"Overdone and Undercooked" Newspaper Columns©

We were a ragged group of people.  There was a man who drove up in a Mercedes.  Dressed in a suit and kept to himself.  A fellow in a wheelchair who had worked there for ten years.   And he took the bus to and from everyday.

There was the Gossiper.  She would sit there with her eyeglasses halfway down her face.  Whisper about everyone.  One time I was called into the Managers room with the door closed behind me.  And the Gossiper had heard me add an extra word into the script.

The   ”Stares with Open Mouth Gossiper” would come up to anyone standing there in a conversation.  You could say, ”Can I help you.”  Her eyes would get bigger.  And I swear I could see them roll in her head.  And she would not go away.

This was not the ship that sailed.  As my Nana used to say.  This was people who had reached the edge, fallen in, and digging their way out.  Just like me. I needed this minimum wage job, and felt lucky to have it.  And I just ignored the dirty equipment.  And the torn ripped chairs.  Dirty walls and dirty floors.

I especially liked the Funeral Magazine.  They had names for the Crematory.  Like: Suzanne, Cemetery, Aviation, Giftware, Semi truck and Architectural  Digest were some of my favorites.  We had scripts for Firehouses, Hairdressers, Mechanics, and more.  These Magazines were for Businesses.  Not the public.

The best guys on the phone calls were the Firemen.  Who were always polite and nice on the phone.  They always renewed their subscription.  I envision men that were really fit and handsome.  And then I would realize how lonely I was, how much I missed the soft spot between Nick’s thighs, that I loved to touch right before I would go to sleep at night.

 

Every morning I would rise at 4 am to get dressed and get downtown by 5:45 am for my 6 am-Noon shift.  Seven days a week. The building was in the middle of a bad district downtown.  Plus, the fact I was parking in the dark and had to run across the street so as not to get hit by a bus.  My favorite part of the ride to work was the Country music station on the radio.

At least something still worked on my truck.  I haven’t paid the mortgage this month.  And the truck, as always, was on empty and driving on fumes…like the song on my favorite Country Music station.  ”Cause Mama’s hooked on Mary Kay.  Brother’s hooked on Mary Jane.  And Daddy’s hooked on Mary two doors down.”

My favorite was Toby Keiths, Red Solo Cup!  Which kept me laughing and bouncing all the way to work.  Isn’t that what Country Western music is all about.  The losses in life and how some people never recover.  They never get angry.  They feel it is their fault.  And then the cycle continues to the next generation and the next generation.

My new job was selling Magazines.  We were all huddled in a tiny room of many cubicles with our desk telephones and our script and a list of contacts. We were all encouraged to read the Magazine’s so we could understand the Owners who bought them.

I was at a desk for two.  Me and Alfonso during my first week.  He had tattoos on every finger.  A snakehead on the tip of his chin.  He wore the same army outfit every day. His head was 1/2 shaved with long hair on the other side and safety pins in his ears.  Some days he came in a sleeveless t-shirt with tattoos of skeletons, dog shit, swear words, and so forth.

Every time he couldn’t get a payment he would pound the desk and glare at me. The kind of glare that looked like it was my fault and he was going to scratch my eyes out any minute.  Never once did he speak to me.

They rotated us ofen.  Thank God.

I came to the early appointment in my black jacket and black skirt.  Trying to look professional and business like.  But, unfortunately, I was sooo overdressed! I was embarrassed.  The Boss was wearing a jogging outfit with sports team logos and tennis shoes. He had a crewcut and an oversized diamond earring in one ear.

He had me sit at a round table in the middle of a room full of cubicles.  I could hear people talking.  But I could not see them.  I did hear a couple of ”What do you mean! You don’t want a subscription?”

Yikes!  ”Yeah, what was your name again? ”Jillie.” ”OK, Jillie. Fill out this application.  When you are done, bring it inside my office.”  He pointed to a closed door.  When I finished the application, I knocked on the door.  He hollered come in!

He  was sitting in a chair behind a desk.  There was four more desks in the room.  He took the application and nodded for me to sit in the chair.  His collar ws open and he scratched his neck and hummmed while reading the application.

He dropped it on the desk and said, ”When can you start?”  ”Now,” I said.  ”Good answer.” he said with a grin.  ”OK.  Come back tomorrow.”

”Do not be late.  If you are late, you will lose your seat.  And we will have to send you home.”  ”Dress casual.  Bring water.  No food.  Keep it in your car for break.  Your shift will be from 6am (calling back East) untill noon.  We will get you a headset.  Here is the script.  Take a look bring it back tomorrow.”

I got in my truck, and screamed Hallelujah! and punched the seat.  And then I realized. I didn’t even know the Boss’s name.

MENTAL HEALTH HOTLINE

If your obsessive compulsive press 1  repeatedly

If you are co-dependent ask someone to press 2 for you

If you have multiple personalities press 3,4,5, and 6

If ur paranoid we know who you are–please stay on the line which we trace this call

If you are schitzophrink – a small voice will tell you which button to push

If you are a blond – hand up now cuz you’ve already fucked it all up

Don’t forget all the cards pushing to success

I will live well and die when I can’t help it

Have a grateful day!

Old as when God created light

How long your boots been under someone else’s bed

NO ONE SAID THEY LOVE YOU TODAY.  WE DO!

I’m here doing work study: 6:30am to 10 am prep.  Lunch lady work then school 9:30 to 2pm then banquet serving in the evening. All manual labor and I am not 20.

School is fun and great but the noise, the age, and education levels, makes me depressed.  If i work the entire month of October, I am going to miss another month of full time pay.

I have met with and Event services called Total Success Staffing it is time to quit school and work full time.

I had to tell Chef.  It was embarrassing after having been flirted with, but he was kind and patient. Of course I teared up embarrassed, and he was genuinely concerned.

My focus was to save my house and not foreclose.  I’am booking every day to work at Total Success staffing Event services. We wear uniforms and have daily shifts.

I have been to a bar mitzha, a dog show, keg serving beer in tiny beer glasss, Micosoft gay lesbian club.  Prep whole box of yellow/green zuchinni, and expensive mushrooms.

And  I already have found a part time inside sales manager job that will pay me a whopping $20.00 an hour.  I had written a resume that emphasized business and my phone skills.

I had two interviews and was hired!

Finding work during this recession was difficult and they wanted me!  I was more than giddy that they liked me.

I couldn’t stop doing the Happy Dance.

 

 

 

 

“Jillie, I’m sorry to say, but because of the Great Recession your Financial Aid has been cut in half.  So, instead of $1,400 a month, you will only receive $800 for this year. I have the month of September and almost all of October. I knew right then with my $2,300 a month mortgage. School had to go.  I had to find work that paid.

Where to start?  I can’t remember ever being this physicaly exhausted.  I think my work shoes are old and of course I don’t have $200 to buy new ones.

I have food, freedom, home, car, all I’m lacking is money.  So, keeping that perspective. I realize that I’m feeling a bit calmer.  A bit more protected  because, I have not lost anything yet.  And I have money from the barn rent, the cars and boats in the field.

I will see if I am enough of a hardship case to help me with my mortgage.  And to get the paperwork out to help me with the hot water tank that burst yesterday.  I do not have problems.  I have inconveniences and feel so lucky to still have my home and my retirement.

I will not be foolish enough to throw it away because I’m tired.  I have on the wall all my accomplishments since this nitemare started and everyday I say this is not doomsday.  Doomsday is not here today.  I pick myself up even if I have a crying bout (that is not controllable).

 

I was officially divorced. Divorced.  Divorced. Divorced.  No longer Mrs. Apple.  It was precisely one year and 31 days since March 13, 2010.

I wanted to scream with relief.  However, I was filled with sadness, anger, and a little bit of happiness.  At least that’s what I told myself.

George as always, was one big smile, when I came into the Computer Room.  I said, ”Thank you” and goodbye to all the guys.

George gave me the computer and said he wanted to talk to me.  I said, ”Okay but I’ve got a class so can you walk with me.”

As we walked outside the door, I asked George. ”What was it he wanted to talk about?”  His face flushed and as always I could never tell which eye to look at.  I know that is bad, but it is true.

Since I started school I never took off my wedding ring.  And I never discussed with a classmate or teacher.  Only the Displaced Homemaker, Brian Thomas, who had come in the dining room recently, and in front of everyone, he gave me a huge hug.

I’m sure my co-workers,  Cheff and Mr. C wondered what the hell that was about.  Brian told me he was leaving the school, and just wanted to wish me well.  I was not happy as he had helped me and I would miss not having the one person who knew my past gone.

George, who had been jabbering and walking alongside me, suddenly stepped  in front of me so that I had to stop. ”George?” ”Jillie.” ”Yes?”  ”Will you go out with me?”  ”I know you don’t wnt to go out with someone like me, but someone as beautiful as you are the prettiest girl I know.  And your so nice and I would actually fall over dead if you did say yes. But will you?”

I never saw that coming.  I was indeed taken aback and the irony of today of all days.  The day of my Divorce and being asked out?  ”Oh, George” I put my hand on his shoulder, and you will not believe, how much you made my day!”

So I kissed him on the cheek and gave him another huge squeeze hug.  Thanks for making my day.    And I walked by myself with an enormous smile on my face.

I will never forget on the day it was officially over and Divorced.  I got asked out on a date.

The last time was 40+years ago.

 

 

”Yes, my class is Computer Repair at the Tech center in room 219.  We are there Monday-Friday from 7am to 3pm.”  ”George, oh my gosh.   Wow!  I just broke my laptop.  I have had to go to the library almost every day to use their computers.  The worst part is that I only dropped it 3 inches on the carpet and it won’t work.  Could your class fix it?”

”Yes.” ”Well, I will tell you at the end of the day the bakery has leftovers, like donuts and I wil bring them to your class if you will fix my computer.”

His face lit up!  He had a crazy, one eye, that drifted to the right. ”Are you going to be there this afternoon?”  ”Yes.”  ”George, don’t leave a tip anymore.  This is just great news.  Thank you.”

I kept coming in once a week to drop off all the baked goods.  It was so fun to not throw away our food we had made,  and let all the great guys in Computer Repair enjoy it.  And I got to know them all, as George showed me around, and introduced me to his fellow students.

I had just talked to the attorney an hour before I arrived at 2pm at the Computer Lab with my arms full of my last big box of baked goods.  Months and months of anxiety and uncertainty of having to face a Judge who would make the decision on how to divide the house.  I was officially divorced and still had my house.  I no longer would have nightmares of my belongings in a shopping cart walking the streets aimlessly, homeless.

Finally, the stagnant Oxygen thief of fear, fell off me .  Brick by brick filing my body with clarity and hope.

 

”I’m so jealous of you.”  Willow grabbed my elbow as we walked down to the school restaurant. ”You have two guys, well three if we count,  ”Jelly! Jelly! Jelly!  ”You are so funny.” I agreed with a small smile.  Willow looked up at me. ”No, listen to me. Okay.  First, Chef Brock.  If only this dude could look at me–the way he looks at you Jilly.” ”Second.  One EYE.  ”Willow, his name is George.”

”Yay, Yay, whatever he come in every single day.  He sits in the barstool at the round restaurant table cause you are serving and orders only from you!!  Ah, well  I wonder why he doesn’t wear a patch since that bad eye is crossed. ”Willow! Gimme a break- you are 21 years old.  I’m like your Grandma.”  ”Yeah bitch, that’s why I’m so mad at you.”

I grabbed her braid.  ”You have this long beautiful red hair and a ton of friends. So why do you want Chef Brock anyway? ”Easy. Cause he wants you.” ”OMG!”  I love you so much.  You have absolutely made my day.”

I opened the restaurant door just in time to hear ”LUNCH!”  Opens in 5 minutes.  Everyone gets to their stations now!!” Mr. F hollered.  ”Dining room is about to open!”  Willow and I , both in our server uniforms, waved goodbye to each other.  She went to her station and I went inside the round bar where the cash register was, and bar stools lined up

Mr. F came up to me, ”Can you count change today Jillie.”  ”Maybe.” ”Can you fold napkins today, Jillie?” ”Yes.  Yes. I can.  Do you want a demonstration?” Mr. F huffed off.  I knew he wasn’t really mad at me but had to keep up his appearnace as an asshole.  I tightened my apron around my waist and like clockwork.  Our first customer was George.  ”Hi Jillie.”  He said as he scooted up onto the cafeteria bar stool.  ”Oh, Hi!” (shit, I almost called him one eye.)

”George, how are you today?” ”Oh, I am taking my class today about fixing computers.”  ”Wait?  What did you say?  Did you say there is a class on campus that fixes broken computers?”

Culinary school you depend on each other .  If one fails the group, it slows down the process, the rhythm, the dance of every day, in the kitchen. Feels like a romance.  The slow beginning prep starts with easy.  Then it picks up speed.  As the clock ticks, close to a meal hour, you go from holding hands to a dance of frantic proportions.  Yelling! Hot! Corner!  Knife!  This rolling seance of bodies, in time with each other, similar to the touch, naked skin and the sheets, the same hot searing increase, in blood pressure and the food is braised, grilled, each station completed and the rush is over.  Till the next one.

One of my best experiences in Culinary school was the Chef.  Chef Matt he had a grin on his face that never left.  He was cute and tall, athletic.  He sang and brought his guitar to class.  And the best of all treated me like I was his age and not some old broad, lost and lonely.

Why?  I have no idea.  But his kindness in flirting with me and so full of energy and good cheer and upeat.  I loved it when he would try our food and the many looks on his face!?  When I would walk out of the class, his eyes would follow me, and I would turn around and give him the smile, he said he liked.   He made my day every day so great!

Sometimes, I would come into the kitchen, and you know how you are in the same path as some one walking toward you,  and somebody has to move over. He would grab my hand, and twirl me around, and grab me by the waist and start to dance.