You see, today was an extremely slow day.
I was scheduled to work the opening shift, which is usually pretty busy and produces pretty decent tips. My employee asked to switch so she could make a dr appointment more easily. I agreed, thinking nothing of it.
This is a week when I really need my tips. I don't get enough hours at work, and to be able to do all the things I need to do, I need to be able to use the tips I generally make.
It has turned out that this week, I have missed all the big days (and in turn gotten these painfully slow ones.) Of course, this would figure, the one week where I actually need tips to cover costs for a trip I'm going on this weekend and a wedding I agreed to shoot before I knew it was 4 hours away that is next week. I'm trying not to worry about it, but there isn't much hope on the surface.
I've already had an oddly rough week. It's not that anything is wrong, per se, I just feel numb. Like my head isn't here. I don't really know how to explain it farther than that. My head feels like that of a mannequin.
With 30 minutes left to my shift, I had a whopping $1.73 in my tips jar. Even that wasn't from anything I made, since no one ordered a single latte. The guy felt bad for me. (Thank you, random sir.)
I decided that instead of looking at it in a negative way, I should just be grateful.
Super cliche, but it really seemed to click.
I should be grateful that I have a job I like. That I have $1.73 more than I did before going into work. That I have employees I can trust. That I have a boss who trusts me.
As I was closing up, the owner of the hotel's son came up to me, all perky and youthful as usual, asking if I needed my trash taken out.
See, we have a deal where if he takes out my trash, he can have a milkshake.
Except that I already had everything cleaned.
I told him that, he bargained and asked, "what about just a scoop?"
"Will you clean the scoop afterwards?"
"Yes!"
"Okay, then. You have a deal!"
He really is a cute kid, and I really don't like taking out the trash. This felt like a fair trade.
I got it ready for him, scooped his ice cream, and he held up his end of the deal.
As I counted the drawer, he returned from his journey to the land of the dumpster.
"I'm really fast, aren't I?"
"You're lightning fast!!"
Then he looked at my tip jar.
(Last time, he bargained a dollar out of me for helping.)
"Do you get to keep all of that?"
"Yep, sure do! Although we were slow today, so there's not much in there."
"But you get to keep it all?"
"Sure do!"
Right then, he put a dollar in it and said,
"There! There's your tip!"
now I had two dollar bills in there.
The kid who everyone knows as the one always trying to make you a deal to get something out of you--and he is quite the negotiator--was leaving me a tip.
He came back around a little later.
"Do you want a snickers bar?"
He had them in one of those fundraising boxes.
"How much is it, a dollar?"
"No! Do you want one?"
"Sure, I'll take one"
"That'll be a dollar!"
"Ah, I knew it!" I hand him a dollar, he hands me a full-size snickers bar.
"What are you fundraising for?"
"For my savings account!"
At that moment he slaps the dollar back on the table and says,
"There! There's your tip! Bye!"
At that moment, my eyes teared up.
A technical two dollar tip from the most unlikely and unexpected of places.
Who am I to question whether or not I'll be taken care of?
When, clearly and often, the Lord has reminded me that He will.
And He will.
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