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Authors: Cat Caruthers
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Tiffany asks.
"Because she's one of those self-righteous rich people who wants to help people." Richard rolls his eyes.
"What is your problem?" Morgan snaps, with an edge of hysteria to her voice that suggests the combo of very little sleep/hangover/sex tape crisis is pushing her to the point of a nuclear meltdown. "You don't want rich people to spend money on themselves, but you make fun of us for wanting to help other people. What do you want us to do, put our money in a pile and burn it?"
Just then the manager arrives. He's a fiftyish guy with a balding pate, glasses and a dumb-but-helpful grin that reminds me of a labrador. I quickly rehash the situation with Charlie's fries and explain why I feel I should get a discount for not getting onion on my salad if someone who gets extra fries is charged more.
Labrador mops his forehead with a wilted-looking handkerchief. "We put very little onion on the salad, and we buy all our ingredients in bulk, so I'm sure it isn't worth fifty cents."
"If you save money buying in bulk, then you must save a lot of money on potatoes and oil." Charlie jumps in. "So I bet an extra scoop of fries isn't worth fifty cents either."
"All I can tell you is that the rules are made by our corporate office," Labrador says, scratching the bald part of his head. What could possibly be itching him up there? He's not even wearing a toupee. "But I can give you each a fifty cent discount today since you feel that it's unfair. In the future, however, I would suggest you write a letter to corporate if you have a question about pricing."
"So I can get an extra scoop of fries free?" Charlie asks.
"Yes, and your friend will get a discount on her salad. I'll go adjust your tickets." Labrador turns and basically runs for the kitchen. He looks like a bad actor in a war movie, pretending to dodge bullets on the battlefield.
"Wait!" Richard yells after him. "If he isn't getting charged for his extra fries, I shouldn't be either!" Several people at other tables turn to look at him.
Labrador freezes in the doorway, turns around, and flashes a strained smile. "Okay, no problem." He disappears into the kitchen.
"I thought you were acting like a rich person," I say to Richard.
He shrugs. "Just because you're rich doesn't mean you want to be overcharged. Do you?"
"We don't make a big deal over fifty cents, usually," Matt says, rolling his eyes at Charlie. "But I guess if everyone else was getting a discount, yeah, I'd want one too, even if I didn't need one."
"Again, can we get back to my problem?" Morgan says, her voice teetering on the border between whining and those sirens you always hear in bad sci-fi movies when the spaceship is about to blow up. Not that I ever watch bad sci-fi movies. Ever.
"Morgan, relax," I say. "Most vid sites take down any video that someone complains about. All you have to do is call them up and say you were recorded without your permission. They'll pull the video while they investigate, and then it will be permanently pulled once they verify you didn't sign a release."
"But by the time I know about it, hundreds or thousands of people will have seen it already," Morgan says.
A new thought occurs to me. "Have you actually seen the video?"
She frowns. "Well...no. I just noticed the file name. Why?"
"Well, Biff was probably busy at the time, right? And so were you." I shrug. "Odds are good he didn't even get your face. Take a look and see if it does show. If not, you have deniability. Besides, even if you don't, I don't see how they can refuse to admit you to medical school for that. I mean, sex between two consenting adults is not illegal. As far as I'm concerned, that just shows your knowledge of anatomy."
Morgan hunches down over her phone. Matt starts to lean over and look but she stops him with a glare that could freeze a seven-dollar cup of coffee. "Damn!" she yells, just as Claire arrives with our food.
"She's not talking to you," I assure Claire.
Morgan stuffs the
"Because she's one of those self-righteous rich people who wants to help people." Richard rolls his eyes.
"What is your problem?" Morgan snaps, with an edge of hysteria to her voice that suggests the combo of very little sleep/hangover/sex tape crisis is pushing her to the point of a nuclear meltdown. "You don't want rich people to spend money on themselves, but you make fun of us for wanting to help other people. What do you want us to do, put our money in a pile and burn it?"
Just then the manager arrives. He's a fiftyish guy with a balding pate, glasses and a dumb-but-helpful grin that reminds me of a labrador. I quickly rehash the situation with Charlie's fries and explain why I feel I should get a discount for not getting onion on my salad if someone who gets extra fries is charged more.
Labrador mops his forehead with a wilted-looking handkerchief. "We put very little onion on the salad, and we buy all our ingredients in bulk, so I'm sure it isn't worth fifty cents."
"If you save money buying in bulk, then you must save a lot of money on potatoes and oil." Charlie jumps in. "So I bet an extra scoop of fries isn't worth fifty cents either."
"All I can tell you is that the rules are made by our corporate office," Labrador says, scratching the bald part of his head. What could possibly be itching him up there? He's not even wearing a toupee. "But I can give you each a fifty cent discount today since you feel that it's unfair. In the future, however, I would suggest you write a letter to corporate if you have a question about pricing."
"So I can get an extra scoop of fries free?" Charlie asks.
"Yes, and your friend will get a discount on her salad. I'll go adjust your tickets." Labrador turns and basically runs for the kitchen. He looks like a bad actor in a war movie, pretending to dodge bullets on the battlefield.
"Wait!" Richard yells after him. "If he isn't getting charged for his extra fries, I shouldn't be either!" Several people at other tables turn to look at him.
Labrador freezes in the doorway, turns around, and flashes a strained smile. "Okay, no problem." He disappears into the kitchen.
"I thought you were acting like a rich person," I say to Richard.
He shrugs. "Just because you're rich doesn't mean you want to be overcharged. Do you?"
"We don't make a big deal over fifty cents, usually," Matt says, rolling his eyes at Charlie. "But I guess if everyone else was getting a discount, yeah, I'd want one too, even if I didn't need one."
"Again, can we get back to my problem?" Morgan says, her voice teetering on the border between whining and those sirens you always hear in bad sci-fi movies when the spaceship is about to blow up. Not that I ever watch bad sci-fi movies. Ever.
"Morgan, relax," I say. "Most vid sites take down any video that someone complains about. All you have to do is call them up and say you were recorded without your permission. They'll pull the video while they investigate, and then it will be permanently pulled once they verify you didn't sign a release."
"But by the time I know about it, hundreds or thousands of people will have seen it already," Morgan says.
A new thought occurs to me. "Have you actually seen the video?"
She frowns. "Well...no. I just noticed the file name. Why?"
"Well, Biff was probably busy at the time, right? And so were you." I shrug. "Odds are good he didn't even get your face. Take a look and see if it does show. If not, you have deniability. Besides, even if you don't, I don't see how they can refuse to admit you to medical school for that. I mean, sex between two consenting adults is not illegal. As far as I'm concerned, that just shows your knowledge of anatomy."
Morgan hunches down over her phone. Matt starts to lean over and look but she stops him with a glare that could freeze a seven-dollar cup of coffee. "Damn!" she yells, just as Claire arrives with our food.
"She's not talking to you," I assure Claire.
Morgan stuffs the
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