Don’t Take it for Granted: In Which I Make a Bad Decision for Good Reasons

Work is important. The bills need to be paid, food needs to be bought, the lights have to stay on. I worked on Saturday at the restaurant where I hand people food and the countless other menial tasks that they’ve hired me to do. I like my job, regardless of its lack of importance in the universal sense. I like the people I work with, and the smell of the disinfectant we use on the tables, and the way that it forces me to be in a good mood when I otherwise might not want to be. Working, especially in a restaurant, makes me feel somewhat in important in the smallest possible way. People are fed at our restaurant, and while we only serve people who can afford to pay for the food we offer (which makes me feel a bit gross), it still makes me happy to hand people their food and say, “Enjoy.”

My mom turned sixty on Saturday. My sister-in-law planned a whole event for the day. She mobilized our extended relatives to send in videos of them saying happy birthday to her, and reserved a table at the local Italian restaurant where for the past fifteen years our family has been eating at almost once a week, though in recent years we’ve limited it to when we’re able to get together. The owner of the restaurant knows us personally. His brother has done work on our house and my dad has taken care of his family in office for years. His name is Victor. He’s a short man from Argentina, with eyes that are brown and focused and when he’s not there his absence is palpable. For my mom’s birthday he made a cake that she loves in a size that they don’t usually make it in. I didn’t know about any of this until Saturday, when I was added to the family group chat.

Getting somebody to cover your shift at work can be hard. Getting coverage on the day you’re supposed to work is harder. Getting coverage on the day of your shift when you’re the only person left in your department is basically impossible. I showed for my shift, and I did the work I enjoy doing. But “putting things off is the biggest waste of life: it snatches away each day as it comes, and denies us the present by promising the future,” said Seneca, and as the time at my restaurant went by I realized I wasn’t going to rely on the future for moments with my family and that only in this present moment would we celebrate my mom’s birthday in the way we were. I had a more important place to be. So I told a coworker my situation, he promised to cover what he could of what was left of my shift, and I left without telling anybody else. I spent the rest of my night with my family, celebrating and eating together.

I’ll deal with the consequences later.

-Tim Caston