DANTE:
People did this for me. I paid them well to handle things like this so I could focus on building companies and closing deals and doing things that actually mattered.
But here I was.
I jabbed the shovel into the snow. It barely made a dent. The blade hit something hard beneath the surface and the impact jarred through my arms.
"What on earth are you doing?"
I turned.
Cinnamon stood on the porch, arms crossed, looking at me like I was trying to build a spaceship out of snow.
She marched over, boots crunching through the powder, and yanked the shovel out of my hands. "Here. Watch."
She angled the blade low, pushed it forward through the snow, lifted with her legs, and tossed the load to the side. "Like that. Angle matters. You're trying to scrape when you should be scooping."
