Toasty

I'm warm blooded, like most mammals. The problem is, I'm REALLY WARM BLOODED. If it's a winter day, snowing outside, with people bundled up to the point where they look like the Michelin man, I'll be outside in a wifebeater shirt shoveling the driveway while complaining about sweating too profusely. So with that in mind I'll explain what it was like in the restaurant I worked for. The fans on the ceiling would be on, yet they didn't push any air around. It's not like there was very much cool air to circulate anyway. Speaking of which, we weren't allowed to have the door opened in the shop to cool it off and then the air conditioning really didn't do its job at cooling the place down, especially not in the back where we worked.

The scary part is that the other store I would work at sometimes didn't have any air at all, period. I was told that during summer time the owner wouldn't let them open the door and they didn't have any fans to use. Who in their right mind would even want to step foot in that place during summer? That would be like entering a sauna to have lunch.

With Frank I could never understand his wardrobe when he would come into work. It made sense since this was in early February and there was snow out on the ground, but he would keep his hoodie on even when the shop was becoming insanely warm. There were a few times where he got to the point where he had to take his hoodie off, but by that time I was like a melted ice cream cone on piping hot asphalt.