“Mike, can you come in here for a second?”

I walked into Mary’s office. The fluorescent light was crackling just enough for it to be annoying. I sat down.

“Mike, I think you’re doing a great job here. I just want you to know that first.”

“First?” My washcloths were balled up beneath my ass. I tried my best to inconspicuously re-adjust while pretending to tighten my apron.

She leaned forward. “Yeah, well, the thing is…”

“Excuse me, Mary?” Fernando appeared at the entrance to her office. The room was small and the door was now pushing against my shoulder.

“Yes, Fernando?”

“There’s a problem with the grill. It no working right. Umberto is going like, he going crazy.”

Mary’s eyelids were now at half-mast. She pursed her lips.

“Fernando.”

“Yes, Mary?”

“Handle it.”

Fernando’s eyes grew quite round, like our world-famous bacon-loaded! potato skins.

“Yes, yes, yes Mary. Yes.” He backpedaled out and shut the door behind him.

She waited for the door to *click*. She turned to me.

“You need to smile more.”

I let it soak in.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Mike, you’re a great employee. We love the work you do here. You’re up-selling our sizzling shrimp fajitas! like nobody’s business and your pre-bussing is second to none. But some customers have complained that you’re simply not smiling enough.”

“Well, thank you Mary. I appreciate the compliments. But I think I’m going to have to disagree with you on that last point.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m a happy, fun-lovin’ kinda guy! I smile all the time. I think these customers are giving you some bad intel.”

Mary didn’t speak. She just stared. A slight, knowing smirk began to creep across her face. She yelled,

“FERNANDO!”

Fernando rushed back in, slamming the door against my shoulder.

“Yes, Mary? What did I do?”

“Fernando, you didn’t do anything. I need your opinion.”

Fernando nervously fidgeted with his apron. “Sure, Mary. Anything you want. What you want my opinion for?”

“In your opinion, Fernando, does Mike smile often?”

Except for the buzzing fluorescent light, the office was dead silent. Fernando didn’t speak. He looked at Mary, and then he looked down at me looking up at him. He looked over at Mary again. And then back at me. Then Mary. Then me. I could see beads of sweat begin to form on his forehead like percolation on a coffee pot.

“Uh, yes Mary,” he said, as if he were forcefully vomiting up the words. I grinned triumphantly.

“Yes… what?” She leaned in.

Fernando was wringing his apron as if he could choke it to death.

“Yes, you are right, I mean. Mike, he no smile much. He no smile much at all.”

“That is horseshit Fernando!” I jumped to my feet. “We joke around all the time back here. You call Umberto in here and see if he corroborates this filthy lie!” I turned toward the grill. “UMBERTO!”

Umberto looked up at me quizzically as he wiped some beads of sweat from his mustache.

“Leave Umberto out of this,” Mary said, her voice cold. “You may go now, Fernando.”

He avoided my death glare as he awkwardly turned around inside Mary’s tiny office and made his way back into the kitchen.

“You haven’t heard the last of this, traitor!” I yelled.

“Sit back down.”

“Thank you, Mary, but I shall stand.”

Without saying a word, she watched me for what seemed like a solid minute. And then,

“Mike, do you enjoy working here at TGI Fridays?”

“Of course I do, Mary. I mean come on - the people here are great, the 50% employee food discount! is gangbusters and I absolutely love tying balloons in kids’ hair, no matter the occasion or level of appropriateness. It’s festive. It’s a great little perk. I love it.”

“Well then would you mind just flashing a grin every so often? I wouldn’t say anything if multiple customers hadn’t brought it to my attention. Frankly, it ruined their respective experiences. I’m not even sure they’re coming back. This restaurant thrives on word of mouth.”

“Well aware. And my sincerest apologies.” I took a deep breath. “I was not aware we were running low in the Smile Department, but I’m going to restock ASAP. I guess it’s just…” I paused to think. “It’s just I’m thinking about the shrimp fajitas, ya’ know? Just imagining those little shrimpies sizzling and skirtin’ around on that grill. Almost… almost dancing The Macarena! on that thin sheath of grease. And Umberto is sweatily sautéing those delicious bell peppers… and, well… Jesus, Mary. I just get lost in my little fantasy and I forget to crease the corners of my mouth in an upward fashion. But from this day forward, consider the problem solutioned.”

Mary raised an eyebrow. “Not appreciating the sarcasm, Michael.”

“Sarcasm? Shmarcasm. Why do you think I’m upselling those shrimp fajitas like the world’s about to end? I’m in love with ‘em. If it were legal, I would marry those tasty little bastards. I’d make sweet love to ‘em, Mary. Hand to God. But I can’t. So I settle for eating them. AND selling them like shrimpy little hotcakes. But you know what? My bad.”

“Your bad?”

“Yeah, my bad for not truly expressing my enthusiasm for those spicy bitches! And for this place - TGI Fridays. You know what it should be called? TGI Fajitas. Because seriously, Mary - TGI FAJITAS, am I right?” I adjusted my apron. “So are you ready?”

“Ready for what?”

“Ready to sell some fucking fajitas? I mean, WOO!” I pumped my fists in the air. “This pep talk has me all fired up to up-sell some fire-roasted fah-jeye-tas!” I slapped her on the shoulder and gave her a little pinch on the cheek. “Good talk though, Mary. Good talk. Thanks for the reality check, keepin’ me grounded. I love you like a boss. Keep it up.”

I turned around and walked out.