He’ll figure it out
The chef/manager of the fish shop was extremely lazy and left me to pack up a number of times. It was a fancy store with a large window display, which was meant for two people. One day, I burned my forearm while cooking items that we sold. The batter fell into the deep-fryer much harder than I had expected. I was in the most painful situation of my life, but it was only going to get worse.
My manager came by with a salad that he had made for lunch rush. He told me to hurry because he would be leaving early. Again. He knew that I had just burned my arm, and was not in a position to close the door. I grabbed them, slapped the keys down and told him to close it up himself.
He asked me, as if he hadn’t closed the machine on my own countless times before.
