It was bound to happen. It happened just how I foresaw it. We, The Buddha Baker and I, were slammed with customers around 5:30 a.m. The next guy in the drive-through line ordered two cinnamon-raisin bagels, toasted with plain cream cheese. I said to The Buddha Baker, "I got this order," but as I slide the first bagel into the bagel cutter my mind wandered. I was thinking about the mop-job that I still needed to get done before 6 a.m. I was thinking about the buttons I still needed to type into the cash register. I was pondering why we had so many customers, so early on a Saturday? Doesn't anyone sleep in on Saturdays? For the love of hockey why aren't people passed out from too many Canadian whiskey shots and Molsons?
At 5:31 a.m. the shark-blade butcher knife slammed into my left thumb. I let out a sharp, "God damn it." I looked down and the pain matched the scene. Red. Red. Red. "I'm cut. Take over," I said to The Buddha Baker as I scrambled for the bathroom. Of course, we had no band aides. I washed it out with soap and water and glided for the last half hour.
On the ride home, I was itching my head because my head tends to get itchy after wearing a hairnet for 8 hours. What I discovered were three lumps. I remembered that I had slammed my head into a piece of metal attached to the food station earlier in the night. Either I had my worst shift at Tim's last night, or I need to start looking for another source of income.