I've been delivering pizza on the side for a full year now. In fact, Friday was my official anniversary. There were no parades. There was no fanfare. Just a typical Friday night.
It had been a long day at the bank, as days at the bank tend to be. After roughly 10 hours there, I spent close to three moving pizza around Wake Forest. It should have only been two hours of pizza, but somehow I got stuck with a far away delivery at 8:55. And when I got back to the store, I still had to finish my assigned duties. So yeah, I didn't get home 'til after 10. I was tired. And since I hadn't eaten anything since about 12:30 that afternoon, I was really hungry.
But it was all worth it. Because Saturday night, my manager gave me a new shirt. I know, what's so freakin' special about a new shirt? Well, for starters, I've been wearing the other one non-stop for a year. It's about time I wash it, right? I kid, I wash that one regularly. No, the new shirt has my name embroidered on it.
I'd noticed that a lot of the other employees had their names on their shirts. But I'd never asked where they got that done or if I could get it done to my original shirt. I guess I just had to hold out for a year until they deemed me worthy of having a shirt with my name on it.
It was just like the day I got my business cards at the bank. I looked at my name on that shirt and couldn't help but think, Hey, I'm somebody now!
Now, the question is, should I feel bad for planning to quit this job just as soon as I find a replacement for my career in banking? Because I kind of do. Here I have this new shirt, showing that the company has made some kind of investment in me, and the minute I find a full-time job that pays more than $5.00 an hour, I'm gonna quit both of these jobs. Maybe I shouldn't feel bad. A shirt represents an investment of, what, ten bucks?
And the $5.00 an hour thing was an exaggeration. I'm gonna need at least $10.