Why Do We Work Here?

In ancient Greece it was customary to greet house guests by rubbing fish sauce (or salad dressing in a pinch) onto the heel of the honored guest’s left foot. So when there was a knock on the door to her villa, Aphrophoraites immediately got out her cell phone and texted her bff Shaniqua. “Did you HEAR what that jerk did to that nubile young virgin??” She texted, only with more misspellings.

Shaniqua responded, “GURL, you KNOW I can’t be bothered to get no educatin’!”

Amphoraboraite heaved a heavy sigh. Shaniqua was of course correct, there were no schools for women, regardless. Aphromitedeltaphi threw down her amphora in disgust. An idea dawned on her suddenly. “We shall disguise you as a beefeater,” she proposed.

Shaniqua found herself in uniform with a tall furry hat. “Gurl this ain’t cute,” she said, but was immediately hushed. “Why we doing this again?” She groaned.

Aphrobludbfurbabc slipped suddenly on the puddle of olive oil which had spilled from her fallen amphora. She joined the groaning and rubbed her eyes, which were itching horribly from the beefeater disguise. “CAN I TAKE OFF THIS DUMBASS HAT YET?!”

This caused the nearby tourists to stare at her oddly. Clearly Shaniqua was not good at subterfuge.

Shaniqua tried to look as manly as possible as Aphratruimporadora hid herself behind a cypress tree. “YO!” Belted Shaniqua in a throaty man-voice. “I be here to get my schoolin’ on! So lemme in this fine establishment!” Shaniqua’s British accent was, to everyone’s surprise, astoundingly good. Even the corgis were fooled… but could she fool THE QUEEN?? They would find out… after the fox hunt.

Shaniqua wanted to go to the post-hunt party, but Aphiridites didn’t want to push their luck. After a long argument they decided to compromise and go to the Disco at Delphi.

The end.

(We wrote this by folding up the paper to hide everything but the last couple words and taking turns.)

Once upon a time, there lived a sloth named Dinkles who was quit entrepreneurial for a sloth. That is to say, he had the idea that he wanted to start a business, though he had no idea what he wanted to sell. He decided to ask a friend what she thought he should sell his body to the night. He didn’t have to put on the red light— BUT HE DID ANYWAY. He needed money for his antique porcelain cat figurine addiction. When he got to the street corner someone was already there!

Dinkles was overjoyed. It was his very first customer. He approached them… slowly. “Would you like… to buy… a hammock?” He drawled, with a sloth-like smile. “We have big… ones, small… ones… hammocks… made out of… flannel…”

Nasty Nettie, the eighty-four year old hooker wrinkled her already wrinkled nose and interjected. “Oh honey!” She tutted, “you won’t get no johns in THAT outfit.”

“But Nettie! I don’t know about these things! What should I buy for him as a present?” She asked Dinkles.

“Well, ma’am… I’m not sure if I have… a hammock suitable for an elephant.”

His customer looked crestfallen. Dinkles, who hated seeing ladies upset, added, “well, maybe… I can custom order… one.”

Nasty Nettie heaved a sigh. “We’ll need nothing more then a banana hammock.” She paused, “maybe someday the hammock business will thrive.”

But Dinkles was not one to give up on his dreams. He would continue trying… yes, certainly… after he took a good, long nap.

Two days later, he woke up in a bathtub full of ice. “Oh god!” He moaned in fright, “my kidney!”

He patted himself down, and was relieved to fund both his kidneys intact. However, to his horror he realized he was missing his customer catalog. He couldn’t very well run his business without that, which contained lovely full-color pictures of all of the hammocks he offered. He hoped it hadn’t been stolen. Perhaps he should call the police.

He quickly decided against it, however, seeing as how hooking wasn’t exactly legal.

THE END.

The problem is she doesn’t always keep track of how much she takes. Or she’ll get the math wrong and insist that she paid the till back and she has no idea why my closing count is off.

She also doesn’t seem to understand that when she takes cash she can’t just write the store a check.

Let me explain why this is the most annoying thing in the world to us.

Our starting till amount is $200. So we need to close with $200 in the till. Let’s say we make $80 in cash sales, we would deposit $80 that night. Now let’s assume that our manager takes $100 cash and writes a check for that $100. At closing we now only have $180 in the till. Our paperwork says that we should be depositing $80. If we do that we start the next day at only half our starting till amount, so we can’t deposit that money.

We now can’t fill out our closing paperwork unless we pretend the check is cash and deposit that $80 anyway and hope and pray that we make at least $100 in cash the next day in order to close our till.