Clyde stared into the bottom of his glass. A waitress approached him.
“What’s wrong honey?” she asked.
“I hate my job.” he replied.
“I hear you there hon.” the waitress said picking up his empty glass. “Boss got you down?”
“More like my wife.” Clyde said dejectedly. “I haven’t been to work in weeks and money’s getting tighter. My wife says she’ll leave with the kids if I don’t go back.”
“Then go.” the waitress said wiping off a table. “Where do you work?”
“All over the city, where ever deliveries are made.” he answered. “Worst part is the hours. I hate working nights, but it’s the best i could get.”
“Bet your dodging work to drink yourself stupid here, huh?” she said.
Clyde just nodded.
“You know fella, you have a responsibility to your family. They depend on you.” she stated.
Clyde rose to his feet and said “I know, and you’re right. Thank you Miss.” He then reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun. Firing into the air, he demanded all the alcohol delivered to the bar. It felt good to be working again.