I was out and about over lunch; I needed to make a deposit at the credit union, get some gas in my truck, and pay off the expired fees on my tag [oops, you moron!]. While I was contemplating where I’d do the second item on the list, it occurred to me: I should go to the old Shell station where I used to work. Fitting, no?
Well, my old assistant manager got the managership about two years ago. Sure enough, Jon was working today. He remembers my face [but not my name], and he asked how things were. I told him that I’d finished up and started working. “Congratulations,” he said with a smile on his lips but a note of regret in his eyes. I’ll admit it–part of me feels a little better because of that, even as I realize just how … wrong … that was to do.
You see, in a job like that, you’ve made a choice. But, to be honest, I’m pretty sure Jon’s happy with his choice. He has a very low-responsibility job. Some people just don’t want the responsibility. I can understand that.
The only reason I think Jon’s okay with his choice? As he always says when someone asks him how he is, “Every day is a good day.” Indeed. To this day, I’ve kept a Shell keychain near my work keys, just to remind me that I can always go back.