Three hot dogs for each of us, and any number of glasses of soda later, and I was full to bursting.
“Jesus,” Jenson moaned, leaning back in his chair and patting his stomach. “I don’t know if I can move.”
“Any reason you need to right now?” I asked, similarly incapacitated.
“None.”
We remained where we were, pleasantly lulled into a food coma while watching the people around us. I watched Andy Quinley, the senior sales manager, as he strutted around the restaurant, boasting about being the first to the top of the mountain, along with his partner, Josh Ridland. I had my suspicions about those two. I noted that most people rolled their eyes, but some—the groupies—hung on his every word. Whatever.
“Why do people still act like that?” I mused aloud.
“Act like what?” Jenson asked before d
