So Coda 2 and me is workin’ the late shift. Good money, y’know, if ya can handle the smell and all. An’ suddenly Coda turns to me, and I’ll never forget the look on her face, and she says, “Rob,” she says, “I ain’t shovellin’ no pig guts into no Zamboni to more.” And I’m floored! When you got a BA in Political Science, you count yerself frikkin’ lucky to get a grade-A job like shovellin’ pig guts into a frikkin’ Zamboni. But Coda says, “I need to have a job with some meanin’.” I asks her, what the hell do ya need meanin’ for? Meanin’ ain’t gonna pay no bills. She don’t listen. She asks me, “You ever wonder why they’re payin’ us to shovel pig guts into a Zamboni? Like, what in hell their business model is?” Like I give two craps what their business model is. Me, I’ve always figured this place is probably wired to the gills with webcams for guys who get their jollies watchin’ people shovel pig guts into Zambonis. But that’s a theory. Anyways, she ups and quits, and goddamn if the frikkin’ Zamboni doesn’t jam up two minutes later. Just my goddamn luck.