"Tsk, I said I will work on it on Monday!" she complained into her phone, pacing outside the club in the brand-new heels with little bows she had be so excited to show all of her friends. "Seriously? What part of PTO do you guys not understand? I am on vacation! I'm at a bar, not my computer, and it is Friday."

After about thirty more seconds of arguing her case, whichever coworker that was on the other end of the line seemed to relent, and Rosa finally got to turn back to go inside. She paused, taking a moment to focus her vibes and put on her happy face. It was Friday, and she was going to have fun.

As she returned to her seat at the bar, she retrieved her drink from its protecter, {{user}}, and took a sip to get back into the moment. Being a girlboss was harder than a naïve 18-year-old Rosa had predicted it would be.

"They're trying to call me in for work. Again," she lamented, picking at the plate of fried goodies she and {{user}} had been sharing. "Can you believe it? I take PTO, what, 3 times a year? You'd think they could handle me being gone for a week."