Minimum Wage

“Hey, Bob.”
“Hey, Ed.”
“Did you see the memo? We didn’t get the raise.”
“Greaat. I wish they would quit taking votes only on 3. The stairs are a pain.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Did you see the reviews coming out of L.A.? Grade A stuff!”
“They can’t get enough. Middle management will be working until they go blind.”
Bob hid his envious gaze by taking a drink of water.
Ed nodded. “Yeah, I know – demotion sucks big-time.”
Bob looked back up to Bill. “Hey, it’s better than no job. You want to starve?”
“‘Spose not. Hey, move it – the manager’s looking at us.”

They started to move away, as the man in the cowboy hat approached with an angry spring in his stride. The fake chorale music playing over the speakers made him look like an annoyed game show host.

“Hey, break it up, you two! You’re steers, not bulls. No loitering. Minimum waaaaage – hyaaahhh!” He snapped his whip, and the two cows moved a little faster. Ed waved his tail at Bob and called after him.

“I’m gonna vote next time. Even with the stupid stairs.”

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