I am usually prepared for long shifts at work, but sometimes my mind, body, and soul are simultaneously pleading for rest the moment I walk in the building.
10:57pm on a Saturday;
3 minutes before the front doors are locked, and your easy breezy behind is expected to begin bringing your 2 hour long conversation to a close.
3 minutes before your chances of securing a dessert are done for the day; as you have already been warned.
Now, 2 minutes before your replacement dish can no longer be created.
2 minutes before that margarita machine is flicked off, and your “Hennything is possible” dreams come to an abrupt halt.
And then finally, as if fashionably late even though it’s right on schedule – closing time.
I pity those that don’t pay heed to the phrase, “You ain’t gotta go home, but you gotta get the hell up outta here.”
It’s time for you to get out now. I am tired, and this working adult has to be back early in the morning.
Woe is us that time has struck on the head with “responsibilities” and bills enclosed in envelopes with bold red writing on the front.