"Name?"

All right, all right. It's my turn to be the star of the story about my job. And, unfortunately, it's not a very happy story. (At least, not for me. You'll probably find it quite entertaining.)

I was working café a few weeks ago, and I'd just messed up someone's order. It was about an hour to closing time, I was nearly dead on my feet, and I was already stressed out about the food. 

Someone calls over the radio.

"Hey, café?"

I look around. I'm the only one not currently busy (Russia's at the register, and Ross is making a pizza; I'm just watching some fries), so I answer. "Yes?"

"Put a pizza in the oven for me, please?"

"Name?" I call back. I had no idea who was talking. I'm not very good at recognizing voices over the radio, plus it was freaking loud in the café, between the children screaming in the Clubhouse and the people chattering at their tables and the ovens humming. I couldn't have recognized the voice if you paid me.

"What?"

"Name?"

"What?"

"Who is this?" I asked. I was getting a bit irritated. I was tired, and they weren't making any sense.

"Push the button, wait a moment, then talk."

"I was pushing the button," I nearly snapped.

Ross turns and looks at me. "That's Alex Jones."

I nearly drop the radio. "I'm s-sorry, Sir. I'll get that right away." Then I hang the radio up and run into the back before I lose it.

Slim chases me down, and says, "Look, Jones won't care. He'll be like, All right. He was being sarcastic, Lauren. No need to flip out now. Calm down."

I had to take a few minutes to compose myself, and that included standing in the freezer for a bit. (The freezer was nice.) I did have to suck it up and apologize to him when he came to collect his pizza, saying sorry for being an idiot over the radio. He wasn't upset, and I felt a bit foolish.

I won't be answering the radio in café any more, you can be sure of that.