“Hello, welcome to Chipotle, what will you be having today?” The burrito constructor didn’t even look up at who she was addressing as she prepared her burrito-constructing station.
“Let’s see, I think I’ll…”
At the sound of the familiar voice the attendant looked up and smiled. “Oh, it’s you! Two steak burritos, extra guac and cheese?”
John Henson looked slightly sheepish that his ordering habits had been remembered and recited back at him. His cheeks reddened, adopting a similar hue to his eyes. “Yeah, I guess.”
The burrito lady’s smile somehow widened further as she began her work. “I’ve seen you come in so many times now, you’re pretty much a regular. We should get to know each other. My name is Sharleen. And you’re John Henson of the Milwaukee Bucks!”
The lanky Buck looked uncertain. Sharleen was not as pretty as he liked. “Do you get to know all your usual customers?”
“Of course! It’s a bit of psychology thing really. I like to see if I can figure out why people order what they do. Someone’s favorite burrito tells a lot about their personality.”
“Seriously? Or are you just talking crap?”
Sharleen laughed. “I’m just joking! What, you think that a veggie burrito is a sign of sexual deviancy or a chicken burrito is a portent of future pathological violence? I want some of the drugs you’re on!”
Henson laughed uneasily in response. “Haha, yeah, I guess that is pretty silly now that I think about it.”
Sharleen suddenly adopted a stern expression as she shoveled rice into the steak-adorned tortillas. “Speaking of silly, why are your box-score stats and even your advanced stats like PER and win-shares so good while the most advanced stats like regularized adjusted plus-minus are so abysmally bad? I mean, I guy putting up 15 and 10 per 36 shouldn’t be the 3rd worst player in the league, only better than Tyshawn Taylor and Byron Mullens. Right? It just always confused me. Is it because you monopolize offensive possessions with your crappy post moves and kill the spacing with your lack of a jumper? Or is it because despite your shot-blocking prowess you don’t have a good concept of team defense and don’t always give full effort?”
She continued ladling rice onto the now thoroughly rice-drowned tortillas, seemingly unaware of anything except what was coming out of her mouth. “I guess your significant marijuana problem could affect your play. What good is a player who comes to practice stoned half the time? Look at you! Can’t even get a bite to eat without smokin’ up first. Better than Sanders smashing Albanians with wine bottles I guess, but the way you smash these burritos is pretty embarrassing. It certainly doesn’t help your already poor conditioning. I’ve never seen such a skinny guy with moobs before! Huffing and puffing on and off the court! And don’t forget to check out Real GM!”
Sharleen seemed to snap out of a trance, and looked at the mountain of rice in front of her. “Whoa, what happened here? I’m sorry, I must have zoned out for a second! Here, let’s start over!”
Henson stopped her. “No, that’s okay, I think actually I’ll just head home and have a salad or something.” He dropped a twenty on the counter and walked out into the cool Milwaukee summer night. He got into his car and started speeding home, eager to find out who this “Real GM” was and why it hated him so much.