“Have a nice day, ma’am.”
“Why, thank you, young gentleman!”
I sigh as I stare at my watch. 3:59. My shift is just about over. I take my apron off and I head to the locker room behind the deli counter. Though working the counter job at a deli is hard work, it’s worth it if I get to call anything my own.
As I finish getting my things together, my boss, Jeff, walks up to me.
“I’m impressed, Daniel,” my boss begins, “Most of the teens who take shifts here expect easy pay. You, though, you work hard.”
“It’s, well, it’s nothing,” I say, trying hard not to smile, “I just don’t want to half-ass anything.”
“Well that’s a good thing to hear!” Jeff says with a laugh, “We don’t want you to be undeserving of your new raise, am I right?”
“That’s true, but…wait,” I reply, just beginning to process what he said, “Are you saying that I’m getting a raise?”
“I’m glad you caught on,” Jeff beams, “It’s a 25% increase, but this doesn’t mean you work any less. I expect you here on time Monday morning.”
“Thanks, Jeff. You won’t regret it.”
During my walk home, I wonder how to break this news to my father. You see, usually most of my paycheck usually goes towards him, because of what he calls the “sheltering fee”. I could honestly care less, since the main reason why I took the deli job was to spend more time away from him.
Getting a raise changes things, though. Will he be okay with it, if not proud, and keep the “fee” the same, or is he going to try to take more money away from me, money that I rightfully deserve. I contemplate this as I arrive at my door.
As I walk through the door, I am greeted by the unfortunately normal smell of smoke and booze. Sighing, I fumble through the fridge, looking to see if there’s anything to eat for a dinner. Sadly, there is not. I grab a pack of saltines and I head towards the living room.
I walk in on my dad watching preseason football. He is a short, fat man with a balding head and an untamed beard. It takes him a few minutes to notice me; when he finally does, he simply lets out a grunt and motions towards me to take a seat. Without a moment of hesitation, I nod and sit down.
“So,” my father begins, without so much of a glance, “How was work?”
“The usual,” I say, “Same old people, same old job, and…uh…”
This moment of uncertainty captures my dad’s full attention. He turns his gaze towards me and demands, “And what? Let it out, boy!”
“I got a raise!” I let out quickly, “I got a raise.”
“Ah,” my dad says menacingly, “How much was this ‘raise’ that you received.”
“25%...” I mumble.
At this, my father’s eyes light up. “25%, boy!? Hot damn, that’s my son! You do realize, though, that the fee also covers a percentage…”
“But, you can’t-”
“Can’t what, boy? I own you, remember?”
I look down. “Yes, sir,” I say, defeated.
“That’s better, but let’s not gets ourselves too down. Now is a time for celebration.” My dad takes out a 12-pack of beer with a mad grin, and offers one to me. “Let’s drink.”
