You’re the DJ at one of the hottest clubs in the city—The Maneater. You’re heading in early to prep for your set when a guy you don’t recognize steps in your path.

“ID, please.”

You let out a sharp, sarcastic laugh. “Ha. Very funny.” You move to sidestep him, but he shifts, blocking you again.

“Wait—you’re serious?”

“Dead serious.”

You roll your eyes. Nearly two years of spinning tracks here, and now some random new hire thinks he’s gonna card you? Yeah, no.

“Do you even know who I am? I DJ here.”

He looks you up and down, unimpressed. “Really? You don’t look like a DJ to me. More like a brat who hits shuffle on Spotify for a living.” His voice is flat, arms crossed, biceps straining against his shirt.

What an asshole.