It was a cold winter night; Andrea was at work hosting a little girl’s birthday party. The mother of the party invited so many people that the two bowling lanes were crowded and filled like the Busch Stadium on Cardinal’s Opening Day. Andrea was getting overwhelmed from the little space everyone had, along with what seemed like, hundreds of presents. Andrea started to fan herself off as she was sweating so bad like she had for a mile run in the desert. Andrea’s color started to drain from her skin; her face started to look pale as if she had never seen the sun.

“Do you feel fine enough to continue with the party?” the mother asked.

“I’ll be alright,” Andrea claimed.

Feeling guilty, the mother stated, “I understand and don’t mind if you walk away for a second to catch a breath.”

“Okay,” Andrea said.

After the conversation ended, Andrea started to feel worse. The mother could tell by the way Andrea’s hands started to shake and her handwriting started to get worse, like she was back in kindergarten.

Andrea then walked away to go to the bathroom. When she returned everyone in the party could tell she wasn’t feeling well. Andrea started to move slower and couldn’t seem to get all happy and peppy so she could end the party well. Since she felt awful through the whole party but still fought through and got her job done, the mother and father of the party decided to tip her twenty-five dollars each.

“I’m sorry I got sick at your daughter’s birthday party and for stepping away from the party,” Andrea said to the mother.

“It’s fine,” said the mother.

The mother then hoped that the tip they left would make Andrea feel at least a little bit better.