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Today started promising. It was slow. Really, really slow. Slow enough to the point where my manager, of all people, challenged me to make my seventy-eight mile road course in an hour and a half - which I did, I might add - and sent our other driver home.
I jokingly say that it's going to be just busy enough to keep me on the road all day and keep the store at a moderate pace.
I really need to learn to keep my mouth shut sometimes. I really do.
Because I was on the road all day. It started off being not too bad, a few deliveries here and there, made some decent tips, and then I took our timed order for 3:30, which made it there on time with a halfway decent tip.
Then I get back.
And all hell has broken loose.
There are no less than seven stops in this next run, most of them being free because the manager - the only one in the store, mind you - dropped the ball and didn't make most of them until I was gone.
So the resident MazdaSpeed delivery boy goes into full on panic mode. I snag two bags and fill them with as much as I can and start pouring drinks. Luckily enough for me, our manager and another insider walked in, and the manager went on the road taking a few of my seven deliveries, taking my number down to three - they also just happen to be about as far apart from eachother as they can get. Regardless, I make the deliveries and still get tipped, and my last delivery even refused to not pay - although made a passing statement that she "wouldn't be ordering again" - and I finally get back, take one last delivery. This one got on site far before the predicted time, so the tip wasn't too bad. Get back to the store, and the assistant manager who I've been working with has me stay until 5:15. Store manager says I can go at 5:00. So I get my eleven dollars worth of mileage and my three bucks worth of bet cash from him, and get the hell outta Dodge while the getting's good.
And, of course, the perfect end to the perfect day - as I'm on my way home, my mortal enemy, the gas light, comes on in my car.
I'm so very glad I have tomorrow off.
I jokingly say that it's going to be just busy enough to keep me on the road all day and keep the store at a moderate pace.
I really need to learn to keep my mouth shut sometimes. I really do.
Because I was on the road all day. It started off being not too bad, a few deliveries here and there, made some decent tips, and then I took our timed order for 3:30, which made it there on time with a halfway decent tip.
Then I get back.
And all hell has broken loose.
There are no less than seven stops in this next run, most of them being free because the manager - the only one in the store, mind you - dropped the ball and didn't make most of them until I was gone.
So the resident MazdaSpeed delivery boy goes into full on panic mode. I snag two bags and fill them with as much as I can and start pouring drinks. Luckily enough for me, our manager and another insider walked in, and the manager went on the road taking a few of my seven deliveries, taking my number down to three - they also just happen to be about as far apart from eachother as they can get. Regardless, I make the deliveries and still get tipped, and my last delivery even refused to not pay - although made a passing statement that she "wouldn't be ordering again" - and I finally get back, take one last delivery. This one got on site far before the predicted time, so the tip wasn't too bad. Get back to the store, and the assistant manager who I've been working with has me stay until 5:15. Store manager says I can go at 5:00. So I get my eleven dollars worth of mileage and my three bucks worth of bet cash from him, and get the hell outta Dodge while the getting's good.
And, of course, the perfect end to the perfect day - as I'm on my way home, my mortal enemy, the gas light, comes on in my car.
I'm so very glad I have tomorrow off.