“I’m telling you, they exist,” insisted Neil Conroy.
Kent Stricker laughed. “And if I say anything bad about the Company they’ll burst through the door and take me away?”
“Or if you screw up badly enough,” chimed in Ashlee Caulfield from across the counter. “I heard it happened at the 80th Avenue store. They never saw that guy again.”
“Come on. How would anybody even know? The manager’s not even here,” said Kent.
Neil put his finger to his lips and pointed at the small black dome of the security camera in the corner. “The Boss is always listening,” he whispered.
Kent scoffed. “Now I’ve heard everything. A coffee company with its own black-ops hit squad. You guys have been working here too long.”
Ashlee shrugged. “80th Avenue. What was that kid’s name again? Brandon? Barney?”
“Barry,” answered Neil cryptically.
“Whatever,” said Kent. “I’m gonna make the next drink wrong on purpose.”
“Not a good plan,” warned Ashlee.
“Not a good plan, at all,” agreed Neil.
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