2 Broke Girls x 1 Rich Man [TV series 2 Broke Girls ff]

Words: 3.3k

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[Wednesday – The Arrival of the Ovens]

Max and Caroline stood outside their rented kitchen, arms crossed, watching as a delivery truck that looked way too small for their massive ovens pulled up.

Max squinted at the truck. "That thing looks like it delivers sandwiches. Not soul-crushingly expensive ovens."

Caroline, ever the optimist, smiled. "Maybe they're really good at compact packing."

Max gave her a deadpan look. "Caroline. We bought two ovens the size of small cars."

As if on cue, the delivery guy—mid-40s, chewing gum like it was a profession—hopped out of the truck, clipboard in hand. "You gals order some ovens?"

Max tilted her head. "Depends. Did you bring them in your pocket?"

The delivery guy smirked and smacked the side of the truck. "Nah, they're in here. Just gotta... you know, maneuver 'em out."

Caroline clapped her hands. "Great! Let's get them inside."

The guy opened the back of the truck, and immediately, Max and Caroline's enthusiasm took a nosedive.

The ovens were in there... barely. Wedged in like a bad game of Tetris, held together with two straps and what looked like pure luck.

Max took a step back. "Oh, yeah. This screams 'professional job.'"

Caroline winced. "It's fine! Let's just get them unloaded."

The delivery guy hopped up, pulled one strap, and immediately regretted it.

The ovens lurched forward.

Max sprinted away. "Nope! I am not dying for an oven. Not today!"

Caroline, ever the fearless one, threw her hands up. "WAIT! Be careful—"

Too late.

The first oven thumped onto the truck's lift with a dramatic, ominous creak. The second one... well, it decided gravity was its enemy.

It tilted.

It slid.

It CRASHED.

Right onto the pavement. Well, the other one followed it soon enough and there was another crash.

Silence.

Max blinked. "...So, do we get a discount?"

The delivery guy slowly exhaled. "Welp."

Caroline clutched her face. "Oh my god. Is it broken?! We just spent thirteen thousand dollars!"

The guy knocked on the dented side of the fallen oven. "Eh. Should be fine. These things are built tough."

Max pointed. "Yeah? You wanna climb inside and test that theory?"

Caroline inhaled deeply, smoothing out the panic from her face as she pulled out her phone. "Alright, let's not freak out. I'll just call the company and explain the situation like a rational adult."

Max snorted. "Yeah, that's gonna go great. 'Hello, my oven took a swan dive off a truck, and I'd love a new one free of charge.'"

Caroline waved her off as she tapped the number. The line rang twice before a monotone voice answered.

"Thank you for calling Superior Industrial Ovens & More, where quality meets—"

Caroline cut in. "Hi! Yes, so, we just had two ovens delivered to us, and—"

"—For customer support, press one. For sales, press two. For—"

Caroline groaned and jabbed one. Max leaned in. "Ooooh, you're getting into the menu maze. Good luck."

"Shh!" Caroline hissed as the line clicked. A new, equally bored voice replaced the last one.

"Superior Industrial Ovens, this is Todd, how can I help you?"

"Hi, Todd! So, we had two ovens delivered just now, and one of them, um... fell. Off the truck."

Silence.

Then: "Uh-huh."

Caroline forced a polite laugh. "And I was wondering what we can do about that?"

Todd chewed on something—gum? His own soul? It was unclear. "Mmm, was it damaged in transit?"

Caroline blinked. "Well, considering it was technically still in transit when it crashed to the ground, I'd say yes."

"Yeah, we don't really cover 'dropped during delivery.' That'd be more of a 'your problem' than a 'our problem' situation."

Caroline stiffened. "I—okay, but your delivery guy is the one who untied the strap, and then gravity did its thing. So..."

"Did you personally sign for the delivery?"

Caroline glanced at the clipboard, still in the delivery guy's hand. "Not yet."

"Then technically, it hasn't been delivered."

Max's eyes widened. "Ooooh, I like this Todd guy. He's got scammer energy."

Caroline waved her away and tried again. "Listen, Todd, is there a manager I could..."

"Ma'am, even if you speak to a manager, our policy states..."

And that was when Max snatched the phone from Caroline's hand.

"HEY, TODD."

A pause. Then, cautiously, "Uh... yeah?"

"Here's what's gonna happen. You're gonna stop chewing whatever you're chewing because I can hear it and it's disgusting... you're gonna put me on with someone who has power, and they're gonna fix this before I show up at your warehouse and bake you inside one of these defective death traps you call ovens."

Todd sputtered. "Ma'am, I don't think..."

"Wrong, Todd. You don't think. That's why you work in customer service."

Caroline gasped. "Max!"

Max ignored her. "You sent us an oven with the structural integrity of a paper bag and charged us thirteen grand for the privilege. So, Todd, unless you want me to start making calls to every bad review site and tell the world your ovens explode on contact with fresh air, you're gonna fix. This. Now."

Silence.

Then: "Please hold."

Max tossed the phone onto the counter with a victorious smirk. "Two minutes, tops."

Caroline gawked. "That was..."

"Effective?"

"Rude!"

Max shrugged. "You say rude, I say results-oriented."

Two minutes later, Todd's voice returned, this time... meek.

"Uh, yeah, so... We're sending replacements. They should be there in about two hours."

Caroline gasped. "Really?!"

"Yup," Todd sighed. "Apparently, there's a 'special escalation team' for 'aggressive New York customers.'"

Max grinned. "Damn right, there is."

Caroline beamed. "Oh, wow! Thank you so much, Todd, we really appreciate it!"

Todd sighed again. "I don't get paid enough for this."

Max picked up the phone. "No one does, Todd. No one does." Click.

Caroline clapped. "Max, I can't believe that worked!"

Max leaned back, smug. "Caroline, people don't respond to politeness. They respond to the fear of lawsuits."

...

Two hours later, Max and Caroline stood outside their rented kitchen again, arms crossed, as a new delivery truck pulled up.

This one was bigger.

And this time?

It wasn't just one poor, gum-chewing dude sent to do a ten-man job.

No.

This time, they sent an entire squad.

Three men in company uniforms hopped out, looking alert and terrified, as if someone had personally threatened their paychecks (which, considering Todd's nervous breakdown, was very likely).

The lead guy, balding and stressed, jogged up to them, clipboard in hand. "Ladies. We are SO sorry about the earlier, uh… incident."

Caroline smiled politely. "Oh, it's fine! Things happen."

Max, beside her, smirked. "Yeah. Gravity happens."

The lead guy wiped his forehead. "Haha. Yeah. Well. Uh… don't worry, we brought extra manpower to make sure there are no accidents this time."

Max eyed the four guys standing by the truck. "So, your company realized that one dude with a truck the size of a lunchbox wasn't gonna cut it, huh?"

The lead guy chuckled nervously. "Uh, yeah. We, um… reevaluated our, uh… logistical strategy."

Caroline whispered to Max, "You traumatized Todd so badly that they restructured their entire delivery system."

Max grinned. "Good. I'm doing society a favor."

The crew quickly got to work, this time with the correct equipment... a motorized lift, a dolly, and actual teamwork (who would've thought?).

Caroline, hands on her hips, sighed in relief. "See? This is how deliveries are supposed to go."

Max nodded. "Yeah. No death drops. No oven fatalities. Just good, clean corporate panic."

[20 minutes later]

After zero disasters (a miracle), the two massive ovens were finally in place inside the rented kitchen.

The crew even cleaned up the wreckage from the previous delivery because apparently, when you terrify a company enough, they throw in free services.

The lead guy handed Caroline a final receipt, looking visibly relieved that the job was done.

Caroline smiled. "Thanks so much! You guys were great."

Max patted the oven. "And these bad boys better work, or I'm calling Todd again."

The lead guy paled. "They work. I promise."

And with that, the crew practically sprinted back to their truck like men escaping a war zone.

Max smirked as they peeled away. "That was fun."

Caroline exhaled. "Max, I think you just changed Todd's entire career trajectory."

Max dusted off her hands. "Good. Maybe now he'll try."

Caroline shook her head and turned to their new ovens, beaming. "Alright! Now that we have these babies, we can finally get started on our test batches!"

Max groaned. "Ugh, baking already? Can't we have a day off?"

Caroline shot her a look. "Max, we just spent thirteen grand."

Max sighed. "Fiiiine. But I'm taste-testing everything."

Caroline smirked. "Only if you don't set anything on fire."

Max scoffed. "Pfft. When have I ever..."

Caroline raised an eyebrow.

Max immediately looked away. "Okay, fair. But that was one time."

Caroline rolled up her sleeves. "Let's get to work."

...

The ovens stood in their gleaming, industrial glory, perfectly positioned in the rented kitchen. Their pristine stainless-steel doors reflected the harsh overhead lighting, and the digital control panels blinked with an intimidating array of buttons.

Max eyed them with a mix of suspicion and exhaustion. "So, what now? We just shove some dough inside and hope for the best?"

Caroline, already flipping through a thick stack of papers, didn't even look up. "No, Max. We have to read the manuals first."

Max groaned. "Ugh. Words."

Caroline shook a pamphlet at her. "These are not just 'words.' These are instructions that ensure we don't blow up the kitchen."

Max squinted at the booklet in Caroline's hand. The title, Superior Industrial Oven Model X9200: Operations, Safety, and Warranty Guide, was printed in bold, joyless font. Beneath it, in even smaller text: Warning: Improper use may result in severe injury, fire, or death.

Max snorted. "Well, that's reassuring."

Caroline kept reading, flipping pages with alarming focus. "Okay, so first thing's first, we need to calibrate the temperature settings and set up the self-cleaning cycle."

Max plopped down onto a stool. "Oooor… we skip ahead to the 'make delicious cupcakes' part."

Caroline shot her a look. "Max. We just spent thirteen thousand dollars. We are reading. The. Manual."

Max sighed dramatically and reached for the second, even thicker manual. It was the kind of book that could double as a blunt weapon in a fight. She flipped to a random page and read aloud:

"'Before first use, ensure all protective plastic and foam inserts are removed from the interior cavity. Failure to do so may result in melting, smoke damage, or irreversible system failure.'"

She frowned. "Wait. Are you telling me we have to go on a scavenger hunt to find hidden bits of plastic inside this thing before we can even turn it on?"

Caroline nodded, already reaching for a flashlight. "Exactly. Start checking."

Max groaned but got up, opening the heavy oven door and peering inside. "Alright, let's see… metal racks, temperature probes, fancy convection fan…" She reached in and pulled out a crumpled sheet of foam tucked into the back corner. "Aha! Found one."

Caroline clapped. "See? You're already helping!"

Max tossed the foam onto the counter. "Yeah, yeah. Add 'treasure hunter' to my résumé."

The two of them spent the next ten minutes digging through both ovens, finding bits of hidden packing materials in the most ridiculous places... tucked into crevices, wedged under racks, even stuffed behind the control panels.

At one point, Max found a small, folded card stuck to the back of the oven interior. She squinted at the fine print. "Huh. There's a customer hotline listed here. 'For technical support or emergencies, call 1-800—'"

Caroline looked up. "You better not say 'Todd.'"

Max smirked. "I mean, what if Todd is our assigned rep for life now?" She raised an eyebrow. "What if we are Todd's villain origin story?"

Caroline groaned. "Please. That man sounded two phone calls away from quitting his entire job."

Max chuckled, tossing the card onto the counter. "Alright, all clear. No plastic bombs waiting to sabotage us."

Caroline wiped her hands on her apron. "Perfect. Now we set up the self-cleaning cycle."

Max narrowed her eyes. "I have a very important question."

Caroline blinked. "What?"

Max pointed at the oven. "Why does something that's supposed to cook food have to clean itself before we use it?"

Caroline flipped back to the manual. "It's to burn off any residual factory oils or coatings. Standard procedure."

Max threw her hands up. "Great. Love that. Because nothing says 'delicious bakery' like the smell of burning machine grease."

Caroline ignored her and pressed a series of buttons on the control panel. The oven beeped to life, and a small digital display read: SELF-CLEANING CYCLE: 60 MINUTES.

A low whirring sound filled the kitchen as heat started to build inside the oven.

Max took a cautious step back. "Sooo… we just let it… incinerate itself for an hour?"

Caroline nodded. "Exactly."

Max crossed her arms. "And what are we supposed to do while we wait? Meditate? Contemplate our life choices?"

Caroline held up another thick booklet. "Actually, now would be a great time to go over warranty details."

"Well, you do that, while I annoy Han using my seventh fake stripper account," Max pulled out her phone. 

....

[Meanwhile, Todd]

Todd, the overweight fat guy weighing over the normal human limit, sat in his gray cubicle at Superior Industrial Ovens & More, staring blankly at his headset. His fingers trembled slightly over his keyboard, his breathing uneven. Well, he has a weird hidden fetish that suddenly awakened with Max's voice... 

His heart was pounding.

His mind replayed the call... her voice, sharp and commanding, slicing through the drudgery of his dead-end job like a knife.

"HEY, TODD."

Goosebumps erupted over his arms.

The authority. The dominance. The sheer, unrelenting control.

Todd had spent years enduring the abuse of customers—entitled chefs, clueless bakery owners, and impatient restaurant managers. But this?

This was different.

He had been overpowered.

Steamrolled.

Crushed.

And he had loved it.

His chubby fingers hovered over the keyboard as he bit his lip, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. Somewhere in his mind, a long-dormant part of him stirred awake.

"Unless you want me to start making calls to every bad review site and tell the world your ovens explode on contact with fresh air, you're gonna fix. This. Now."

Todd inhaled sharply.

The sheer confidence. The disdain. The way she took what she wanted without hesitation.

His entire body tingled.

Slowly, deliberately, he reached for his coffee, only to realize his hand was shaking.

Who was she?

'Max…' He checked the information on the screen.

He whispered her name under his breath, barely audible.

The entire time she had spoken to him, he had been nothing more than an object in her way... an obstacle she bulldozed through with zero hesitation. She had used him, commanded him, bent him to her will... (It's all in his mind. Poor guy with a Mistress fetish. Everyone has their own fetish. Who are we to judge?)

Todd clenched his fists, suppressing a shudder.

It had been the single most arousing moment of his life.

His supervisor, a tired woman named Linda, walked past his cubicle and stopped. She narrowed her eyes.

"Todd."

He jolted upright. "Y-Yeah?"

Linda frowned. "Why are you sweating?"

Todd blinked. He was, in fact, drenched. His forehead glistened, his shirt clung to his rotund form, and his breath was coming in short, uneven gasps.

He had to get it together.

"I—uh—just hot in here. You know. Ovens. Heh."

Linda gave him a skeptical look. "Right. Well, corporate just approved the emergency replacement you escalated."

Todd sat up straighter. "They did?"

"Yeah. The CEO's assistant signed off on it immediately. Apparently, they have a special escalation protocol for customers after their fourth lawsuit... The company can't afford another one," She flipped through her notes. 

Todd swallowed. "That's… Bad?"

Linda shrugged. "Either way, good job handling that call. You got it sorted fast. Keep that up, and you might actually be looking at a raise."

Todd barely heard her.

His mind was still on her.

Max.

His Mistress.

As Linda walked away, Todd slowly stood up from his chair, staring up at the bathroom door at the end of the room.

He had a new purpose now. He grabbed his phone and headphones and made his way to the end goal...

...

Todd had rushed to the bathroom, phone in hand, sweaty, trembling, and still mentally reeling from his call with Max, the terrifying goddess of customer service domination.

His mind was a mess and he needed to relieve some stress.

So, naturally, he pulled up Mistress Veronica's House of Discipline, Volume 7 on his phone. (🤣)

The second he pressed play, a sultry, commanding female voice boomed through the entire office.

"YOU'VE BEEN A VERY NAUGHTY LITTLE OFFICE DRONE, HAVEN'T YOU?"

The entire room went dead silent.

Employees stopped typing.

Phones were slowly lowered.

Linda, Todd's long-suffering supervisor, spat out her coffee.

Todd, in the bathroom, froze mid-button of his pants.

Then came the next line.

"DO YOU DESERVE TO BE PUNISHED, TODD?"

Somewhere, a printer beeped in confusion.

Linda, still processing what was happening, snapped her head up toward Todd's empty cubicle.

"Todd."

No answer.

She walked toward his desk.

Todd's phone was missing. His computer was off. But then—

She saw it.

The Bluetooth setting.

Connected to: CORPORATE SPEAKERS – MAIN FLOOR.

"GET ON YOUR KNEES AND BEG, YOU FILTHY LITTLE CUSTOMER SERVICE SLAVE."

Chaos erupted.

One guy screamed. Another fell out of his chair. Someone tripped over a trash can.

Linda slammed the mute button on the speaker system.

Silence.

A long, awkward, horrified silence.

Then, in the distance, the faint sound of running.

Linda's eye twitched.

"TODD!!!"

[Bathroom]

Todd wasn't even breathing. He stared at his phone in pure, unholy terror. Slowly... shakily... he turned off the audio. But it was too late. Because outside, he could hear it—

The sound of Linda marching toward him like the Grim Reaper in high heels.

Todd let out a weak, defeated whimper.

"Oh… oh no."

[Ten Minutes Later – Todd's Swift Downfall]

Todd sat in a tiny, airless conference room, sweating bullets as Linda stood over him, arms crossed, face set in maximum corporate rage.

He knew it was over.

Linda exhaled through her nose. "Todd."

He swallowed. "Y-Yes?"

"Do you have any last words before I fire you so hard your grandchildren will feel it?"

Todd wiped his sweaty forehead. "I... I think this is all just a misunderstanding?"

Linda deadpanned. "A misunderstanding?"

Todd nodded quickly. "Y-Yeah! I mean… um… you know, Bluetooth is... tricky! And, uh… technology fails all the time! And—"

Linda held up a printed transcript of the exact words that had played over the speakers.

Todd shut up immediately.

Linda took a deep, cleansing breath. "Todd. We are a company that sells ovens. Ovens, Todd. Not fetish experiences. Not BDSM fantasies. And definitely not your weird customer service kink."

Todd sank lower into his chair.

Linda pinched the bridge of her nose. "You are fired. Take your things and get out of here."

"But..."

Linda slammed her hands on the table. "GET. OUT."

Todd scrambled to his feet, humiliated, devastated, and vaguely aroused.

As he stumbled out of the room, one of the interns whispered, "Dude, did you seriously just get fired over a Mistress porno?"

Todd, broken and ashamed, could only nod.

And that was the end of Todd's career at Superior Industrial Ovens & More.

[Meanwhile – Max & Caroline]

Max sneezed.

Caroline looked up from the oven manual. "You okay?"

Max shrugged. "Dunno. Probably just some loser somewhere thinking about me."

Caroline snorted. "That tracks."

Little did she know…

Somewhere, in the corporate graveyard of failed employees, Todd whispered her name in longing.

"Max…"

And that, dear reader, was how Todd fell in love, got fired, and accidentally became a legend. (We will see Todd again)

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AN: Next chapter will start with a little time skip. Cupcakes Delivery date.

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