I got myself up for work on Monday and felt horrible. In case I haven't mentioned it yet, I hate my job. I work in the city. It's a 40 minute drive. That's actually the best part of it. I love the city and I don't mind the drive. It gets me out of here.
But I hate my job. I work customer service for a satellite-television provider. They're called SAT TV. Maybe you've heard of them. They're a national company. I'm on the phone all day long listening to unhappy people.
Anyway, I was thinking about all of this as I got into my car, put the key in the ignition, turned the key and then ---- nothing. I tried several times but each time, nothing.
I dropped my head down on the steering wheel and would have burst into tears if it weren't for the fact my makeup was fresh. After several minutes of not knowing what to do, I called my boss and told her I would be late. She told me I would have to work through my lunch to make up my time. Fine.
I called Brandon and asked him if he would drive me. I knew he would be the only one available. Everyone else was on their way to work or lived too far away. Brandon lives right here in town, but he owns his own junk business so he can come and go as he pleases.
Brandon showed up with his dog, Rocky. Rocky is a Mastiff, larger than a house and he slobbers. A lot. And, of course, Brandon decided to show up in his work truck, the one that says "Fletcher Junk" on the sides and back.
I opened the door and grudgingly got in beside Rocky. Brandon chain smokes so my whole ride to work could be summed up by saying I rode in a cloud of smoke with dog saliva on my arm.
"Do you want me to pick you up, too," Brandon asked.
"No, I can handle it. I'll just take a cab to the airport and rent a car."
"That's a big waste of time," he said flicking cigarette ashes on my shoes.
"No, it's fine."
"Well, then I'll take your car to mechanic for you."
Finally, we made it to work. That must have been the longest ride of my life. I thanked Brandon and gave him my car keys. I would have given him a hug, I really would have, but it was bad enough I was going to smell like a combination of chimney and dog kibble all day.
But I hate my job. I work customer service for a satellite-television provider. They're called SAT TV. Maybe you've heard of them. They're a national company. I'm on the phone all day long listening to unhappy people.
Anyway, I was thinking about all of this as I got into my car, put the key in the ignition, turned the key and then ---- nothing. I tried several times but each time, nothing.
I dropped my head down on the steering wheel and would have burst into tears if it weren't for the fact my makeup was fresh. After several minutes of not knowing what to do, I called my boss and told her I would be late. She told me I would have to work through my lunch to make up my time. Fine.
I called Brandon and asked him if he would drive me. I knew he would be the only one available. Everyone else was on their way to work or lived too far away. Brandon lives right here in town, but he owns his own junk business so he can come and go as he pleases.
Brandon showed up with his dog, Rocky. Rocky is a Mastiff, larger than a house and he slobbers. A lot. And, of course, Brandon decided to show up in his work truck, the one that says "Fletcher Junk" on the sides and back.
I opened the door and grudgingly got in beside Rocky. Brandon chain smokes so my whole ride to work could be summed up by saying I rode in a cloud of smoke with dog saliva on my arm.
"Do you want me to pick you up, too," Brandon asked.
"No, I can handle it. I'll just take a cab to the airport and rent a car."
"That's a big waste of time," he said flicking cigarette ashes on my shoes.
"No, it's fine."
"Well, then I'll take your car to mechanic for you."
Finally, we made it to work. That must have been the longest ride of my life. I thanked Brandon and gave him my car keys. I would have given him a hug, I really would have, but it was bad enough I was going to smell like a combination of chimney and dog kibble all day.
