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I was working as a cook in a well-known restaurant.  I had just started. They decided to try me on the night shift.  I hardly knew anything.  I was by myself.  Soon I began to hear over and over those terrifying words from the waitresses, “Ordering!”, and I was getting frantic. I didn’t know the menu that well, and there were too many orders lined up in front of me. The supervisor had callously told me that this was the night that would make me or break me.  This job was all I had.  I hoped to send a little money home to my baby son and wife.  I had left them, and a good job, to “find myself”. But now I was falling apart. 

Just as I was almost giving up, a waitress told me that there was a man who wanted to help me.  He came and introduced himself.  He was pleasant; he said his name was Archie.  He told me he was a cabdriver who had once worked in this restaurant.  He stayed nearly all night.  He not only did most of the work; he taught me enough about the job so that I would survive in the coming months.  As far as I can remember, no one in the of restaurant seemed to know him. At the time I was too stressed to grasp what had happened. It was only years later that I realized this had been divine help.

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