Page 30 of Dirty Judge

I stared at her.

“What the hell are you looking at, lady?” She leaned closer to the window. “My special smiley cake isn’t in here. It’s in there!”

“Thank you for choosing Happy Burger.” I kept my voice firm. “There are other hungry customers in line behind you, so can you pull forward so I can assist them?”

“No.” She scoffed. “Not until I get my smiley cake. Hurry up and get it so you can worry about everyone else.”

“You’ll have to come inside and talk to the manager about getting that.” I was seconds away from losing my shit. “I can’t give you an eight-dollar cake for free.”

“We’ll see about that!” She rummaged through her purse. “Stay right there until I get out my phone.”

“For what?”

“I’m going to record your rudeness for everyone on social media to see, and then you’ll lose your little job and think twice about talking back or?—”

“Fuck you, lady.” I hissed, and she sucked in a breath.

“It’s not my fault you feel entitled to throw a bitch fit about a cake you don’t deserve.” I snatched off my Happy Hat. “And you couldn’t have been that good of a customer—ever—because that loyalty program ended five freakin’ years ago.”

She blinked.

“And you don’t have to worry about shaming me over my ‘little job,’” I said. “Dealing with assholes like you have made it perfectly clear that I need to quit.”

“No, no, no, Miss Spencer!” The manager gasped from behind me. “That is not how we talk to our beloved customers.”

“I know.” I tore off my nametag. “It’s how I talk to entitled cunts, though.”

She gasped. “Apologize to her and me. Right now.”

“I’m sorry I ever started working here,” I said. “I’ll call about my check, and I wish you all the best.”

I stormed out of the restaurant without looking back, without thinking about just how much bill money I was leaving on the table.

When I made it back to my apartment, I stripped out of my uniform and headed to the shower.

The quicker I washed this day away, the quicker I could start looking for another job.

Before I could turn on the water, my phone sounded with an unknown number.

“I’m not coming back and I’m not apologizing,” I answered. “I refuse to be treated like shit by rude customers.”

“Well, I know exactly how that feels, Miss Spencer…” an unfamiliar voice responded. “The customers aren’t always right.”

Oh my god. Who is this?

“Did I catch you at a bad time?” she asked.

“Um, I’m not sure.” I cleared my throat. “Who is this?”

“I’m Mara Banks from New York City’s Court System,” she said. “I’m calling to see if you’re still interested in the civil service job you applied for a few weeks ago?”

“Absolutely,” I said. “I’ve done four phone interviews, so is this another one?”

“No, this is the offer one.” There was a smile in her voice. “But I’m afraid it comes with a few non-negotiable conditions, and I’ll need an answer right now.”

“What are the conditions?”

“You have to agree to start on Monday.”