Last night I decided to perform our mid-month pickle packaging for about 12 orders. No big deal, right? Well it took slightly longer than I expected, and 1:30 am rolled around before I finally wrapped up. Next time I’ll start BEFORE that Seventeen Magazine show, Run’s House, and any other joyously brain-rotting shows on MTV suck me in. By the way, Run’s House is fantastic. Add it to the Laguna/Seventeen pantheon of ridiculously awful awesome shows I now watch.
Getting to bed that late usually means a hurried trip to the train station the next morning. This morning was no exception, and I made it out of the house with exactly enough time to A) get a parking pass and B) catch the train. That was before I slid on the rain-slicked road and into the back of a car at a 4-way stop who decided not to go when I thought he would. Luckily, I hit him at approximate 1 mph, so when we both got out and took a look, neither car had visible damage other than my bent license plate, and we were on our way. Oh yeah, and I poured a large amount of hot coffee on my leg when I bumped him. Super! This slight delay shot my schedule to hell, so though I made my train, I’m hoping the City of Waukegan falls for my ruse of an outdated parking pass obscured by the windshield wiper and spares me a $5 ticket (I know, is it even worth $5 to take the time to write it? I should be happy it’s that cheap, but for some reason that makes it more aggravating).
The moral of this tale of woe is two-fold: we put our customers first at the expense of sleep, and assume the guy stopped in front of you will NOT go when you expect him to.