i arrived at work a few minutes after six this evening, tired and sick (yes, i’m sick, again).  i went to the waistation where i punched in, put my jacket in the cabinet and my keys in the drawer, and looked for the section sheet so i could see which tables were mine.  i found it tacked to the wall where it usually is, but my name wasn’t on it.  “wait,” i said to no one in particular, “am i supposed to work today?”  the week’s schedule was tacked up near the station sheet, and i looked carefully at it, seeing that i was indeed supposed to work.
max, the manager, walked in just then.  “hey, alison,” he said, “what are you doing here?”
“i’m supposed to work today!” i said, still looking at the schedule.
“are you sure?” he said, coming over to see.  “i’ve got seven people on the floor tonight not counting you.”
“yes, look, it says i’m in section E.”
“oh.  you are.  well, that means i put too many people on tonight.  want to go home?”
“yes!” i said.  “i feel like crap!”
“really?” paul said as he came in and leaned on the counter.  “sure you don’t want to work and let me leave?”
“sorry,” i said, jacket and keys already in hand.
“want to work for me?” max said.  he laughed.  “kidding.”
i laughed, too.  “max, i’m not sure i’m qualified to be the manager.”
“of course you are,” he said.  “why wouldn’t you be?”
“i may have all the smiles,” i said, as i punched out and headed for the door, “but i don’t have all the answers.”

god, how i wish i did.