At The Bossman’s shop we have nine limousines including the party bus, and six drivers. Two of the chauffeurs are part-time, the others have other jobs or businesses.
It’s a smart way to run given that weekends see the most limousine jobs, when everyone can work, and weekdays are generally airport transfers and other town-car work. We’re all flexible enough that Harry can almost always crew the jobs. Almost always.
Sundays everyone is exhausted after late Friday and Saturday nights, or early starts during the week. So when The Boss called me Sunday afternoon, it wasn’t with good news. He was looking for volunteers for a pick-up, transport to a concert in St Petersburg, wait, and return. A good trip, normally, with nice customers.
Good, that is, if I wasn’t operating on ten hours sleep in the previous forty-eight.
It’s a Catch-22. If we don’t do the last-minute jobs when he asks, The Boss will hire more drivers, which means everyone earns less money. If we do the jobs, he will continue to expect us to do them, exhausted or not.
I did the job. It went without a hitch. And this sunset was my reward. Thank you St Pete.
I slept all day Tuesday.