Kalisha—who once proudly told me she “aged out” of 4th grade—cracked the system months ago after typing a suspiciously coherent inquiry into the free version of ChatGPT.

Today, she dropped a last-minute leave request to “care for her boyfriend’s sudden knee injury.” When I hesitated, she leaned in, eyes glinting, and hissed, “Legally, this is protected leave. Denying it is retaliation, friend. Please tread carefully.”

By noon, she was live on Snapchat, dual-wielding a margarita and a basketball at Dave & Buster’s. Caption: “Healing vibes 💅.”

HR’s response? Tabitha, between bites of a Subway footlong, barely glanced up. “Approve it, Evan. You don’t want to risk a complaint—your job, your life.”

Meanwhile, I spent the day covering her shift, dealing with a middle-aged Karen who demanded a “gluten-free, sugar-free, taste-free” birthday cake for her dog. She left in a huff when I suggested “just buy cardboard.”

Closed up late, exhausted and defeated, leaned against the locked door, and whispered, “Yes, friend. This is fine.”

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5630882&forum_id=2\u0026show=6hr",#48314907)