Prompt: Write about the life of a bus driver
4:30 am. I don’t know why I always feel so inclined to look presentable for work; there isn’t really a change for promotion, or advancement. My tie isn’t going to impress some big wig CEO and score me a promotion. Guess it just goes back to what my grandpa used to say. So as a step out of the shower to the sound of my timer ringing for 5:15 on the nose, I check my reflection and repeat once again, “Clothes make the man.”
Shaved, showered and shined, coffee imbibed: breakfast consumed, I start my daily grind. This life ain’t glamorous, but I don’t mind the noise. Besides, it pays the bills. 6:00 am I start my first run, and by 8 I’m done. All over town, visiting the same destination five or six times in a day. But then I’m done. I get to spend the rest of my day at the office, really just killing time with my co-workers. James, he’s the one I like the most. We call him Ol’ Jim: man’s got to be rounding 70, and me? I’m only 28. Jim used to be a boxer: won the golden gloves back in the ‘60’s when he was younger than I am now. Talk about feeling unaccomplished, but in this economy, anything to pay the dept. He says he used to work as a handyman. Always compliments the way I dress. Guess I remind him of the good old days.
By 1:30 pm we’re back on the grind. This job is delicate. Have to be right on time. No mistakes, no excuses. Pull the same route as I did in the AM, and then home for the evening. But hell, I’m only 28, evening is a foreign term. So I head down the road to the Lone Wolf. Tim is always there, picking up chicks. I don’t know how the man does it, but he’s got more game than me. Lone Wolf is a good name for this bar. Everyone comes here alone, but you don’t always leave alone. And there is always the chance of finding…