Manny was in fine form all evening, yelling at everybody and calling us names. Business as usual. Around ten o’clock, I returned to the shop from a hellish delivery. What was it about college kids who thought they were God’s gift to humanity? Oh, and mommy and daddy could pay their way and they got to live off campus in swank digs. Did that mean the rest of us plebes got to be treated like s**t? And then there’s the dollar tip the snot-nosed little zit-covered freshman threw at me, before he slammed the door in my face. I was at the end of my rope. I didn’t hate rich people, necessarily. Just the ones who thought they were entitled. That s**t just chapped my ass.
“Danny boy!” Manny liked to think he was a comedian. I gritted my teeth and waited on his majesty’s edict. “You got a delivery
