“My quarterly bonus is missing,” the saleswoman barked.
My first week as payroll coordinator and I’d already stepped in it.
“Where’s my money?” she demanded, hand on hip.
I shuffled a stack of already impossibly tidy papers. Anything to avoid eye contact.
“Put it in the man’s account, didn’t you?” she asked, her auburn curls taunting me.
Then it hit me. I had. Two Blake Browns on payroll. Both in sales. One man, one woman. And I chose… poorly.
“I’ll let you make it up to me,” she said, spinning on her overpriced red soles.
“A three-martini lunch. You’re buying.”
The Weekday One Hundred 