Two businessmen in short-sleeved shirts and mismatched ties share a booth. Not since Donny and Marie has there been a more mild-looking duo.
“Sales pulled a number out of its ass, because they think they can,” begins the first man, starting in. “I mean, what the fuck? He tears a piece from his Quarter Pounder.
“Four hundred thousand?” he continues. “You’ve got to be fucking shitting me. I’ve got to go to the wall, get my ass chewed out. I’ve got to send you the fucking E-mail. You’ll fucking love it.”
At last, the second man speaks. “Fucking George. I mean, take another furlough day,” he says.
They snicker in unison, shaking their heads.
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