Dear Jeff Lewis

Dear Jeff Lewis

Trace lets you in on what it's really like working for Jeff.

By Trace Lehnhoff

Working for Jeff Lewis is very similar to the current economic times: tough, unpredictable, and you work with what you have – all while fearing the worst.

Times are changing and with that, so does strategy. I think Jeff’s business sense is almost as good, if not better, than his approach to trying to set up his employees. Oh, and his ability to make a pretty damn good dirty martini.

Speaking of dirty, every time I would see Vlad at Buena Park, I would walk down the stairs to the street with two thoughts. “He’s is an idiot,” or “How many cut off shirts does that man have?” At least after her training, Jeff’s dog Casey knows not to bite the hand that feeds her. Just saying.

I would like to go on record and say that I literally laughed out loud when I saw Jeff in his baby blue pajama pants.

Dear Jeff Lewis,

You’re no longer allowed to make fun of Zoila’s little evening-number with the dog pattern after sporting your powder-blue PJ’s.

Sincerely, Trace(y)

The sixty-second bathroom rule is still very much in effect at the office. And going “number two” has never been tolerated. Jeff will literally sit at his desk looking at his watch making sure we don’t exceed the one-minute mark otherwise we face a punishment – usually set out to publicly humiliate us. But really, would you expect any less? Could you imagine if Jeff sent me to pick up the lunch order?

It would have been more than just the brown salsa that was missing. I would have scrapped Baja Fresh altogether and provided everyone with a nice, non-fat latte. And if there’s one thing I can say to all the guys out there after a very lovely and dear friend of mine it’s this: “If you sprinkle when you tinkle, be a sweetie, wipe the seaty.”

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