Standard disclaimers apply.

Skipping down the stairs from the apartment above the bar, Parker paused at the bottom of the flight of steps. She tilted her head in thought, then headed in the opposite direction of where the noise of patrons chatter and clinking glasses could be heard. Instead she took a left and then ducked through the door under the stairs that led to the manager's office. "Hardi…" she trailed off as the object of her search came into view. She frowned and raised an eyebrow as she took in the scene in front of her.

Hardison was slumped in a chair, looking every bit the picture of disappointment as he stared morosely at a stack of papers in front of his keyboard. His arms were crossed and his chin was resting on his chest as he sighed aloud.

"But there's plenty of orange soda in the fridge," she said after a moment.

Jumping slightly at her voice, Hardison looked up. But rather than responding, he just blew out a sigh between loose lips in a noise of frustration.

Parker frowned at his lack of enthusiasm. Crossing the small space, she hopped up on the desk and swung her legs in front of her. "What's wrong?"

"I need to hire another bartender," he said, glaring at the papers on his desk.

Glancing at the sheets, Parker nodded as she noticed that the top one was an application that someone had filled in with scrawling blue ink. "So… pick one?"

"But that's the problem!" he objected.

She eyed the thick stack, then picked it up and plopped it onto her lap. "What, that there's so many?" she wanted to know, tilting up the first page to read the content. "What's wrong with this one? Four years' experience at a pub in Brooklyn. He's even got references."

"Yeah, but he won't work," Hardison told her.

Parker raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

"He has a degree! A bachelor's degree and halfway to a master's!"

Blinking, she just stared at him.

"What?"

"Okay, fine," she said after a moment. She put the top sheet to the side and studied the second application in the pile. "Well… Okay, maybe not this one." She pulled a face and tossed the form to the floor. "What about this next one? Three years of bartending experience here and ten other years in Sacramento."

"But she's loaded," he said with a shake of his head.

Parker frowned. "What? What does that matter? And what did you do, run a full history on every single person here? Isn't that abusing your power or something?"

"Hey, I wanna make sure I get the right person for the job. What's wrong with that?" he asked, spreading his arms in question.

There was another brief pause as Parker regarded him from her seat on the desktop. "Hardison, you're hiring bar staff, not researching a mark." Even as she spoke, she was paging through more of the stack of applications, and she interrupted herself to thrust another towards Hardison. "Look, here, this one's name is Trevor. Trevor's a nice name. Pick him."

Hardison glanced at the paperwork, then shook his head. "No, he has a support system."

"What?" If possible, Parker's frown deepened even more.

He sat up and leaned forward. "Parker, I can't hire just anyone off the street! Not when there are so many people in this town who are down on their luck and have nowhere to turn!"

"Oh." Her face lit up a moment later. "Oh, I get it! You're trying to hire people who actually need the job. Then they won't quit on you as soon as some of your other hires have."

Having been nodding along with the start of her statement, Hardison suddenly stopped with her second sentence. "Uh, no, that's not it."

But Parker was busy speedreading through the papers in her lap, tossing each one aside as she finished. "No… no… nope… Ew, no…" Then she paused to wave one in his direction. "Well, that one with the degree is probably a better choice than this one with no work experience for the past fifteen years," she commented before tossing it to the ground and turning to the one after it.

"Wait, what?" Hardison reached to catch the fluttering sheet. He missed it by a hair and grabbed it off the floor, his eyes darting back and forth as he skimmed the neat script that filled the printed fields. "Parker, you're a genius, woman!"

"I am?" she looked up and blinked in surprise. "What did I do?"

"She's a recent widow with six kids! Approved!" He grinned broadly and reached over for his phone that was resting on the desk. "We gotta get her in here for an interview!"

"O...kay." Then Parker shrugged and jumped up, sending the rest of the sheets flying in every direction. "I'm gonna go get donuts; I'll bring back one of those orange ones you like." And then she brushed past him and swung the door shut behind herself.

He could hear her feet as she went down the hall, but he was too busy dialing to pay much attention. And then the call was ringing, and a woman's voice came through the line.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Mrs. Knight?" Hardison was smiling broadly as he greeted the woman on the other end. "Hi, I'm calling about the application you turned in the other day. Yes! Yes, I'd love to meet you; can you come in this afternoon?"

My headcanon is that most of the bar staff are down-on-their-luck people who the team has helped in some way - at least with getting a job, even if not by running an actual con. And I mean, Hardison does own the place; I think he's way more involved than we ever see.