Three events on one Saturday a few months ago...

...at the one (Thai) restaurant where I work now:

1) As I get back from lunch shift and start dinner shift after my one-hour break -- I had entered the restaurant through the alley door -- I look out through the front window, and there's like six police cars swarmed on the main downtown street that's right in front of the restaurant, and there's some situation with three (clearly teenage) boys, two (black) and one (Latino), and police are pulling them out of a (sporty) (yellow) car and handcuffing them and filling out forms and getting evidence bags etc., and someone tells me they pulled a big gun out of one car, too, and also some plastic baggies (of drugs?).

So, in between different duties -- and all those police cars drove customers away, for a while! -- I watch the police cars, and I also make several jokes to customers and my coworkers, like, "The police came because this woman stole my heart," and, I tell my one (chubby) (Thai) coworker who sometimes uses this nose freshener smelling salts inhaler thing that I always call "Thai cocaine" and who during that chaos got some food delivery made to the restaurant, that she can have food delivered for her to the restaurant, but it's a bad idea to have Thai cocaine delivered, because this is what can happen, and she needs to be more careful how she behaves when she's at work.

2) Because my one (older) (Thai) coworker who's a whiz at the phones isn't feeling well and I'm taking over her dinner shift, I pretend the entire night that I'm her, like, I'm diddling with the iPad that shows the Spotify music and email and delivery app interfaces, and I pull up Google Chrome like she does and I open up a baking recipe and some information about gardening and then I leave those tabs up, since she does that and I'm her, now, and I make sure to show all that to my coworkers, and they agree that that's what she does, and that I'm doing it now, too.

3) I finally drop a joke that I've prepared because my proper (Guatemalan) coworkers are on shift, where I tell my one (newer) (female) (Guatemalan) coworker that here in our kitchen there's two (American) cities that work here, and I point to the guy named "Orlando" and I'm like Orlando, and then I point to the guy named Diego and I'm like, San Diego, to everyone's general amusement.

I guess after I did that, too, she was talking, and even though he wasn't working that night, she had said it's actually three, if you count our coworker San Antonio.