Dave exited the highway per usual but consciously chose the left lane of the exit: I hope someone’s waiting here today. A man stood on the side of the road with a cardboard sign that read, ‘Homeless n hungry Anything helps God Bless!’ The man’s face told a less hopeful tale than his creased sign. His bright purple jacket was deceptively nice, brand new even: he probably got that from a church or a help center. Someone out there’s doing some good. Dave stopped at the light.

He reached down to the ashtray, filled with life clutter as opposed to cigarette refuse. He fiddled until he found the one-dollar bills he was looking for, stuck in a furled and folded wad after an unfortunate run through the wash. Dave peeled the bills apart, counting out four of them. His window slid down, a smooth electronic roll. He reached his arm out. The sad man walked up, looking Dave in the eye.

“Thank you. God bless you,” said the man. He sounded like someone trying to convince a stranger to forgive him, and in some ways, maybe he was. We don’t know the story: I don’t know who you are. I don’t know what you’ve gone through, but I do know that if I was in your shoes, I’d want people to treat me with kindness. I want people to treat me with kindness now, as I am. I wonder how much of what we both want we’re going to get.

“Don’t mention it. Keep on keepin’ on, friend,” said Dave as he gave the man the money and a smile. I wish I had more, but I’m not far from the bottom myself, friend. I’m not as noble as the widow in the temple. I’m just doin’ what I was told: ‘give to those who beg from you.’ I’m doing something I want to do.

The light turned green. Dave gave a thumbs up and another smile to the sad man as he drove off to the place he hated most. If that guy can do it, I can do it.

----------------------------------------

Dave went inside the store. His gait was gallant, flowing with confidence; he was ready to seize the world in his own two hands. He clocked in, tied his apron, and asked for directions.

“Hello! How are you today?” asked Riley.

“I’m great! Where do you need me, boss?”

“Umm, give me a second. Have you tried the new drink yet?”

“No. When did we get a new drink? And why so close to Christmas?”

“I don’t know. That’s above my pay grade.”

“Gee whiz. Corporate doesn’t make any sense at all sometimes. What’s it called?”

“Caramelized Butterscotch Steamer.”

“What does that even mean? It just sounds like sugar with more sugar.”

“Yeah, pretty much. It has seventy-nine grams of sugar in a medium.”

“Good Lord! How can anyone in their right stomach that? This is the strangest life I’ve ever known, man.”

“You’re telling me. Why don’t you take over at window. Send whoever’s over there home.”

“You got it, chief!”

He went over to the little hole, assigned a cash drawer, and kept the line moving. Forty-five customers exchanged pleasantries with him in his first half-hour. Three customers said absolutely nothing to the cheerful man with sustenance in hand.

Today, Dave wasn’t a warrior. He wasn’t slaying trolls. He was a guy that loved something, maybe his job or maybe just the air he was breathing. He was a man determined to share joy in a smile and a greeting. He was a brave child of Lir, searching for home, searching for answers, searching for their father through the Stream of the Long Hound. There is goodness. There is rightness. There is kindness. I am and will be a river of these things. I will not be dammed. Unfortunately, Children of Lir is not a happy tale.

“Hey! How are y’all?” cheered Dave to strangers like an old friend.

“We’re good! How are you?” they cheered back.

“I am living the dream, man!”

“In this cold?”

“Awe, it’s not so bad. They’ve got me working hard, so I’m almost sweating. The cold air is kind of nice. Did y’all get all of your Christmas shopping done?”

“No. We’re Jehovah’s Witnesses.”

“Oh. Cool.” Dave wasn’t sure what to say. Silence kind of took the stage for a second as he nodded his head at the man.

“Bah! I’m just kidding! Yeah, we’re still doing a few things last minute.”

“Gaha! That’s funny. You had me! Well, here’s your stuff. Good luck with the last of your gifts. It can get crazy out there!”

“You’re telling me! Merry Christmas!”

“Yeah, Merry Christmas and stuff! Have a good one!”

The conversation was not spectacular by any means; it was mundane but cheerful banter, a calm and forgettable essence of life. Those moments flew by; before he knew it, Dave had been working for two and a half hours.

“Go on your ten,” said Riley.

“Sweet!” replied Dave as he hustled off to the back.

“Sorry it’s late.”

“Not a problem, my man.”

When he got to the back office, Dave pulled his phone out habitually. There wasn’t anything he wanted to read or any game timer he needed to check; he was as used to staring at the little screen as he was to breathing.

He sent a text to his wife. ’I love you!” it said, then he put down the distraction box and took a deep breath. What kind of poem am I writing next? I’m still just not sure what I’m doing with myself… I’m not sure I have Odin’s gift or his excrement. Oh well, don’t think about it. Keep going. Chin up.

Time’s up: Dave went back out to the window and spoke to Riley.

“Where do you want me, boss?”

“Hi! You’re taking back over here,” she cheered back to him. “Good luck. I don’t know how you’re staying so upbeat today.”

“Awe man, it’s easy. You just have to try. Don’t let your dreams be dreams!”

“Alright. You’ve got it then!” she said smiling breathlessly.

Too bad I don’t have any dreams. Even if I did, I wouldn’t know where to start trying to grab them. It’s the task of a wizard and spellweaver to make dreams real; I’m just a dumb piece of the factory. I wouldn’t know what to say even if I could. Maybe, I should think more about listening, less about speaking. Maybe that’s essentially the difference between Odin’s Gift and his excrement, for Odin was wise, and the wise listen.

The day went on. The whole team labored together, heroes of the winter season facing down the endless horde of consumers. Eventually, someone would have to go home; Dave would find himself both taking orders and passing them out once more. This was everyone’s favorite position for him cover. It’s the only thing here I’m actually good at, he’d think to himself. And today, I’m going to be as useful as I can possibly be. For now, he was still just working the window.

“Hello! How are you?”

“I’m doing great! How are you?” asked a middle-aged woman. “I’m living the dream! It’ll be eleven-fifty.”

“Alright, keep the change.”

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“Thanks! We appreciate it. Gotta pay rent somehow.”

“You guys are busy today, aren’t you?”

“Yeah! Typical Saturday.”

“You mean it’s always like this?”

“Yep, pretty much! Of course, it’s especially busy because of the season, but it’s still not much different from any other Saturday in the year.”

“Wow,” said the woman, barely interested. She stared ahead, looking out to the road. Dave wondered for a second what she was thinking about, but his mind pulled to organizing her order.

“What’s that girl doing over there?” asked the woman.

Dave looked out the window to his left. At the corner of the store, he saw what looked like a college student. Her jeans were tattered in style and her hair was long and dark; that’s all Dave caught before she slipped back around the corner. She must be cold with those holes in her pants.

“I dunno. I imagine she’s trying to smoke over there, but that can’t be right; I don’t see any smoke.”

“She looks like she might be waiting for a ride. I think she’s waiting for someone in the drive-through to pick her up.”

“That makes sense. Here you go, ma’am. You all have a wonderful day! Stay warm.”

“Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas and stuff!”

She pulled away. Another car started pulling up; Dave took a moment to notice the world outside the window. It was almost winter; everything was dead. The sky was a calm gray. To his left, a siren sounded in the streets. There was a lot going on today; Dave was still happy to be a part of it.

“Hey! How are you?”

“I’m good. How much did you say it was?” she asked.

“It is thirteen-sixty-two. Here’s your drink. Have you gotten all of your shopping done?”

“Mostly. We’re just covering odds and ends today.” “I hear you. You’re doing better than a lot of people.”

“Yeah, the key is to plan ahead.”

“Absolutely. And, I would also say to not stress about it. It’s supposed to be fun.”

“Oh yeah! It’s one of the best things in the world to see the kids’ faces light up on Christmas morning.”

“Man, I can’t wait for that,” said Dave. “Oh, here it is! Your second drink.”

“Thanks.”

“You all have a good evening. We’ll see you!”

“Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas and stuff!”

She handed two dollars to Dave. “Here, put that in your jar.”

“Oh! Thank you! We appreciate it.”

She pulled away. A minivan pulled up. Dave greeted the driver as cheerfully as ever.

“Hi! How are you?”

“I’m good. You?”

“I’m doing real well! It’ll be twenty-three-forty-five.”

She handed him her card. He put it in the chip reader, and she went back to looking at her phone. He stood there waiting for the transaction to process. I hate these things. Swiping was always so much faster. Oh well. Apparently this is safer.

“Oh my gosh!” said the driver of the minivan.

Dave turned around.

“She just stole your tip jar!”

“What?” said Dave like the coming out of busted bike tube. It was gone. She was gone, the girl with tattered jeans walking around the corner of the store. He wanted to chase her, but there was no one to chase. There was no reaction he could give that would make any sense other than to say, “Well…” it is what it is. Again, it was like a scene on stage, Dave watching powerlessly from the audience. The swans had returned to their home, the spell broke, and they felt the years upon them until they withered and scattered on the wind. This is the ending to Children of Lir, or at least, one way it is told.

“...maybe she needs it more than we did,” said Dave, trying to make his own ending to the tale. He didn’t believe what he said.

“There you go. That’s a positive way to look at it,” said the woman in the minivan.

Dave hopped on the headset. “Guys… someone just stole our tips.”

“What?” said Riley.

“Seriously?” said Tom.

“Yeah…” said Dave. And it was my fault. I wasn’t paying close enough attention.

“What do we do?” said Tom.

“There’s nothing we can do,” said Riley.

What we should do isn’t important. What we should have done is important. “I’m sorry guys…”

“It’s not your fault, Dave,” said Tom.

“Yeah… I guess you’re right,” he sighed in response. The day must go on. There’s nothing I can do about it. “Here’s your order, ma’am. You all have a Merry Christmas and stuff.”

“Thanks. Merry Christmas.”

The minivan rolled away. Another one replaced it. Dave went through the motions.

“Where’s your tip jar?”

“Hm? Oh, someone just stole it,” said Dave like a wet blanket.

“Oh gee, that sucks. Well, maybe they needed it more than y’all did.”

“Yeah, maybe she did.”

The driver put the money back in her wallet.

Dave sighed. She didn’t need it. There’s plenty of places to get things you need, especially around Christmas. She stole it for drugs. I shouldn’t think that way, but I know that’s what happened. She’s spending our tips on her high.

“Here you go. Have a good one.”

There’s no point in being so hateful.

“Hi! How are you?”

But, looking at it hopefully doesn’t help either.

“Yeah, someone stole it.”

I know I should forgive her; there’s nothing else I can do.

“Have a good one. We’ll see you.”

But, it still hurts to know someone got the better of me. My guard was down, and I cost everyone here a few bucks because of it. That sucks. This job sucks. I just want to go home.

“Hi! How are you doing?”

Suck it up. Drive on.

“Dave, you’re staying on the window. I want you to start taking orders; Jess is going home. Let me know if you need help, got it?”

“Yeah, absolutely!” To Hell with this…

Dave started answering customers at the box, punching in orders and passing them out once they arrived at the window. Time went on, lunch passed, and the sting of being robbed became numb. Everything became numb. Just keep going. Just get through the day. Tomorrow always has the chance of being better.

A smile of sorts stuck to Dave’s face, but it lacked the heroic charm it had earlier in the day. His voice lacked the warm and jovial timbre that had carried him thus far. Standing on the precipice of hope, he looked out unto the world and thought about jumping.

He was standing on the edge of the stage. He looked down and out into the audience; they were a lot farther away than a typical crowd. They were hard to see. They weren’t even there; everything was black. The red sign stared from the back of the theatre. No… Not yet. I can’t accept your invitation. Not yet, at least. I have to walk out one day; I’ll save that for last. If the playwright said to wait until Christmas, I have to respect the script. The sign twinkled as though it understood. A boo erupted from the audience as Dave turned his back on it.

The headset dinged. Dave snapped to and began taking the order.

“I need one caramel butterscotch.”

“Alright, what size?”

“Large.”

“Awesome! One large caramelized butterscotch steamer, what else for you?”

“No, I don’t want it iced. I want it hot.”

“Right. One large caramelized butterscotch steamer, can I get anything else for you?”

“I DON’T WANT IT ICED! I just want a caramel-butterscotch whatever!” she shouted, followed by an obscenity under her breath.

“Right. One large ‘caramliZZZed’ butterscotch,” said Dave with obnoxious exaggeration he felt sure would get the point across. He was done giving in on things.

“Whatever. It better not be iced.”

Dave’s finger lingered over the iced button. His face was twisted like a pretzel. If she thinks I’m an idiot, I may as well be an idiot. I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna be an idiot.

He sent the order through. Dave continued his pattern of ’hi, how are you?’s at the window and ’hi, what can I get for you?’s out the box until ‘caramel iced butterscotch’ drew close.

“I don’t think she wants this iced,” said Tom.

“Just make it iced,” said Dave through locked teeth.

“But… okay,” said Tom.

Once her drink was ready, Dave opened the window up once again as a bright flame in a cold and ruthless world, ready to go to a war he’d started.

“Hi! How are you doing today?” he asked with a voice sweeter than the cold drink in his hand.

The grumpy lady remained silent, but her dagger-eyes spoke volumes on her discontent.

“It’ll be six dollars and thirty cents,” said Dave as he took her card.

“That was supposed to be hot!” she spat viciously.

“Oh! It was? I guess I didn’t hear you right. Shucks! You know how these headsets can be. Let me get it remade for you; it’ll just take a second.”

The line was backed all the way up. There was no chance of anyone pulling up; no new orders to take. Everyone was going to just have to wait; this had become personal, and Dave felt pretty petty.

“I told you she didn’t want it iced,” said Tom.

“Oh, I know. I’ll remake it myself,” said Dave. He went over to an empty machine and started steaming milk. He pumped the sauce into the cup and stood there waiting for the milk to finish. A wry smile ran across his face with anticipation for his next move in the petty game of Sorry. He took his time pouring and swirling the milk so that the sauce wouldn’t get stuck at the bottom. It really doesn’t matter, he thought. She’s not gonna drink this. I just want to take the time to do my job right, even when I’m doing it wrong.

Dave came back to the window with the hot drink in hand. “Here you go, ma’am,” he started saying as his hand went out the window. “I’m sorry about that mis-Oh no!” The drink slipped from his hand and hit the ground upside down. “Whoops!” he said, locking eyes with her and tilting his head to the side, completely sincere in all the wrong ways. “Man, I am so sorry about that. It looks like I’m just a big putz today! Let me go remake that for you.”

Tom giggled behind Dave. The woman seethed, but Dave didn’t give her a chance to speak before he shut the window in her face and turned around. He went back over to the empty machine and repeated making the drink, just as casually. His body rattled with the ignition of fighting instincts. This time, he swirled the cup just enough for show. It really doesn’t matter. She won’t question it. He came back to the window and passed the drink out with her card.

“Here you are! I’m sorry for that mistake on your order. Is there anything else I can get for you?”

She held up a middle finger on an arm indignantly stretched out the car window. A cigarette hung from that hand, leaving smoke rolling into the window.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but I’ll have to ask you to put that out. You can’t smoke anywhere within twenty-five feet of our building,” said Dave, waving his hand in front of his nose.

“Suck a dick!” she yelled before she sped off. Dave stood where she left him, a dumb look on his face.

“I was really hoping she would notice that was just steamed milk before she took off,” said Dave over his shoulder. Tom burst into a laugh that rolled into a ceaseless giggle so he could keep working.

“What’s the holdup at the window?” asked Riley over headset.

“Nothing now. This woman was just being a problem, but Dave took care of it,” replied Tom. He shut his headset off and kept giggling.

“Alright well, I’m gonna come take orders for you while you get caught up.”

“Yeah, I wonder who stole her tip money,” said Dave as he and Tom lost it to laughter.