I’ve had four complaints in the last two hours,” I said as I walked into his office, interrupting the powwow he and Easton were having. “I’ve had to cover half her section because she’s so damn slow, and she continues to get people’s orders wrong.” They both just stared at me as I continued to vent my aggravation with Georgia, the waitress from hell. “I told her to spit out her gum at least four times, because I’ve caught her blowing bubbles while taking orders. She dumped a soda in some poor guy’s lap and then proceeded to pat him dry while his fiancée looked like she was about to murder her. She gave her number to another guy because she said, and I quote, ‘He has hands that I’m sure would feel great gripping my ass.’” Easton choked on his water, and Jett’s eyes almost bugged out of his head. “Yeah, I know,” I said in a horrified tone. “So can we fire her now?” Easton broke out in laughter, and Jett shot him a glare.
