Many of the problems were expressed behind our backs to Amazon itself and we’d get notice of it in our weekly scores. Sometimes it was extremely petty, and other times it was deserved, like the time I got stuck in someone’s driveway in Palmyra and almost flipped the van over. It was tilting to the side. Any sudden shift of weight would’ve caused it to flip over, so I moved to the other side of the van and that seemed to stabilize it until the tow truck arrived.

There were customer complaints, and our driving records were also monitored by our hand-held devices when we scanned the PR code to link it to our assigned vehicles. Every turn, start, and stop was being monitored, and that only increased when we had to get windshield-mounted cameras that watched everything we did as we were driving. That led a large number of people to stop driving for Amazon, but there were a lot more people who stayed, and more were being hired by the private companies all the time. I didn’t like it, but I was willing to tolerate it, at least for a while.

One November night in Dousman, as I was only a couple of stops away from completing my route, one of my customers had an unusual topic to discuss.

“Did you hear about what happened in Waukesha?”

“No, I didn’t. What was it?” I asked.

“Somebody drove their car through the Christmas parade and some people died and others were injured.”

“What??? Oh my God! I saw a bunch of people on Twitter talking about something happening at a parade, but I had no idea it was right over in Waukesha!”

Waukesha was about 15 minutes away from where I was. I had heard about several incidents involving people driving through crowds before, but never anything so close! There were other times where I had to drive near areas where there was an active shooter, but this was by far the most serious incident.

My coworker Shaquanna actually had family that went to the parade that night, but fortunately, none of them were injured or killed. I was like, “Who would target such a small and unheard of place to choose to kill people?” But then the true motive came out. Still, the blatant disregard for life, even though it wasn’t premeditated, was extremely disturbing. A human life is priceless, but we too often assign values to people based on our own ignorance.

 

My cousin Tom would come up from Tennessee once or twice a month to check up on the company to make sure everything was going well. Sometimes he would invite me out to have some dinner and a couple drinks and we’d talk about many things; from the business to our childhood growing up together. Tom really got himself together since we were younger. He started out as the wildest of us who would get himself kicked out of state parks and who knows where else, but now he was one of, if not the most successful businessman in the whole family. I really admired his progress.

One night, Tom invited me to a bar on Arcadian Avenue in Waukesha. It seemed like a pretty out of the way kind of place to go to, and I wasn’t sure how he even heard about it, but I wasn’t going to complain. I met Tom out at the bar after work thanks to Google Maps, otherwise I never would’ve found the place. I had known about the city of Waukesha since birth, but this was the first time I ever went there.

Thinking this was going to be one of our typical after-work meals, Tom and I ordered drinks, but discovered the kitchen was closed. Unfortunate, but we overlooked that.

While we were talking, a woman slightly older than middle-age who had the youthfulness and enthusiasm of someone much younger came up and started talking to us.

“Amazon! You guys do such a good job! My packages ALWAYS arrive on time!”

We all introduced ourselves, and she told us her name was Patti. I was surprised she was so unafraid to approach two guys she didn’t know in a bar and start talking. Maybe things were different here in Waukesha.

She was talking to us for about an hour. Even after having a few drinks, I thought I started to notice something about her.

“Are your eyes two different colors?” I asked.

“Yeah. I’m surprised you noticed. Most people even outside of the bar don’t notice that.”

She had the David Bowie thing going on where one of her eyes was blue and the other was hazel. Completely natural too.

Patti seemed to be very comfortable with this place. She was on very friendly terms with one of the bartenders, who was probably in her late twenties to early thirties. Her name was Annie. She had medium to long brown hair that was tied up and shaved off in certain places. She also had a bunch of tattoos and piercings. Annie had kind of a stone face that didn’t express emotions easily with slightly intimidating eyes, like there was something else about her. She seemed like an independent boss babe who some women try to impersonate, but she looked like the real one.

Patti asked for my phone number, and I gave it to her.

“She never asks anyone for their phone number. I see her all the time here,” Annie commented.

Tom and Patti started talking about a drink that’s popular in Chicago called Malort. It’s supposed to be the most disgusting shot you can order, and men in Chicago drink it to show they are a man. I was interested because I never heard of it before, and I wanted to test myself against it. Annie told us they didn’t serve that drink, but Patti said she knew a place where they serve it. I was hyping us up to all go over and try it, but Tom sounded like he was going to check out early.

“You gonna come with us? Come on, man!” I tried to push Tom while Patti was off in another part of the bar.

“No. I think this is all you, Drew,” Tom replied.

No matter what I couldn’t convince him to come with us.

I went over to the other side of the bar to talk to Patti for a moment, and when I looked back, Tom had already headed out the door.

“He’s leaving? I’ll get him!” Patti said as she ran out the door after him.

Tom must not have seen Patti, because he was about three feet away from running her over when he pulled out in his truck he uses for interstate travel.

Annie was very concerned, and she thought he did it on purpose, but I knew there was no way he would do that. She was very protective of Patti.

After everyone calmed down, Patti told me about the bar where we could do Malort shots. It was a bar in the middle of New Berlin. I was determined to try that shot, so we left the bar and headed for New Berlin.