Chapter 3

I’d just finished handing over a bacon cheeseburger with a banana milkshake to a jerk who’d been complaining about the length of time it took to make it—a whole five minutes, I ask you—when I came face to face with my presentation guy.

“Remember me?” he asked, his tie askew and strangely dull, tired eyes staring at me in resignation.

“Hi. You don’t look so good.”

“Long story. Can I get a bottle of water, please?”

Definitely not the lunch of champions. “Sure.” I almost asked, “Anything else?” but realized he might be having a bad day financially, too.

“Thanks.”

I told him the amount and he handed over a ten dollar bill. “For the other day and today.”

I wanted to say “no, you probably need this more than I do,” but a man had his pride. “Thanks,” I replied and took care of his order.