Shift Story
Matthew Ryan Fischer
Al worked third shift at the Pump-N-Go. He was forty
three and had just started college. Again. Al had been rich and then poor and
then rich and then poor again. Right now he was still poor. But he had plans.
He wouldn’t be poor forever. He would be back on top again. He was back in
school. Again. This time he was going to finish. This time he was going to end
up with a degree that would make him valuable. He had had value in other ways
before, but never before in a resume, degree, job interview sort of way. This
time it would be different and the jobs would pay and the money would last and
his resources would grow. He had learned the secret that had long eluded him.
He had learned how to manage his money and how to save. That would be the
secret this time.
Amelie drank too much; she didn’t always, but she
always liked it when she did. She knew she couldn’t drive, so she walked. She
had many offers from many men at many different bars, but drunk or not, she
always knew better, so she walked. She didn’t mind. She was in good shape. She always
liked the night air. She drove too much during the day, so she was happy to
leave the car behind.
Amelie was fascinated by the books Al read, but
truth be told, she would have been fascinated by most anything in the state she
was in. Al didn’t mind drunken people. He had been drunk many many times
himself. He had lost a fortune once because he had been drunk. That was a real
good time. Not the losing money, but the two and a half week party that
surrounded the loss of the money. Al would read from the books and tell Amelie
about what he was learning. She would smile and nod and drink her coffee and
eat microwave burritos and slowly sober up. She didn’t really absorb or
remember much of what he told her, but she always could tell she enjoyed their
conversations.
One night Al was explaining to Amelie how he had
earned his second fortune and how he had lost it. He had just begun telling her
about how he used to flip houses when outside an inebriated man stumbled along
and crossed the parking lot. The man leaned over and vomited again and again.
Then he remained hunched over and just lingered. Al and Amelie watched him with
some curiosity. It had been a slow night and there hadn’t been many customers.
Usually someone stopped in to provide evening entertainment. Up until then, the
night had been quiet. But now, now there was something to do, something to talk
about, something to remember. Al sincerely hoped Amelie was sober enough at
this point that she too would remember it. Otherwise there would be little
value to the story if he couldn’t share a laugh with her later.
Outside the inebriated man stood up and took a step
to walk away. Al watched the man with a mixture of joy and annoyance. As ridiculous
and enjoyable as the story would be, Al was also the man that would have to
clean up that parking lot. Cleaning up vomit was more than a little annoying.
Suddenly the man outside swayed and stumbled and
tripped and fell. And landed right in the middle of his own vomit. Suddenly it
was all worth it.
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