Don't Kick the Baby!

Before I commence bitching, I have a brief PSA:  Folks!  Next time you're hankering for shrimp, serve 'em with a mustard-caper mayo instead of cocktail sauce.  Trust me on this.

Moving on.

As I believe I've mentioned, I work two jobs.  By day, I try to keep the commas and decimal points straight.  At night.....I'm a Pizza Bitch.

I work for a national chain but since I actually LIKE working for them and don't want to get Dooce'd, I'll keep the deets to myself, okay?  Great.

I know, it's not the most glamourous job but it's (mostly) low stress, I get to drive around and listen to music all night, yay!  I like most of my coworkers and most of my customers are pretty cool as well.  Occasionally I even get to smile at Bendy Boys!  And , bonus!  Having a steady stream of cash every night, primarily in singles, allows me to masquerade as a stripper for comedic effect.  I'm pretty sure I have the cashier at our office cafeteria at least 75 percent convinced I spend my nights on the pole.  Heh.

(Side note?  Thanksgiving night, I stopped at a gas station.  I paid in singles and as I was doling them out, I made my usual joking comment about this being my "stripper money".  I then gave each of my kids a dollar for reasons I can not remember.  My eldest took the dollar, sniffed it and said, "Yeah, this must be stripper money, it smells like butt".  Oh dear)

So yeah.  Generally, I like being the Pizza Bitch.

But I was so far off my game tonight.  I got all topsy turvy turned around three times tonight, all three times in neighborhoods I was totally familiar with.  I gave one guy the wrong order and forgot someone else's soda.  But the worst moment of the night?  So totally wasn't my fault.

(A slight bit of backstory:  I am 42 years old, born in 1968.  A few weeks ago, my manager was looking at a 20 dollar bill and thinking it might be a fake.  The print date on the bill was 1960-something but it was still quite crisp and clean.  He said, "Nothing that came from the 60's can possibly be in good shape still".  So I kicked him)

Anyway.

So I had a delivery tonight, I got to the house, there was a collection of random small children, probably between the ages of 5 and 13.  The eldest asked how much the total was and I told her $19.69.  One of the younger children said, "1969?  That's the year the dinosaurs were born".

Thankfully for all involved, I did NOT kick the child.  I was tempted though.

Don't Kick the Baby!