Day 2: An Unexpected Shift

 

The door sang the long, wailing chime of customer entry and the interior door clicked. I stepped into the depths of the pizza restaurant on my second day. It was also my first full day of delivering.

"Hi RI! What are you doing here?" the shift manager asked.

"Hey there, Shiftmanager!" I answered. "I was scheduled to work tonight.”

"Oh really?" he asked, moving up to the check-in desk. He grabbed a clipboard that I assumed housed the schedule and flipped a few pages. "Hmm, maybe Shiftmanager #2 didn't know about you yet, or... that is awesome... that is so awesome," he said. His face and demeanor was stoic. He kept saying awesome. I thought it was odd.

"Yep! Monday, Tuesday, Friday and Saturday," I said. I rocked back on my heels a few times. The shift manager kept staring at the schedule.

"Did they call you in?" He pressed. He stuck to the I’m-not-sure-if-you-should-be-here idea. 

"Uh, nope! That was the agreed upon schedule."

"Oh man,” he said. He dropped the clipboard and smiled. Never made eye contact, though. It was weird.

“Yeah, because, like, the other two closing drivers called in sick. It was just going to be me and Someotherguy tonight, but you here, it's like, thank God!" he said. He raised his hands and face to the yellowed, dropped-ceiling sky as he spoke his praise.

I thanked God, too. Later, though. And not with my face to the restaurant ceiling.

Let me explain. We prayed as a family over diner that my first full night of deliveries would give good tips. That was before I left home. Then I prayed for it again in the car on the way in, discussing with the Lord of the treasures of the Earth our desires to get out of debt and so on (sticking of course to the mentality of, "it would be great, but I get what I get"). Turns out, when the other drivers call in sick, there's more to do and deliver.

I brought home just under $60 in tips, which according to the staff, is a "very good Monday night." 

Prayer answered.

Thanks given.

Going to kill the debt DEAD.