I got to work at 2:45 yesterday. If you start at 2:45, they let you add the extra fifteen minutes to your time card. I work four shifts this week- Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday- and will come in fifteen minutes early for each one. That's an extra hour on the ol' pay check. Dave wins.
When I got to work at 2:45 (somewhere around 2:43, actually, but who's counting?), I was already half way through a 16 oz. Americano that I had picked up at a coffee/internet cafe. I was given a little crap about bringing in outside coffee, but I assured them that I would fill it with Southside Mini Mart coffee when I was done.
As she was leaving, my boss said that there was severe weather in the forecast. She said that if I needed to, I could go down into the basement. "Like the lower part where all the pop cases are?" I asked.
"No," she smiled and nodded toward a trap door in the floor next to the Doritos that led to the furnace. "Hope you don't mind spiders." I don't mind spiders. Correction: I am scared to death of spiders. But two years in Africa made me accustom to spiders that could make a mess of a Minnesota spider in a cage match. Still, the idea of huddling next to the furnace while a twister ripped my place of employment from its foundations and threw it across town didn't appeal to me. I looked out the window at the darkening clouds. Seven hours to go.
I hammered the Americano in about ten minutes and refilled the cup with the Southside Mini Mart's 100% Colombian blend. Soon my focus had shifted from the weather to the bathroom. During training, my teacher had stressed that if I should have to go to the bathroom, I should either wait until another employee who could watch the till came in or I should give one of the closer employees a call. This all seemed like a lot of bother to urinate. Instead, I focused my mind, concentrated on my breathing and held it. I didn't, however, stop drinking coffee. When I left Zambia I gave up cigarettes. My parents are on a low carb diet, so I stopped eating bread. I wasn't going to give up coffee.
The dark clouds had rolled in, looked threateningly at the poor unsuspecting inhabitants of Staples and then had unleashed what turned out to be a steady drizzle. The part of me that enjoys summer storms was a little disappointed. The part of me that's still a little freaked out about spiders was relieved. The part of me that had consumed 48 oz. of coffee in three hours was getting panicky. The pitter patter of rain didn't help. I started to consider my options:
1. Wait for someone to come in that could cover the register.
2. Call a co-worker and interrupt their night off so that I could have a pee.
3. "Go" swiftly.
I was sure I could make it. I looked out the window into the parking lot. No one. I looked at the pumps. No one. It was my chance. I made a run for it. Leaving the door slightly ajar would allow me to here the little beeper on the door if a customer walked in. It left me open to an embarrassing moment if someone came straight for the bathroom, but it was a chance I had to take.
During the process, I told myself to hurry. But these things take as long as they are going to take. Go, go, go... and buckle, and out! No time for flushing... I could come back. I re-emerged and looked around. The store was still empty. YES! I went back and flushed and put down the seat. I washed my hands thoroughly and strutted back to the register. Victory was mine, so I refilled my coffee cup.
The twister never came. All the storm did was make me wet when I walked out. I dropped the unsold newspapers into the bin outside that turned out to have an inch of water in the bottom. Oh well. Nothing could take my victory away from me.
When I got to work at 2:45 (somewhere around 2:43, actually, but who's counting?), I was already half way through a 16 oz. Americano that I had picked up at a coffee/internet cafe. I was given a little crap about bringing in outside coffee, but I assured them that I would fill it with Southside Mini Mart coffee when I was done.
As she was leaving, my boss said that there was severe weather in the forecast. She said that if I needed to, I could go down into the basement. "Like the lower part where all the pop cases are?" I asked.
"No," she smiled and nodded toward a trap door in the floor next to the Doritos that led to the furnace. "Hope you don't mind spiders." I don't mind spiders. Correction: I am scared to death of spiders. But two years in Africa made me accustom to spiders that could make a mess of a Minnesota spider in a cage match. Still, the idea of huddling next to the furnace while a twister ripped my place of employment from its foundations and threw it across town didn't appeal to me. I looked out the window at the darkening clouds. Seven hours to go.
I hammered the Americano in about ten minutes and refilled the cup with the Southside Mini Mart's 100% Colombian blend. Soon my focus had shifted from the weather to the bathroom. During training, my teacher had stressed that if I should have to go to the bathroom, I should either wait until another employee who could watch the till came in or I should give one of the closer employees a call. This all seemed like a lot of bother to urinate. Instead, I focused my mind, concentrated on my breathing and held it. I didn't, however, stop drinking coffee. When I left Zambia I gave up cigarettes. My parents are on a low carb diet, so I stopped eating bread. I wasn't going to give up coffee.
The dark clouds had rolled in, looked threateningly at the poor unsuspecting inhabitants of Staples and then had unleashed what turned out to be a steady drizzle. The part of me that enjoys summer storms was a little disappointed. The part of me that's still a little freaked out about spiders was relieved. The part of me that had consumed 48 oz. of coffee in three hours was getting panicky. The pitter patter of rain didn't help. I started to consider my options:
1. Wait for someone to come in that could cover the register.
2. Call a co-worker and interrupt their night off so that I could have a pee.
3. "Go" swiftly.
I was sure I could make it. I looked out the window into the parking lot. No one. I looked at the pumps. No one. It was my chance. I made a run for it. Leaving the door slightly ajar would allow me to here the little beeper on the door if a customer walked in. It left me open to an embarrassing moment if someone came straight for the bathroom, but it was a chance I had to take.
During the process, I told myself to hurry. But these things take as long as they are going to take. Go, go, go... and buckle, and out! No time for flushing... I could come back. I re-emerged and looked around. The store was still empty. YES! I went back and flushed and put down the seat. I washed my hands thoroughly and strutted back to the register. Victory was mine, so I refilled my coffee cup.
The twister never came. All the storm did was make me wet when I walked out. I dropped the unsold newspapers into the bin outside that turned out to have an inch of water in the bottom. Oh well. Nothing could take my victory away from me.
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