photo courtesy of Google Images
It’s 47 degrees outside on a spring night in March, definitely not the chilliest night of the year, but cold enough. The task that lies ahead for 22-year-old Marc Nieto would be no easy one for many people his age, having to pry himself away from his friends on a Friday night in Dallas in order to commute to McKinney, a suburb thirty minutes north. Not to mention that it’s nearly one in the morning.
He does this every weekend, and he’s never able to stay before the night ends because his job’s hours just won’t allow him to. You see, Marc is an independent contractor whose hours span from 2-8 a.m. on Saturday mornings and from 12-4 a.m. on Sundays.
“I don’t know how you do it man, you really need to quit that job,” Nick, Marc’s roommate, says with his speech a tad slurred.
“That job is pretty weak,” Peter, another one of Marc’s friends, chimes in.
“You know this is how I get paid son, see y’all,” Marc says while he waves his goodbyes to everyone else and leaves without a fuss.
Leaving Milo’s, a bar on SMU Boulevard, and having managed to drink nothing while his friends are borderline drunk, Marc hops in his Red Dodge Ram pickup truck and heads off. Sometimes Marc is able to slink away from his friends earlier and take a quick nap before he starts his job, but not tonight.
Turning on the radio, Marc listens to one of the CD’s he recently burned for trips such as these. He hasn’t had the time to go buy an audio jack for his tape deck to play music on his iPhone, so the CD’s will have to do. Recently, he’s a discovered a new artist that he’s taken a liking to named “The