Jeffrey was at the counter, patiently waiting his turn when the joint erupted into chaos.
It started with a stale chicken nugget off a large man’s forehead. Then things really got ugly. Suddenly there were heated exchanges, food fights and flying fists.
But Jeffrey deftly avoided it all. An order with his name on it was somewhere nearby and the clock was ticking. The longer he took, the smaller the tip.
He found the greasy cheeseburger and fries on the tile floor, half in the bag, half out. Still salvageable though.
What his customers don’t know won’t hurt them… much.
The Weekday One Hundred 