Cool those grease jets, little man; we’re running a fast food establishment, not a nickel-and-dime, all-you-can-eat, 4’-o-clock-special fish house. If greases are oozing and cruising all over my shined floor, if greases are sliding and gliding into my new Chevy Toyonda Rochanda, if greases are flooding my gooses and tightening my nooses, there are going to be problems, little man; there are going to be soft problems, and there are going to be hard problems, and you’re going to have to sort them out yourself. WE ARE LIVING IN THE UNITED STATES OF PRIDE, LITTLE MAN!