After finishing up a long shift last night, I couldn't find my keys anywhere. I asked the bartender, the cooks, the manager, and the regulars; no one had seen a pair of keys. In denial that they were locked in my car, I ordered a beer.
Post-brew, I made my way to the parking lot only to discover what I already knew. Lo and behold, there they were- sitting on my front seat. I tried all the doors, cursed at the world, and headed back into the restaurant where I called my parents and begged them to bring me my spare keys.
The only thing worse than working at a restaurant is not being able to leave once you clock out. The only thing worse than not being able to leave once you clock out is being 22 years old and having to call your mom for a ride.
