Page 8 of Locked Down In Watch Hill
A rap on the door frame broke me from my social media sleuthing. Tyler had an expectant expression on his face. “Hey, we just got like a dozen orders in a row.”
“Really?” I recoiled. “That’s a lot for a Monday night.”
He nodded. “I was thinking the same thing. Dude, we need more help.”
I flinched at Tyler’s informal way of addressing me, then decided to ignore it. He was just a kid and a hard worker. He also had a good point. We did need more help.
“Do you think we can handle this on our own?” he added.
“Let me give Seth a call. He’ll probably want to pick up some extra cash.”
“Great.” Tyler glanced back at the main part of the shop. “Also, I haven’t been able to upload anything to Instagram today. I was going to do it around now, but then we got so busy.”
“I’ll take care of that. Don’t think about it.” I smiled at him. “Thanks for doing so much today. You always give it your all.”
He shrugged. “Don’t mention it. Now, let me get back to the pizza.”
Tyler disappeared into the food prep area and I turned back to the desktop. Social media marketing.Ugh.One more necessity that came with running a business. We needed a strong and active presence on social media to go along with the stellar online reviews and occasional local news features. It didn’t take an MBA to know that, but I had to admit I hated the endless self-promotion and brain bytes wasted on thinking up catchy captions and creative images. That stuff felt forced, and after a few weeks of posting, it had turned into a chore.
Still, I had no choice.
I took my phone from my pocket, scrolled through recent images, and uploaded the first decent one I saw of a hamburger pizza we tested as a special a few days before. Customers seemed to like it, and the image had decent lighting. I type out a quick sentence to go with the photo, added a few hashtags, and shut down the app. Then I called Seth.
He picked up on the first ring.
At least we were growing. I counted my blessings about that part because things could have been worse, and I knew it.
***
ASHLEY
I didn’t need the chicken wings.
No one ever really does, do they? I could have made something else at home, could have cobbled a meal together from the groceries I’d ordered that morning, but I didn’t feel like it. I felt like having some Watch Hill Pizza. More like Watch Hill Pizza chicken wings.
That sounded like the perfect end to a Monday that, for once, had ended decently—and God knew I needed some good news. I had two new freelance opportunities in the can, one for a boutique across town that didn’t want to handle its social media anymore, and one writing a few online advertorials for Freemont Communications, a public relations firm that kept insisting they’d hire me full-timeonce the pandemic passed. I knew they strung me along because keeping me freelance meant they didn’t have to give me benefits or health insurance, but I still couldn’t find the will to say no.
Freemont paid well, and I needed the money. Simple as that.
To celebrate my pending windfall, I decided to treat myself to chicken wings. From a pizza shop, instead of a nearby sports bar. Of course, I had other reasons for doing so—pizzerias weren’t exactly known for having great wings, even if the menu from Watch Hill Pizza listed a dozen sauces and promised oven-baked perfection.
“I’ll have a half dozen of the lime chili pepper and a half dozen of the original buffalo,” I told the worker on the other end of the line, a slightly out-of-breath man who had introduced himself as Tyler. “And a side of the pizza bread.”
“Coming right up. How would you like to pay?”
“I have a gift card, but I’m not quite sure how much is left on it. Whatever it is, I can give you my credit card for the difference,” I said before rattling off the numbers I had from the email my sister had sent me.
“Let me see here.” Tyler punched in the numbers. “Thirty dollars. There’s thirty dollars left.”
“No way.” I frowned, thinking of the pizza I had ordered several days before. “There has to be a mistake.”
“It says thirty here.”
“Okay, but that can’t be right.”
I insisted Tyler try again, and he told me that yes, the card still had the original balance on it. I hung up more than a little confused but determined to work it out with the delivery driver once the food arrived. I wasn’t going to take free food like that. It didn’t seem fair, especially since they were small business, and times had been hard for small businesses. I wanted to help any way I could.
I still had that resolve about a half hour later, when the buzzer sounded at my apartment front door. “Wait a minute,” I called as I slipped on my mask and cracked the door open. Day eight of quarantine.Not long to go now“I just—oh—hey there, Seth.”
