...when my one (young) (tall) (skinny) (Latino-American) coworker came in with a new shorter haircut, where his Farrah Fawcett locks were hacked off for summer:
[I make varying shades of comments that he's a hippie kid who got into trouble with the law, so now he has a short haircut and is on his way to the military.]
. . .
(One joke where I kept saying he should call us all "Sir!" and click his heels in order to practice for bootcamp was particularly successful; I was kind of a space cadet that day and didn't hear the push-bell from the kitchen ring as the signal for us to come back and ferry out some food, and so he and my one [chubby] [Thai] coworker who were busy doing something at the register turned to me and first she was like "Ding ding" and then he was like, "Ding ding," and to him I was like, "She can say 'Ding ding' to me, but you can't speak that way to us, you have to say, "Ding ding, SIR!".)
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