If you skip another shift you'll lose your job...

A text from Jeremy jumps out at you from the flood of notifications.

REMEMBER YOUR COVERING CLOSING SHIFT FOR ROB! DONT FORGET!!

You can practically hear his obnoxious voice coming through in the poor grammar, the all-capital letters, and the pointless redundancy. Jeremy is the dropout who manages the sandwich shop where you work part time. An exasperated groan pushes through your clenched teeth. Right. Today is the 11th. FUCK.

Last week you had switched shifts with your coworker Rob so you could check out an indie band that had miraculously been playing in your crummy town. You had completely spaced that the shift you'd taken from him was today. Ordinarily, you would blow off work to go take care of any of the dozen other things that were demanding your attention, but Jeremy had threatened to get you fired if you missed one more shift. You were using your meager wages from slinging meatball subs to save up for a post-graduation road trip with your friends.

If I have to deal with finding a new job, assuming I can find one at all, there's no way in hell I can save up enough for that trip by summer.

Feeling utterly dejected, you hop on a crosstown bus and pop in some earbuds, trying to drown your sorrows in music. After each stop, the bus gets a little more crowded, and soon you have to scoot over so a man in a Teamsters jacket can sit next to you. Staring out the window at the bleak urban landscape, you do your best to ignore him. Unfortunately, he seems eager to get your attention.

Despite your obvious disinterest, he starts to tap on your shoulder. After the third time you pull out your earbud and give him your best glare. "What the fuck do you want?"

His eyes go wide and he leans back, his mouth turning into an O beneath his bushy mustache. "Aw hell, missy, I was just trying to have a nice chat with the pretty girl on the bus! I didn't mean to offend you!" He leans back in and puts an arm around your shoulder. "Now why don't we start over. I'm Don."

"And I am done with this conversation." You yank the cord to signal for a stop and shove past him toward the door.

As you hop off the bus you hear Don call out, "So much for being nice, you little bitch!"

Walking the rest of the way to work, you can't shake the feeling of disgust that old creep gave you. The way he so casually put his arm around you, the way he acted offended when you called him out for harassing you when you clearly weren't interested in talking. Your skin crawls, and for some reason you can't seem to stop your heart from pounding.

What the fuck was his problem, anyway? Being nice, my ass.

The sandwich shop you work at isn't in the nicest part of town, to put it bluntly. The strip mall it's in is also home to a liquor store, a pawn shop, a Dollar General, and an empty unit that's been boarded up for as long as you've worked there. You're glad it's still daylight as you approach, and you hope you can get a friend to pick you up after work. The buses out here get even sketchier at night, and your shop doesn't close until 10pm on Fridays.

The electronic bell on the door makes its annoying two-tone chirp as you enter. Things are quiet now, with one customer finishing up their meal and nobody needing service at the counter. Having to walk the last eight blocks made you late, so you hustle back to the employee bathroom to change. Hopefully Jeremy isn't here today, and whoever had lunch shift won't rat you out.

As you reach the bathroom door, you nearly yelp in surprise as your coworker Lacey comes out of it. "Oh, hey, RC, thank goodness you're here. I need to go, my kid's daycare has been blowing up my phone." Lacey is a short blonde woman in her mid-20s, who somehow manages to juggle being a single mom with working this job and going to night school. While you weren't exactly friends, as you had practically nothing in common, she's always been nice to you.

"Uh, yeah, sure, Lacey. That's cool. Just give me a sec to get changed first?" You take her hurried nod as agreement and close the bathroom door behind you. She seemed awfully frazzled for some reason, but you suppose that's just par for the course when you have to raise a kid by yourself. Just one more reason I'm never gonna have one.

You pull your orange work polo out of your backpack and swap out your hoodie and t-shirt for it. The cheap cotton blend already starts to itch, and looking down you notice it still has several grease stains from your last shift. Right, forgot to throw it in the wash. Oops. Heaving a heavy sigh, you pull on the visor emblazoned with the shop's logo, and grimace at your image in the dirty bathroom mirror. One of the things you hate most about this job is how the uniform makes you look like a total dork. Time to go be a good worker bee.

As you walk back out to the counter you see Lacey clocking out at the register. "Thanks again, RC. By the way, I wasn't able to get any of the post-lunch cleanup done. Sorry, I just... the customers have been really weird today."

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. "Whaddya mean, weird? They're customers, they're always weird."

Lacey pauses on her way out the door and gives you a worried look. "I... well... you'll see. I mean, hopefully you won't, but..." Her voice trails off, and before you can say anything else she's gone, that stupid doorbell signaling her exit.

You take a peek into the prep area and your heart drops to your feet. Lacey wasn't kidding. Used ingredient containers and bread pans are piled up in the sink, and the task list hanging on the wall has distressingly few items checked off. You were already dreading a long closing shift with your feet sore from your impromptu walk. Now it looks like you'll be juggling extra backroom chores on top of dealing with the evening rush.

The doorbell chirps again behind you. Time to get back on the line. You have a long evening ahead of you.