Find your way back

When I was in college, one of the many places I worked was "The Shire". It was a bar in the basement of this fantastic old mansion. When I say basement, I basically mean convention center bomb shelter it was an enormous cavernous space. I used to serve many a wine cooler and Miller Lite. But the most memorable aspect of that job was that once people realized you were a sitting target, they could sit at the bar and remain there for hours. It's sort of a power play and one that I've kept stored in my memory for the purpose of making sure that I keep moving so as not to repeat history.
Jake calls me at work because he knows I'm there and I have to answer the phone. He calls to ask me to do things that I can't possibly; like unlock the computer or take him to the store for clothes. Other times I love that I'm anchored; people whom I've helped before and apparently had done it with a modicum of competence, come into the library and actually brighten when they approach the desk and see me. In the darkness of the teenage abyss that is my life, it's a bit of a enlivening occasion.