I'm ready for this day to be over with already and the sun isn't even down yet. It went okay until about five but then quickly began to unravel.
I should have seen this day coming over the back yard fence. I've been on a roll lately. Found a great parking space close to the elevator every day for well over a week in the parking deck at work. Even one day when the sign said there was only one available parking spot out of all five levels I managed to snag it and was steps away from the elevator which turned out not to matter because it was even on the first level by the shuttle buses. Then every shift I'd go in for eight hours and walk out with three hundred dollars, a couple of times more. All my customers were off the chain great, I could have been selling swamp water to them and would have all asked for second rounds and one to go. People left me nice little notes on the bill and a couple of them even stopped me on their way out to thank me and tell me what a great job I did. I was feeling their love! Got all the bills but one paid, another one of my male dogs castrated (neutered) and got to take a day off to go to a really cool wedding of two friends with my younger son as my date.
The serving profession is basically a crap shoot at best and worst. I don't care how good you are how on your game you are or who walks in the door and sits at your table, there is no guarantee you won't crap out sometimes. You can't bat 400 every game every time or always make the shot.
You just simply can't. That's a fact. The job is a gamble, every day and every shift.
After thirty five years I of all people should know that, especially given how the past five years have been.
I left early for work this morning in my borrowed F-150 pickem' up truck to drop Zach off at work first. In true Cotton fashion his car's not running either. Well it's running but won't pass emissions for a tag.
We pulled out of the neighborhood around seven thirty and was pretty foggy. Zach asked if I had my headlights on? I flipped them on and said yes.
It was an okay day shift, nothing to write home about and made almost two hundred. Problem was, I didn't have a lot of people tip over eighteen percent (which I walk out with in cash) and everything went on my paycheck. Bigger problem, payday isn't until Thursday. I had just enough gas to get Zach and me to work and planned on gassing up before leaving the airport for home. I had made thirty extra dollars, it cost twelve to park, tipped out twelve and had six bucks left for gas. That thought depressed me considering had to get back and forth to the airport the next day as well.
I got real bummed when decided would have to take gas money out of my savings account. Then felt a little better when thought about the fact I hadn't even had a savings account in over six years.
That's something!
The sardine shuttle was jammed pack full of passengers returning home when I got off work around five. It was a long five minute ride back to the parking deck with a screaming baby and twelve other sweaty passengers.
I took the elevator up the the third level where had parked that morning. In hindsight should have known when had to park three levels up, my run of good luck was over.
I walked down to the truck and got in. Put the key in to crank it up and nothing happened.
Like a sharp punch in the gut, Zach's words came back to haunt me. "Mom, do you have your headlights on?"
I looked down and saw the headlight switch still in the ON position.
For Pete's sake!
I got out of the truck and walked over to the emergency call box to ask for a jump from the same guys who did diddly squat to help me when my car broke down in the deck at the beginning of January on a night when it was eleven degrees.
On a side vent, my car is still in the shop and pretty ticked about that too.
The dude came over about ten minutes later and hooked up his jumpy charger thing (NOT a technical term) to my borrowed truck. It didn't crank right up and the dude asked how much gas I had?
"Well not a lot but my low fuel light hasn't come on." (me)
"Lady, you need at least three gallons or so to crank it up. Call somebody to bring you some gas and then we'll come back up here and help you." (dude)
Zach was at work waiting on me to pick him up in Newnan, Massey was on Spring Break in Florida, Tim was a thousand miles away in Lubbock, Texas and my sister and her husband were in Madrid.
I got out my cell phone and started from the letter 'A' in my contacts. I needed someone who lived close to the airport. I hit on two people who lived within one mile, neither answered. I kept on scrolling and hit on a co worker who lived five minutes from there. I crossed my fingers and pressed call. I don't really know her that well, she started after me and work maybe one shift together a week.
She answered!
She said if had called five minutes later, would have been gone but said would call me back in five minutes...and did.
She had something to do but would come help me out first. She had to go buy a gas can and get fuel but would be there shortly...and was.
I started counting money again and did some quick thinking. I still had twenty bucks in my checking account so could use my card at the parking exit then still have eighteen in cash to pay my co worker back for the gas, can and her own parking. Under thirty minutes cost two bucks to park.
Dang...she bought a five gallon gas can! That had to set her back at least twenty bucks.
Now was back to being in the red but could at least get home now. We both held up the big can and glugged the gas in. I asked her how much I owed and said just ten bucks for the gas, said she'd been meaning to buy a gas can for a while and now had one.
How nice was that ? Things were definitely looking up. I told her thank you, hugged her neck and gave her twelve bucks. I owe her Big Time.
I told her to go ahead and leave and would have Mr. Do Diddly Squat come back and jump me off since she had plans. I hugged her one more time and realized once again how wonderful it is to have friends and now even have another bffl!
It took Mr. Do Diddly Squat over thirty five minutes to come back. Actually wasn't even him who came back at all some chick did, but the truck fired right up and after getting off at five was on my way home at almost seven.
You know what?
LIFE'S a crap shoot but have turned out to be a pretty lucky gambler. Heck, at least I'm still in the game!
On the ride home I had some time to think and decompress.
The first thing which struck me was how on earth did we survive these past few years when it was bad day after bad day after bad day after bad day etc... ?
Here's the thing my simple little mind figured out:
I guess you could say I'm a professional resilient gambler. Sounds much better than being unemployed, homeless and can be sometimes extremely gratifying!
This too shall pass.
Heck, two days have passed since beginning this post!
You know what?
I'm a winner!
My husband is a winner!
We're both still here and kicking. I'm skinny and scrawny but more than anything have at least as much gusto as Granny Clampett did, one of my favorite fictional heroes.
My biggest question is why am I starting to look like her?
Til next time...COTTON
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