The guy who lives in the dumpster out back came in and said his feet were bothering him. He also said aliens were blocking his prostate nerve signals. I said I couldn't do anything about that, but that you were the go-to bitch for pedicures, so he's waiting for you back in your station. He said he'd have to pay you in aluminum cans, I said you'd been paid with worse. Also, you're going to have to refill that blue stuff you sterilize the combs with, he drank it all.
I'm taking the rest of the afternoon off, I've had to breath through my mouth the whole time he's been here.