Ah, Gabe. A man of formidable physical prowess, a true titan of the tarmac, a marathon runner whose strides could put gazelles to shame. In the hallowed halls of Buff Loft, he’s known for his steely determination, his calm demeanor and his uncanny ability to make a 10K look like a leisurely stroll to the fridge.
But beneath that veneer of athletic invincibility lies a secret, a whispered tale from his collegiate past, a saga so steeped in canine chaos and... well, deposits, that it continues to elicit cackles and knowing glances whenever the subject of "side hustles" rears its head -- or when one of us is tasked with walking the boss' dogs in West Hollywood!
Picture it: A young Gabe, brimming with youthful optimism and the perennial student's need for extra cash. He wasn't one for flipping burgers or stocking shelves. Oh no, Gabe sought something that aligned with his very being, something that would leverage his natural gifts. And then, like a divine revelation (or perhaps a particularly persistent flea), it hit him: a dog-walking service!
It seemed, at the time, like the ultimate win-win. He could get paid for two of his greatest loves: running and, naturally, dogs.
"Easy money," he reportedly mused to anyone who would listen, picturing blissful jogs through sun-drenched parks, surrounded by a coterie of well-behaved canines, tails wagging in rhythmic approval -- especially in Beverly Hills where even dogs have a certain upper class to their behavior.
Little did he know, he was about to embark on a journey that would redefine the very meaning of "shitty job."