Part 1 Part 1.5 Pinky’s Burger House had this quaint-coffeeshop-ensconced-in-the-mountains ambiance. While I flipped burgers and served fries, I wondered if I’d made the right choice trusting Mr Pink (the owner). What was I going to get, working 9-4, wearing a greasy apron, a fading pink jacket with a picture of a walrus on the… Continue reading