*Keep in mind that a number like "27" is considered 'two' numbers and NOT one. The submission number should resemble 4-digits like "4923"

Herbert hurriedly burst through the doors of his place of employment, Ghost Chase Pizza.

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“Ooo,” Phoebe, the cashier, playfully sang, “someone’s late again.”

 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he ran towards the six pizza boxes on the counter ready to be delivered. “Something just came up,” he reached his arms around to grab the pizza boxes. “Can you clock me in? Please?”

 

“Wait!” Phoebe halted him. “Boss wants to see you first; he knew you wouldn’t be here by eight. He’s waiting in the office.”

 

“Dammit,” Herbert slammed his hand on the counter and caught his breath. He began to drag himself towards the back office.

 

Moments later, Manager Gerald Watkins sat at his desk with his feet propped up on it, staring down at Herbert. “I just don’t know what to do with you. You’re giving me no choice here. You constantly brag about your car’s horsepower and a new engine you put in that goes from zero to sixty in seconds, and yet, you seem to stay almost an hour late.” Manager Watkins then leaned forward towards his employee. “Herbert, you literally live the closest to the workplace than anyone else here! What am I going to do with you?”

 

Herbert squinted, cringed, and squealed, “…don’t … fire ... me. Please, I need this job.”

 

Manager Watkins exhaled in exhaustion and his face fell into the palm of his hands. “Fortunately, and unfortunately … I can’t fire you now.”

 

The muscles in Herbert’s face eased, and a slight smile began to creep on, “…yes!”

 

Palmer quit because he had to cover your slack and I couldn’t afford to give him a raise,” Watkins explained as he threw up a hand. “And our competition down the street, Sircum Slice, just went 24 hours last night, which means we must follow suit ASAP to keep up. Make no mistake, I’m hiring other drivers. So, you’re not in the clear for long, you lucky son-of-a…”