The Employee in Cuba

My boss at the State bar-restaurant was the manager: a stout man in moccasins with his own black Toyota Yaris, a really beautiful car, that he used to park every morning in one of the areas of my responsibility, once I had finished cleaning up. His wife was a pompous blond woman, who used to throw a juice box on the ground every morning before getting out of the car, and she would spend the whole day dithering about.