Week of . . .

If you've ever watched Star Trek Voyager, you may recall a particularly gripping two episode story called "Year of Hell" where everything that could, (and couldn't) go wrong, did. It was depressing.

Therefore you could understand how I might make the connection between that pair of episodes and how my work week is starting to shape up. My manager is away, along with all the other uhaul people, which leaves me in the Captain's chair. A seat whose comfort fades quickly before a onslought of a mixture of angry, non-thinking, swearing people that happen to be the majority of my customers. Probably half of the contracts I've run through have run into problems. . .

Trailers which end up being broken, wasting precious time. Too many trucks and not enough places to put them. People who forget their driver's licenses at home, have to disconnect their trailers and reconnect again later. People who have reserved a truck with a credit card, but then don't bother to bring it for the contract. People who don't realize we'll need the signiture of the card owner. (I don't get that one. Like seriously, duh.) They then discover that that person went away to Hawaii, and won't be available for a week of Sunday. But they still want their truck.

And in addition, I'm working alone now. My co-worker had to go home with heart palpatations. And since he's an older man, there is no way I'm going to make him work.

*sigh*

And the rosy prospect of a whole week of this rises before my imagination.

And yet, it's really quite amazing to know that I've got something deeper to hold on to. It's fascinating how much peace prayer can give you. And I know that either way this week goes, that He's got a plan, and that I needn't worry. I still somewhat do, of course, but I'm getting better at it all the time.