…at the one (Irish-y) burger joint in the first floor of a historic hotel, that I now work at:
When a (well-dressed) (vaguely foreign) (round-faced) (older) (white) lady who's (mildly chunky) and who had been getting wine and cocktails with two (educated) (white American) types goes to pay, she hands me the bill and cash, and is like, “That should take care of it,” to which I’m like, “The only problem is if there’s too little.”
And, at that, “Ha!”, she’s like, “Yes!”.
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