No, I’m really sorry ma’am…
Robert hated disappointing people with a passion. Taking long deep breaths, he waited until the door chime bid farewell to yet another customer, before rushing to the backstore.
Mister Flannaghan was sitting at his desk, as still as a manikin. For a couple of seconds, the young man wondered if his boss might have died right in the middle of his shift. But just before he got to wonder what he would do if the store suddenly closed, Mr Flannaghan coughed loudly.
Hey there Bobby… What’s up?
Robert took a moment before spilling the beans.
We have to talk about the cone, sir.
Mr Flannighan coughed again and struggled to catch his breath, before reminding Robert how good a deal he had gotten when he bought the giant ice cream cone he had put on the side of the road, just in front of the store, a couple of weeks prior.
I agree sir, it was a good deal, but…
Robert liked his job. He hated arguing with the old man.
Mr Flannighan flipped through his hand written files, and pointed out that they never had so much traffic in years. Robert had to agree, the business had been running slow for a long while, before the cone incident.
The old man grumbled, and pretended to go about his business. Robert had to put his foot down.
Mister Flannaghan, I understand that you like the cone… But I am tired of telling families that we are just a garage, and that we don’t actually sell ice cream.