"It'll be $6.95, and a beer if you have one."
If there was one thing Momoko hated more than working as a delivery girl in the dinner rush hour, it was the fact that she worked for a Chinese restaurant. What did people do when they were too busy to cook? Order Chinese take-out. What was the go-to meal for anyone home alone or having a friend over? Chinese. What did you do when you didn't know what to eat? You called up to have Chinese delivered. It seemed like everyone and their dog ordered Chinese food that friday night, not to mention the crowded restaurant already she worked at.
The small, dingy place, a building that reminded her much of her her father's own place of business, was filled with people from around where she lived, and most of them she knew their orders by heart, as well as addresses. After all, she had been working at that restaurant for three years, and had an excellent memory to boot. The normal delivery girl was gone though, so tonight she took the old car from the back of the kitchen out probably once every hour or so to run meals out to people who were too lazy to cook their own damn meals. Even other asians were ordering out. What the hell was wrong with them?
The manager would let her ride her own bike to close deliveries, but for once that required her to venture through town or across different suburbs, the car was necessary for her to complete the delivery underneath the time limit. If she didn't, they would have to give the meal for free, and that would come out of her own pay. How was Mo gonna afford classes then? She had been a delivery girl a couple times before, so she generally knew where most main streets led in the bustling town of Chicago, but that didn't stop her heart from racing each time she got to a house right before the time limit was up. She wasn't the best of drivers, and some new dents (only she could tell you where they were) appeared as the night went on. It was her damn manager's fault, she warned him!
It wasn't two minutes after she walked back into the hot kitchen of the restaurant, Wok and Roll, before the manager gave her another delivery address and two bags of chinese food. Grumbling underneath her breath, she quickly turned in the money from the last order and walked back out to the old car. Because she had been called in to work, she wasn't dressed in the proper attire. If she had been working on her shift, a Wok and Roll shirt would be on, complete with a hat turned backwards and some jacket advertising something most people probably never heard of. Tonight however, she had been working on her homework and chilling at home, so in the matter of minutes Momoko had to get dressed, it turned out pretty well, actually. Considering the time constraints and all. Right now she was sporting a bright neon green shirt with something about being Japanese, some grey shorts and a bomber jacket. Her hair was actually as nice as she did it up that afternoon for a talent interview; it was wavy and framed her face. Upon her wrists were about a million different bracelets, as well as some on her right ankle right above her slip on shoes.
"Looks like this jerk lives in the uptown area. Who the hell orders Chinese from a rundown place in East Chicago when so many good places are in Downtown? Cheeze-its!" Momoko said in a huff as she drove to the address. Her last remark being a habit she picked up from her friend whom she was now living with, who had gone to some nerd-camp and brought back that saying with her. It was only a matter of time before Momoko started to say it too, instead of Jeeze or Jesus! That kind of bothered people some times.
It took her a bit longer than normal to reach the house of the jerk who had bad taste in Chinese food, because she had taken a wrong turn and ended up driving away from Uptown for a while before realizing her mistake. This was why she hated cars, they took away from her ability to sense things around her. Enclosed like this, it was hardly fair to people who were claustrophobic. Still, she managed to find the street, and was looking for the correct address when the car ended up curb-checking someone's front lawn. "Aww man! Wait, this is the address! Dammit."
The last thing Mo needed was to have some person chew her head off for maybe, slightly pulling the car into their... front lawn. At least I made sure that damned curb was still there. Mo thought grumpily to herself as she made sure the food survived the trip. It looked okay to her, so the nineteen-year-old climbed out of the driver's seat, grabbed the food, ticket, and her keys. It was a short walk to the front door, where she quickly rapped her knuckles about four times, impatiently tapping her foot while waiting. Excuse me, you're horrible food is here, and don't bother to look at the car halfway on your lawn, some stranger did that. Mo smiled to herself, for just a moment before it seemed her knocking was being answered.
"Look, I have your Wok and Roll food delivery. It'll be... wait lemme check," Mo pulled out the ticket from her hand and showed it to the person, almost having to reach up higher because of her short height. "It'll be $6.95, and a beer if you have one." Momoko exclaimed, nodding back at her horrible parking job and sighing. How long was this going to take?
Last edited by Momoko Ishikawa on Tue Jul 17, 2012 6:52 pm; edited 1 time in total
