I work nights. I like working nights. My brain doesn’t function well before 11am.
Last weekend I closed the bar, got home and went to bed at 3am. My alarm goes off at 8am. I jolt out of bed. WHAT is going on? Oh that’s right, I’ve agreed to work a brunch shift. I stumble over there.
In a fog, I proceed to get the bar ready. I put on the heavy-duty leather work gloves and take the recycling out back. This is one of my least favorite tasks. All the glass bottles must be put in the recycling bin one at a time or risk the wrath of the old woman next door. She will yell and then she’ll call the owners.
As I’m doing this a clean-cut old guy wanders up. He waves me aside,
“I will do this.”
“I need to do it. I have to do it one bottle at a time.”
“Yes, yes. I will do it.”
I stand back. He’s not collecting the beer bottles. He is taking some of the wine bottles. I don’t really care, because whatever he’s doing, he’s doing it quietly.
I head back inside and return with another trash bin full of bottles. The old guy waves me away again. He declares,
“I will do this one too and bring it back inside for you.”
“Ok. Thank you.”
“Same time tomorrow?”
“Yes and 3:30pm on weekdays.”
I wander back inside still wearing my leather work gloves. I see a couple servers polishing silverware. I tell them,
“Some guy just wandered up and offered to empty the recycling bins for me.”
“And you’re letting him?”
Everyone stares at me like I’m crazy.
“Please. If some old guy wandered in here and offered to do your job, you’d be all about it.”
Everyone thinks for a minute,
It’s 9:30am. I’m standing around in heavy-duty leather work gloves wondering what’s going on.
The old guy pops around the corner with the empty recycling bin and says,
“Thank you very much! See you tomorrow!”