A: Chase, what are you doing on Thursday afternoon?
C (who is 13): I don't think I have anything, but I'll check with my mom.
Steph (his mom, in the other corner of the office): He doesn't have anything, why?
A: I need help going through stuff in my garage, mostly finding two documents and organizing the rest. All the crap piled up on the sides is trying to rendezvous in the center, which means I won't be able to park in there once the sides have met and realized how awesome they are and start generating little crap babies. If I'm paying someone else to help me, I might find the motivation to spend an afternoon out there taking care of it all.
C: Oh! Ok.
A: I will pay you (mulling it over - what would make it worth my time? worth his time? I know he has things to save for...) ten dollars an hour, and it won't take more than four hours.
C: Wow! I wouldn't charge you that much.
S: WHAT?! (marching over) You can't pay him more than his dad and I do, or he'll never work for us again!
A: (fumbling) Uh, well... you two drive a hard bargain... I will pay you FIVE dollars an hour and feed you lunch and snacks.
S: That's more like it.
A: And tell Ryan (C's dad and S's husband and my boss) that I have my Pandora station set to "clean," so he can rest easy that all the 80s rock will be cuss-word free.
R (via phone later): And can you guarantee that you will be cuss-word free?
A: What am I, a wizard?
Fine, I'll do my best not to pollute your kid.