I had to fill out some new hire paperwork for a little side job at a church right after work, so on the day the table arrived I reasoned that I would just have to take the table with me. It was small enough to fit in a cab so I didn't think I would need any help carrying it home. The church office was a few blocks away from work and I had to use the freight elevator in my building before 5 p.m. or I would've dropped the table off at home first (or come back to the office for it later). Unfortunately, though, the brown box that the table had been shipped in was so torn up from transit that it was no longer functional. I ripped the packaging box off only to find that in big letters stamped all over the inner box were the words "WINE BAR." I felt a little funny about rolling up into the church office to fill out some hire paperwork and introducing myself as the new preschool coordinator (who obviously did A LOT of drinking on the off-hours!).
This time I had my luggage cart and an official elevator pass ready to go at 4:55 p.m. I got on the elevator and the elevator attendant didn't ask for my elevator pass (go figure!). The table was only 60.9 lbs., but not that it made a difference - my arms still felt like they were going to fall off. I got to the front of the building where the church office was located and was told I couldn't take the package upstairs, nor could I leave the package unattended up front. I understood that the policy had to be enforced for terrorist reasons, but I really needed someone to throw me a bone. I was on the phone with the church office when the front desk attendant had pity on me and told me he would watch my package if I wanted to run up to the church office quickly. I was grateful.
After finishing my paperwork I scooted out of the building, thanked the front desk guy and headed for the street to try and catch a cab. Again, rush-hour in Midtown, no cabs available. I kept walking for about 7 blocks towards the bus station, trying to catch a cab on the way. I had no luck and the table was getting heavier. When the bus came, the bus driver refused to let me on! He said it was his 'right' to refuse me a ride because it was rush hour and I would take up too much space in the aisle. I waved him on and told him "nevermind, just go." I didn't want to fight. I was in tears and needed help. That also spiraled into being mad that I didn't have a man in my life to help me carry heavy things. In my pity I would've sat down on the curb and cried but I had nice work pants on and I didn't want them to get snagged or stained. There is a lot a girl will sacrifice for great pants, by the way. Finally, I stood on the corner and said to myself, "God, what do you want me to do? I am at my wits end and I am out of options." I heard a gentle voice say, "just be patient." I was still frustrated and in tears, but I stuck my arm out to hail a cab anyway, and one stopped! I was in disbelief. The cabbie got out of the front seat and put the table in his trunk for me. I thanked him profusely and got into the cab. I had sunglasses on as I quietly shed some tears in the back seat.
When we arrived at my home, I thanked the cabbie and told him that he had saved the day. He replied that he was "just doing his job." I thanked him again and gave him a large tip. I still had to take the table up four flights of stairs, but I didn't care. God had met my need, and that was all I needed at that moment to keep going.
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