This is my first official story, It is going to contain a ton of kinks and fun and I plan on having several chapters. I apologize for any grammar or spelling issues, I hope you all enjoy and I would love any feedback.
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Someone Once said, "An Idle mind is the Devil's playground"
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In the beginning, Delivery Driving was a dream come true.
I would jam out to some of my favorite songs, throw on a conspiracy podcast or even call a friend and talk on the phone; spending hours running around the Metropolis in my trusty civic. I tried to be professional and sweet, updating my customers at every step of the delivery, However, I quickly found out the fake cheery attitude did almost nothing to increase the tips and I turned back to my more natural silent disposition.
It was a relief, I could drop the faΓ§ade and just be the silent delivery girl who leaves food on the door step and vanishes from sight. Shortly after I found my groove, the world began to shut down and the lock-down spiked deliveries and I began to thrive. As the other aspects of my life were crumbling around me, I had one area where I was could be me and get paid decently doing so
The Corporate Overlords slashed delivery fees to pull in more large orders, and I used my newfound finances to move into an apartment away from the fractured remains of my family. I slowly built a life for myself around the long shifts of driving required to make it each month. After a year things began slowly returning to normal, all while the driver pool slowly increased with "Hustlers" and I realized I needed to adapt to make money, or I would be out on the street.
I found working overnight led to some decent tips and repeat customers, matching that with a part-time job at the local gas station I was just scraping by. I didn't need anything fancy, I just to scrape by.
Saturday, 9 pm
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"Jesus Christ, Lex, pull your pants up." I hear Glenn grumble, followed by an exaggerated groan.
"Sorry Glenn, I forgot my belt today and I lost some weight. Beauty regiment and all that jazz" I chirp in response as I tug my sagging shorts up, the truth was I hadn't been eating all that much, but Glenn didn't need to know that nor did I want to admit it.
Glenn was the manager at the MacRonald's where I spend the first half of my night, it usually had a few stacked deliveries and would keep me busy until early morning where my clientele would change to stoners and drunks.
My Classic Nightly Routine
, and it was a routine because it worked. And I needed it to work.
The added bonus to this routine was Glenn. Glenn would give me occasional meals, water cups and usually a good conversation about one of his odd hobbies or a conspiracy rabbit hole he went down during his break. It is safe to say that my friendship with Glenn is my only non-online friendship I have.
I flashed him a warm smile as I finished filling a "water" cup with root beer, tugging up my shorts once again. The near silent lobby is disrupted as my phone began to ping as an order rolled. The ping sending a small feeling of relief through my small body, "Looks like my night is Starting, Hopefully y'all don't get any shit customers."
Glenn snorts in agreement, sharing the sentiment as he hands me a bag and waves me off. "Same to you, Kid."
Thus, my night began.
A Chaotic dance of late night orders and silent drop-offs. Bouncing back and forth between convenience stores and drive-throughs for snacks and cigarettes.
After several hours of running around, I slid into a gas station parking lot. The orders had stopped around 11 and based on past nights, I would be here for almost an hour before the stoners started ordering their munchies.