Greg Snavely

So, you know, I thought maybe having teeth would buy me some favor.

But... So she... Okay.

So she... All right, serious.

So... So... Hey, sweetie.

So... So...

Checks and balances.

I write the carbon copy ticket, they take it to her, they pay, and then they get a receipt stapled to it from her, who is not an addict as far as I know, has never been in the program, is somebody who's getting X amount of dollars an hour to just ring people up for what we say, for whatever I priced them for.

So they pull around the back, and then the loaders...

Look at the ticket.

The loaders are the guys who are a little less presentable, a little bigger.

They can strap a couch to the top of a Suburban, and they get their $2 or $3 tips.

And, yeah, so in my mind, I say, how can I—I say, how can I—

I need to find... What happens to those tickets after I write them?

So the loaders would just take them all and shove them in a box.

And you got three smoke breaks a day, which was a big deal.

If you cause somebody to miss their smoke break, they're fighting.

Keep in mind, I'm trying to survive.

Let's just put that out there.

So...

When Smoke Break got called, I went to see where all the tickets were, and I had been writing pretty generic tickets of, you know, four-piece dresser set, nightstands, mattress, whatever.