The following day as an assistant driver passed without any remarkable incidents. Delivering goods to various stores in the city was nothing special.
But the last day of work was something special. I had to deliver ‘restaurant supplies.’ I went to work clueless because I had no idea what the term ‘restaurant supplies’ meant.
When I saw what was being loaded onto the truck, I had a bad feeling: one pub was getting 50 kilos of pasta, 30 kilos of which were vermicelli and 20 kilos of star-shaped pasta.
The next pub also got 50 kilos of pasta, but only vermicelli. The situation was similar for canned goods, sugar, salt, and tea. When it came to spices, no one could see their way through. When unloading, the delivery bills had to be constantly compared with the order lists.
To make matters worse, everything was in the old town, where deliveries to the pubs are made in narrow medieval courtyards, most of which are still blocked with all kinds of empties. After I delivered to the first two pubs, it was impossible to tell if anything was missing from the haul at all. But I was lucky.
In the next courtyard, I supplied three pubs at once and got rid of all the remaining goods, albeit with sweaty maneuvering in the tightest of spaces. After the work was done, I was driving at walking pace toward the low exit when I heard a crash.
The truck had hit the archway with its body. I hadn’t considered that the truck had lifted a few inches out of its spring bed after unloading. Not much had happened. The body had just shifted back a little. But how to get out of the yard without completely demolishing the body?
I needed cargo. So I went out into the street and convinced a handful of young people to get on the truck, after which the exit was smooth. The fleet manager grinned when he saw the battered car and said, ‘You’re not the first person this has happened to, we’ll fix it.
You’re still welcome to come back when you have time.’ I had no idea at the time how important this offer would be for me.
The week as a driver was exhausting, but I had earned good money and gained a lot of experience. But now I just wanted to get home to my family as quickly as possible. It was pouring when I reached the arterial road with the Trabant. A lonely man was standing at a bus stop. I stopped and gave him a ride.
During the ride, he told me that he had two sons my age who ran a motorcycle repair shop. If I had any problems with my car, he said, I could stop by. This was music to my ears, as the Trabant was starting to get on in years. I assured my passenger that I would be happy to return the offer.
As usual, Marga did not expect me until Saturday. She knew nothing about the study break. As always, she had everything under control. Andi had already grown a bit, at least that’s how it seemed to me. It was a nice evening. 𝓣𝓸 𝓑𝓮 𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓾𝓮𝓭…
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