I had two semesters to go and for some reason all these thoughts about my student debt started to invade my mind during the day and even during the night. Summer break was coming up and I felt an urgency to finally get a job and lessen my future financial burden a bit. Not that I could put a significant dent into that sum over just one summer anyway but I guess it's the thought that counts. Right? No?
Living in a sizable city I saw all those opportunities just waiting for me to snatch them up and earn myself a quick dollar. Yeah, it didn't take long for my awakening to rinse my brain clean from these pipedreams. I was rejected at a bank, at the library, at the hardware store, at the pet shop, at the gas station and on the factory assembly line. Just to name a few. Spare me the torture of putting these in order.
One evening, after walking through town forever in search of just ANY way to earn some money, I was approaching my dorm again when a sign caught my eye. "You've always wanted to deliver pizza for a living? Give us a call!" It was this little pizza place on the corner which exactly matched the reputation it had in this neighborhood. Not a great one. One of these one-man-shows who called themselves "us" while talking business. Let's say that I was contemplating if the guy who wrote the sign actually meant those words without any intention of humor.
I felt some disgust as I was walking past that pizza place and anger began to rise in me about the stupidity of some of the business owners in this town. But then my step slowed down and finally stopped. I felt like I was controlled by some foreign force when I turned around and swiftly walked toward that sign again. I called the number and I don't remember exactly what I talked with the owner about. I just had lots of red numbers and dollar signs in front of my eyes. Fear is a powerful motivator.
Don't pat yourself on the back too much for guessing that I got the job. Even after so many prior rejections I was not sure if I should be happy about it. Bernard, the owner, was not exactly the person who you'd imagine having a great time hanging out with. He was rather old, at least to me. He quickly succeeded in giving me the feeling that he just sees me as a work robot who happens to eat and shit on a regular basis. Robots of course don't need to sleep. Also, the one time I bought a pizza from him - You didn't think I'd get one for free, did you? - I immediately started feeling pity for the people who wanted to give this place a try. Let's not even talk about the pay or I might go insane wondering if I'm actually more stupid than Bernard for taking the job.
So right about now you might wonder why I would call delivering pizza the best job ever, right? Well, it was a Wednesday, about 11 a.m. As always Benard yelled out to me like I was two miles away even though I was sitting in the eating area and he was in the kitchen. Maybe he assumed that my hearing is as bad as his. He gave me the pizza, he gave me the address and a few seconds later I was on my bike going to the other side of town. Haha, don't tell me you thought that I had one of those little pizza cars to ride in. Did you read the last paragraphs? :)
It didn't happen very often that I had to cross the whole town to deliver the goods. It didn't help either that it was summer and the sun showed me no mercy during the ride. At some point I was questioning if we even officially delivered pizza to a part of town that is so far away.
I didn't really check the time but I swear it felt like I was driving for an hour before I arrived. I didn't even feel bad. Pizza of this quality couldn't get much worse even if you ate it two days later.
I located the building I was supposed to bring the pizza to. It looked like an old apartment building and was located in a neighborhood that you would expect to see in one of those zombie movies. It looked just dead.
So I entered the building and quickly realized that it sure wasn't a bunch of normal apartments. It was some kind of business as the entrance area and the receptionist lady would suggest. I approached her and didn't even bother to tell her who I am or what I want. The enthusiasm about my work and the experiences I had with it so far weren't really overwhelming in any positive way, I'm sure you understand.
"One pepperoni pizza. Medium" were the only words that came out of me followed by silence and an absolute confidence that every other word was redundant.
The receptionist lady seemed to be a little stumped. She gave me this puzzled look and made me wonder if this was one of these prank orders where I almost kill myself bringing the pizza on time just to realize that someone thought they were funny.
"Nobody here ordered a medium pepperoni?" I asked. Maybe I should have been angry but at this point there was just resignation in my voice.
"How old are you, darling?" asked the receptionist lady with a voice that surely must have been deepened over the years through steady consumption of cigarettes but which also had an unexpected warmth in it as well as some kind of motherly concern.
It's like I wanted to tell my mom that I was old ENOUGH when I puffed out my chest, lifted my chin and let out a confident "Twenty!", like I wanted to challenge her or something. Let me take the chance and laugh at the ego I had that day.
She kind of sighed and said: "Third floor, room 309". Then she pushed a button that was probably below the counter and a small buzzing sound came from the direction of the door, after which the door opened. Apparently it led to "the rooms" of the house.
By now the building was more than just a bit suspicious to me. I had the feeling that something shady was going on here. As I climbed the stairs to the third floor I noticed that every floor's entrance had a door of its own. So you didn't really see "the rooms" on that floor if you didn't open the floor entrance door.
I arrived on the third floor with the cold pizza in my hand and opened the floor entrance door. I went down the hallway, which happened to be empty and quiet, studying the room numbers. There were quite a lot of rooms there. Most of them were closed. Some had their doors open a few inches. That was also the case with room 309.
Even though the door was technically open I thought that knocking would still be the polite thing to do. I waited maybe ten seconds but nobody answered the door. I knocked again and the result didn't change. I wanted to get rid of the pizza and go back. After all I had about an hour or so of a ride still before me. So I just swung the door open and stepped into the room.
It kind of looked like an old hotel room. At least the furniture seemed pretty old. But there was this distinct atmosphere to it. Soon the observation crept into my consciousness that there was a lot of red and pink color in the room and that the dominating piece of furniture was a large king size bed in the middle of the room.
I don't know if something inside my mind was subconsciously not allowing me to admit that I knew what was going on inside those walls but that was only the case for those few seconds in which my eyes absorbed what was directly in front of me after I stepped into the room.
Once I looked to the right I almost dropped the pizza. There was an open doorway to another room. It was a bathroom. The door of the bathroom was wide open. The bathroom was rather small. There was a small sink and a toilet. But what made my knees a little weak was the realization that there was a woman sitting on the toilet.
She didn't notice me and I soon knew why. She had headphones on. She probably listened to some music and didn't even hear me knocking. In her left hand she had a phone which she was swiping on from time to time. In her right hand she had a cigarette. The most unordinary thing though - maybe not for this place though - was that she was completely naked. She sat naked on that toilet, hunched over with her legs spread rather wide, staring into her phone.
I felt cold sweat emerging from all of my body's pores at the same time. It's weird how this sensation can materialize in a split second. I won't lie though, there was also some immediate sexual tension building inside me, without a doubt. I'm sure my mouth was open and my hands started shaking a bit.
Then, all of a sudden, she looked up and noticed me. She looked at me like she witnessed something that shouldn't be possible. Her face didn't leave a doubt she was not in her thirties any more even though it was also obvious that she took care of her appearance. The puzzled look she gave me seemed to exaggerate a few wrinkles for about five seconds. Then she almost gave me a heart attack as she burst into violent loud laughter.
She must have noticed that she gave me a scare and she began to quickly apologize.
"I'm sorry, darling! Didn't mean to scare you!" she said in a tone clearly meant to calm me down.
