Born and raised in East Hampton, New York, Chris Gold was one of several thousand Wall Street employees sent packing in the market crash of late 2008. By the following spring, his house would go into foreclosure and his wife would leave him for a dentist named Ezra. With nothing left to lose but his car, Chris leaves the city and the repo man behind in search of ‘something actual.’ His journey comes to an abrupt end when he runs out of both gas and money in tiny Rosalia, Washington. Here, he promptly scribbles his resume on a bar napkin and gets a job slinging suds to the unsuspecting locals. Taking shelter in the bunkhouse of a good Christian farm family, he learns the joys of potluck dinners, peeing in the breeze, minimum wage and nothing to spend it on.