Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 22762 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 114(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22762 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 114(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
“So what was that about?” George gets straight to the point, not asking me about the books.
“He needs help with the Christmas tour thing the town does.”
“Really?” George’s bushy eyebrows pull together.
I wouldn’t have guessed that Booker would take part in it, but Mary Beth can be pushy. She’s actually pretty scary, but she’s clever about it. Her insults and digs come in the form of a backhanded compliment. At least when George is a dick, he does it right out in the open.
“Yeah.” I shrug, trying not to make a big deal out of it. Probably more for my benefit than for George. I won’t let myself make this into something it’s not. My father used to tell me I did that all the time.
This is a job and nothing more. Booker is being nice, that’s all. That’s what he needs me for. But I can’t help but wonder why he asked to take me riding. I guess to show me around.
“He’s thinking of a Christmas tea party,” I say and try to get back to where my mind should be.
“So you’ll need food.” George collapses into the same chair I occupied yesterday. It’s almost comical how things have changed since then.
“Oh, I’m not sure.” I start piling up the papers that I’ve already gone through. Entering everything into the computer took some time, but now reviewing the books is much easier. I have already seen spots that can be fixed. If I can get George to agree.
“A tea party is more than tea, right? It’s all those tiny sandwiches.” I never thought George and I would be hanging out in his office talking about tea party food, but then again, I also never thought Booker would notice me. Add to that fact he’s asked for my help. He must not keep up on town gossip, but I can’t figure out why he bothered to single me out.
"Maybe, but that will be all up to Booker.” I need to find out what all he wants done.
“But you can pitch the idea, right?”
“I suppose. Joy could make some treats too.” It does sound really cute. We could have tea and hot chocolate for the kids.
“Now you’re thinking.” George claps his hands together, smiling for the first time, I think, ever. At least it's the first instance I've ever witnessed. Was all his barking and assholery behavior related to stress? Not that it should give him a pass. I'm stressing out but not being a total jerk face.
“Do you want to check out what I’ve been working on?” I shift the laptop over so that he can see the screen better. I brought my laptop from home because I had a feeling his computer would slow me down. Everything is online anyway.
“Can you print it out?” George leans forward, squinting, so I grab his glasses out of the desk drawer for him.
“No, we’re not going to print it out. It would actually be harder to see it that way. Come over here.” I motion with my hand for him to move the chair closer, and he reluctantly does it. “Now I want you to be open to a few things. A few possible changes.”
“Changes?” he huffs.
“Well, do you want things to remain how they are right now?”
“Well, no. We’re sinking.”
“So that means something has to give or change.” He folds his arms over his chest. I think this is his way of pouting. “Hear me out, okay?”
“All right,” he grunts, and I do a small victory dance in my head.
I know the diner isn’t mine, and George is a jerk face, but I don’t want to see it go under. No matter how much this town dislikes me. I think there’s something inside me that wants to prove to everyone they’re wrong about me. This might be one of those times my father was right. That I really am making up wild ideas in my mind.
Over the next hour, I go over a lot of the basics with how the programs work to help him see how to plug in numbers that can predict some losses and profits. There are menu items that could change that are costing more to make than they are being sold for. They need to be kicked from the menu or the price adjusted to reflect a profit.
"Well, that's all I have so far," I finally say, and George is quiet for a long moment. Did I push him too far? It might have been too much at once.
“Thank you, Sabrina,” he says, and I smile.
“It’s only a start, but—”
“You’ve been back here one day, and I can already see a lot of the problems.”
“I’m really glad I could help.” I still need to check in with some distributors to make sure pricing is competitive. I believe George has been choosing options based on convenience or ease of use. He'll even grab stuff from the local grocery store, and those small items add up quickly.