June 29th 2016
Today was my penultimate shift as a Pizza serving man. My Wednesday night regulars said “see you next week” and I got to say “no you won’t, my last shift is on Saturday”
I was on a pointless 3-7 shift that was just supposed to cover the transition between quiet afternoon and quiet night. But inexplicably, it got busy. Real busy, real fast. At like 6:30 a flood of tables came in, and I gave up any hope of leaving at 7.
Technically I’m allowed to. I was scheduled at 7, so I could leave at 7. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. There was me and one girl serving out front, and my manager and a guy in the kitchen. If I left they would’ve crumbled, so I had to stay to help.
Even though it’s my penultimate shift, even though I’m leaving soon, and even though the girl I was on shift with has been known to go home early and leave me in the lurch; I couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t want them to suffer or struggle because I wanted to go home on time. And the customers would get bad service, and they’d be angry, and they’d complain, and the restaurant would get worse and worse and yada yada. So I stuck around until everything had calmed down. I told myself that I’d be able to just walk out at 7pm and be done with it, but when it came to it, I still care about the place. And even though I leave on Saturday, I still want the restaurant to do well.
I’ve been there six years, of course I do.
Six years. Blimey.
And I have four hours left. A 5-9 on Saturday, before I start my new job on Monday. Blimey.