"Dishin' out your digits again, eh, Morgan?"
"Shut up, Skylar."
"Twice tonight!"
"This was work. I'm bartending at the Solstice Parade tomorrow."
"Uh huh, whatever you say! Far be it for me to judge your digit distribution."
"Ooookay, Mr. Bon Mot."
"So I won't call you for Malibu, then?"
"Nah, I need the money for Palm Springs. Next time."
"Fuck. Here comes the brodeo."
___
Activate bartender smile. Go through the motions. Sweetness and light + gentle teasing and playful eyerolling = $150 bucks = a month of food or one amazing dinner, a month of yoga or peace of mind in the savings account, a pile of records or an afternoon at a wine festival.
Life: it could be worse, but only if I stop working.