Ricki’s name tag

Ricki's Chili's name tagAnother lousy tip, another fight with a cook, another aching heel blister—whatever was the last straw, Ricki had enough. She tore off her waist apron, threw it to the ground and shouted an expletive-laden resignation to her unsurprised coworkers.

Enraged yet invigorated, she bee-lined for the front doors, threw them open and stepped onto the parking lot asphalt as a free woman. In one fluid motion, she pulled off her name tag, threw it to the ground and jumped into a black ’89 Iroc-Z. The engine roared, the tires squealed and the last we ever saw of Ricki was her finger salute from the passenger window.

Don’t go, Ricki. Not like this.

One thought on “Ricki’s name tag

  1. hahaha that was an awesome read. glad to see a new post after all this time (in case you’re wondering, I’ve been following this site for a while but this is my first comment)

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