One of the hassles of not having a car while living in Turks and Caicos is definitely the need to take “”public transportation”. For the non locals, public trans consists of standing on the side of the road and waiting for a person in a nondescript car (jitney) to honk at you. Please pay attention to the sound of the horn, it is usually done in two short bursts “kink kink”. You then indicate for them to stop and you tell them where you need to go. Now, the driver of the jitney is typically a Haitian male who speaks just enough English to ensure that I did indeed say “Gwace Bay Clob”.
Earlier this week, I would say Tuesday, I got a bit of a late start for my 10:00am shift. I left my apartment with 10 minutes to spare and I was praying for a jitney to come so that I could make it KINDA on time. Now, I only live about 7 minutes from work so the odds were in my favor. Welllll, there was nothing shaking. I ended up waiting 20 mins for a ride and I got to work pretty damn late. Being the responsible employee that I am, I told knew I had to get my life in order.
So I made the vow to snooze my clock only three times instead of four, to get my uniform sorted the night before, to make sure that I had started my makeup by 9 so that I could be out by 9:30. So yesterday this plan went off without a hitch, and I got to work about 10 mins early, had time to skylark lil bit before work.
This morning, same plan. Get up after only three snoozes, get ready, make sure my makeup done by half past, get out, be on the road with time to spare. Somehow I ended up leaving my apartment at a quarter past. So as I am adjusting my wig and slipping into my shoes I am cussing myself for being late AGAIN this week. I mean, evaluations coming up, I ga need some good reviews. Good news, jitney comes within 2 minutes. Ya girl is golden.
I get to work, I clock in with two minutes to spare and I speed-walk to my office. As I am going up the stairs, my coworker sees me and asks, “Why are you here ?” I am confused as all hell, I mean, I done almost late and rushing into the office, I really don’t have time to figure what she’s talking about. I get into the office and everyone is looking at me weird, “Girl, why you here?”
Confusion ensues. Then someone drops the bomb, “Its only 9:00, in you ‘posed to be working fa 10?” Realization dawns. I think about that extra hour of sleep that was due to me. Sleep that I worked for and denied myself.
So now I is the conch and working free overtime.