…at the one (Irish-y) burger joint in the first floor of a historic hotel, where I now work:
Digging through my work bag, I find a menu that had been given to me so I could look through and memorize it somewhat, as well as some tax withholding paperwork in the center of it that I had filled out and never returned.
So, the next time that I work, I ask about the paperwork and they tell me to duck into the office where liquor is kept and put it on the desk of the one (short) (perky) (daytime) manager, and then I hand over the menu to the one (introverted) (white) (tattooed) manager since the menu by now is slightly different in the salads section and needs a new sheet, and she just sighs and gets this exasperated look on her face and is like, “Ugghhh, I already swapped out eighty of these!”
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