During a busy shift, I really wanted to know what time I was supposed to work the next day. Because I don't have a smartphone to check, I texted my coworker, Chris, and asked him what time I was scheduled in tomorrow. "4:30 PM" he replied.
"Excellent," I thought, excited I could sleep in. After I got off work that evening, I met up with some buddies at the bar, then went straight to a friend's where I spent the night.
The next morning I was abruptly awakened by my phone's Star Wars ring tone. Half asleep, I pushed random buttons until it stopped blaring at me. A few minutes later, however, the voicemail alert started to sound. "Who is calling me and what do they want?" I wondered as I fumbled through the menu to check my messages.
"Laura, it's Bob," I recognized my manager's voice. "Where are you? You were supposed to open this morning." *click*
"DAMMIT, CHRIS!" I thought as I flew out of bed and started gathering my things. I hadn't planned on going back into work without stopping at home first, and quickly realized I had no toothbrush, no makeup, and only a shirt from the previous night's shift that was covered in ranch spills and mustard splatters. "Oh well!" I thought as I took a quick glance in the mirror at my haggard reflection. "Sympathy tips for sure."
I drove to work as fast as I could, expecting to arrive to a thoroughly pissed off manager. I thought about all the lame excuses I could use for being late, but decided I'd better just tell the truth and admit that I had my schedule wrong. I took a deep breath and opened the door, ready for my manager to rip into me.
I walked up to him, terrified. "I am so so sorry," I started.
"Geeze," he said, almost taken aback. "Are you sick?"
Instead of being angry at my tardiness, he was disgusted by the fact I hadn't taken the time to primp.
My manager looked at me the way you look at a dirty homeless person: half sympathetic, half repulsed. "I guess I should have told you to take the time to shower..."
