Heard That One Before

“Yeah, I’m picking up an order for Katie?” I tell the man behind the counter as I show him the email.

“Last aisle, all the way in the back,” he replies.

So I walk back there, not seeing anybody, no office, nothing until I’m almost at the end of the aisle, when I see the guy sitting in a very tiny chair at a tiny desk, perched under some stairs that are nearly low enough to smack him in the head if he turns too quickly.

“Boy, they really got you tucked in there,” I exclaim, and he smiles thinly at my lame banter.