Sara didn't ask for much. A bit of money, which she would happily work for, to buy a few luxuries. A bit of freedom. Or, a lot of freedom. Evidently, she mused, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she leaned against her register, it was almost impossible to get both at once.
It wasn't that she wasn't happy to have a job. And it wasn't the worst job she'd ever had, either; to her, retail beat fast-food any day. The problem was in the uniform. The khaki pants covered her lower half completely, and were tight not in the fun, revealing way, but in the uncomfortable sort of way. The solid red polo shirt wasn't great either; even though Sara had ordered it a size too small, it was hardly flattering. Sara hated wearing anything, so a uniform like this was just torture for her. She'd have ditched the outfit, or the job, long ago, if her friend Julie, the manager, hadn't asked her to behave herself.
So, Sara sat at the checkout, ready to start a boring day, in her boring uniform, at her boring retail job, praying that something might happen that could give her the excuse she needed to get rid of the offending outfit.
Little did she know, but Sara's prayers were being answered, in the form of Julie rushing over to her. Sara knew this could only mean one thing; more work. Groaning, she shuddered to think what Julie would need her to do.
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