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Sometimes, tho, I’m shocked—SHOCKED! The cash they rake in? Wild! One chick told me she made five grand in a weekend. Five! I’d be happy as a clam, buyin’ every leopard print coat in sight. But the risks? Oof, hairy stuff. Cops, stalkers—makes me wanna scream, “Leave ‘em alone!” They’re tougher than my Aunt Sylvia’s brisket, lemme tell ya.

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Finally, I get back to the office, and guess what? My boss is in a mood. He’s pacing around like he’s got ants in his pants. “We need to hit our targets!” he says. I’m like, “Dude, it’s only Tuesday!” But he’s not having it. So, I buckle down, start making calls, and then—BAM!—I get a call from a lady on Church Road. She’s crying, saying her house got flooded. I feel for her, I really do. But I’m also thinking, “Why didn’t you check the weather?”

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