I just finished feeding each of my eight employees (or my “minions” as I like to call them) a generic looking sandwich so they can get back to work slinging out plates of spaghetti carbonara and pumpkin soup to the customers streaming into my restaurant. I was loathe to fork over $200 dollars for each measly sandwich but that’s the price I have to pay to keep my restaurant humming. As I take a break from running the joint to read up on the latest MLB playoff news, I get an SMS from Les.
New Baby here!! Yay!! Trade water with me.