Even the Moon Mocks Me

Shadow Mockery

     After I had cut our costs of goods everywhere I could, I had to lay off some employees and cut hours on the others.  Things were bad enough when problems with corporate arose, compounding our troubles.  Our soup order was late, considerably late.  Corporate was unaware until I informed them.  Since it was past the allowable amount of time in our contract, the person handling the orders was understandably excited.  She snapped that she would find out what happened and get back with me.

     Somehow the soup was on a truck with the longest possible route to our store in Colorado and wouldn't arrive for another 4 - 5 days.  We could possibly be out of soup by then.  She promised to have a few cases sent overnight to help tide us over but that never materialized.  By the time the soup arrived, we were almost depleted and daily offerings were not as varied as they normally were.

       The next order was also late.  When I called corporate, the response was one of indifference.  Again, she would get back with me after finding out what happened to the order.  When I received her call, I was told, "You're not going to believe this!",  which is usually followed by an incredible story.  And it was.  She informed me that the driver that was delivering our soup--retired.  Silence. Did she just say the driver "retired"?  So after the soup was loaded on a truck in New Jersey, somewhere between New Jersey and Colorado, the driver pulled over somewhere and retired?  She was right, I didn't believe it.

     Do I bluntly call her a liar?  Do I feign a British accent with a tinge of sarcasm and say, " A likely story"?  No, I said nothing.  I think gobsmacked is the word--much better than flabbergasted since I had just been smacked with a gob of b.s.  She quickly broke the silence saying that the order would arrive soon and hung up.

     The more I thought about what has just occurred, the funnier it became.  Seriously, he retired.  When the soup finally arrived, the driver was the same driver that had delivered our last order.

     I was alone in the restaurant, when two college aged girls walked in, ordered some soup and proceeded to take it outside to eat on the patio.  They were talking and eating when the downtown local poet approached them.  He's a fixture downtown, walking the streets soliciting his work in the business district, wearing a suit and tie, and carrying a briefcase with copies of his stories and poems.  Most people pick up speed and try to avoid him but the girls were his captive audience.

     Immediately, one of the girls ignored him as if he wasn't there.  He turned toward the other girl and continued his spiel.   The girl who had ignored him and now sitting behind him, looked at her friend, raised her hand to the side of her head and twirled her index finger, making the crazy sign.

     As an uncontrollable grin flashed across my face, I thought,  This is what my life has become -- crazy.  My reality show is a mash up of  Fawlty Towers and The Sopranos -- a comedy and a tragedy.  Maybe, I should write a book; I started keeping a journal to record everything that was happening on a daily basis.  As memorable as these events were, there were so many and I didn't want to lose any of it.  So every day after the lunch rush, when I was alone, I would record the events of the day in a notebook--it helped me focus on the absurdity of the situation and reprieved my mind from the fear of what was ahead.
                                             
                                                                                                        to be continued....