Traffic was horrible enough for me to call my job. I explained I would be tardy. Tardies are something I hate getting. But I hate getting points more. I arrived at work at 9:10. I was running to my locker. My hands chucked my pill bottle and phone in there once I opened it. I was so clumsy that I spilled pills in my locker. I locked up my locker, thinking that all the medicines were in there. The tardy was what I got when I clocked in. Mrs. Bush stopped me.
“Is everything ok?” Mrs. Bush asked.
“Yes, ma’am. I was just running a little late. The traffic held me up a bit. I appreciate you asking.”
She gave a smile. I moved to my seat. I presumed it sincere that my supervisor wanted to keep her employees happy. She was my supervisor, but an expert judge of character and work ethic. She give
