EDITH BARKER AND I

The Pennsylvania heat was unbearable and my place of work didn't help matters at all. Mr Marshall, the owner of the restaurant; 'Marshall's Food House' had refused to install an AC for his customers. We were left to melt away in the scourging heat.

Mr Marshall was a very stingy man. He never granted any of his workers a bonus, never promoted any of them, never gave us free lunches and especially never gifted presents during the holidays like other bosses I heard of. What Mr Marshall could do was rage on and scream at his staff whenever he found something he did not like.

I knew it was wicked for me, but I secretly wished that he would choke on a lemon or a pea or something. Being a restaurant owner, Mr Marshall was fat and loved the taste of food.

It was very important that I cleaned the restaurant before Mr. Marshall's arrival. If he found the restaurant not cleaned yet or he found me in the process of cleaning, he'd always make a fuss about it so I tried to be punctual.

After cleaning up the restaurant, I walked up to the door. The eating section of the restaurant was made of see-through glass. I turned the sign from 'closed' to a bold 'OPEN' before springing the door wide open.

Another day as a waitress in New York. I said to myself before returning to the kitchen. A few minutes later, I heard Mr Marshall's loud voice as he walked into the restaurant.

"Hello, Mr Marshall." I greeted with a smile when I walked into the kitchen and he ignored my existence.

"Meeting, meeting!" He called out, standing beside the kitchen table. Ryan was already there. I walked over to them and Drake entered shortly after.

"We have a little problem." He announced and our faces went down in a frown.

"What's wrong Mr Marshall?" I asked. I was the only woman in the room.

Mr Marshall paused for a while and exhaled deeply before proceeding,

"The restaurant inspector that came here the other day gave us a bad rating."

Oh, did he now? Well I wasn't surprised. There was no AC, just one waitress to attend to all the customers (I tried) and the seats and tables were worn out.

Gosh, I was really surprised that people still maintained their loyalty regardless of the terrible conditions of the restaurant.

"So what's gonna happen?" Ryan asked and we eagerly waited for his reply. It better not be what I was thinking.

"I'm afraid I'll have to reduce your salaries until the renovations are done."

"What?" So it was what I was thinking afterall.

"What do you mean 'reduce'? You pay us peanuts and now you want to reduce the salaries?" Ryan asked. He was clearly pissed.

I didn't blame him. Ryan, at thirty five years of age, was already a family man. He welcomed a beautiful baby girl sometime last year with his girlfriend.

Drake did not utter a single word but it was quite obvious that he wasn't happy either.

"Look, it's not my fault..." Mr Marshall said, in an attempt to defend himself.

"Who's fault is it then Mr Marshall?" Ryan yelled angrily, and we all looked at him in surprise. Yes he was outspoken and all, but Ryan never got angry.

Or at least we never saw him angry until now.

"Don't you raise your voice at me!" Mr Marshall warned, but he seemed a little scared of Ryan.

"Mr Marshall please...we can't afford a cut in our salaries." I pleaded. I really couldn't afford a decrease in my income.

"You know what? Fuck this, I'm done!" Ryan announced, taking off his apron.

"What?" Drake and I asked in unison.

"Ryan you are..."

"Let him go!" Mr Marshall interrupted me. "Jokes on him, because a decreased staff is just what I need anyways."

"Joke's on me? For peanuts you call salary?" Ryan asked, hysterically.

"You can take those peanuts, Mr Marshall...and shove it up your ass!"

He angrily threw the apron onto the floor.

I wanted to reason with him but he was right! And as much as I knew who Mr Marshall was, Ryan was simply putting him in his place.

Ryan walked away, banging the door behind him.

"You're gonna pay if that door breaks!" Mr Marshall yelled out.

"Jeanette." He called as he turned to face me. He looked at me for a while. Then he said:

"You're gonna have to handle the kitchen until we find a replacement for Ryan."

What? He wasn't serious.

"It's just going to be for a week or two." "I'm really low on funds..."

Was he serious?

"So you want me to handle the kitchen and attend to customers without a raise?" I asked, baffled.

"Look, if I had the money, I would have just paid someone." His fat neck moved with every word he uttered.

The selfish man!

"I'm not gonna do it."

"What?"

"I said I'm not gonna do it!" I yelled out. "What do you take us for?!"

Mr Marshall's eyes opened in surprise at my sudden outburst.

"I can see Ryan's madness has started rubbing off on you."

I looked at Drake. He still had not said anything. I gestured at him to say something. Anything at all!

He looked away when Mr Marshall turned to stare at him.

"You'll do it or not?" Mr Marshall, asked.

As much as I wanted to decline, pay day was in two days and I really needed the money.

"Fine." I replied and a triumphant smile appeared on his face. Jerk!

"Well, in that case, we should get back to work." Mr Marshall chirped happily as he walked out of the kitchen.

I turned to meet Drake and asked:

"Why didn't you say anything?"

He remained silent for a while. "I...I know who Mr Marshall is, Jeanette. It's best not to try and reason with him."

"He always thinks he's right." Drake smiled sadly. He wasn't much for conversations but I was sure that he had a lot of complaints about Mr Marshall, seeing as he was the restaurant manager and therefore the closest amongst us to work with Mr Marshall.

I need to find a place as soon as possible. I thought. This is getting out of hand.

But job hunting without a degree in New York wasn't so easy. If it was, I wouldn't have been in this shit hole for the past two and a half years.

In my first year of being in Pennsylvania, I had tried so many interviews; Clerks, Personal assistants, Receptionists, among others but nothing came with good news. They said they weren't looking for a college dropout. After much toiling, I settled for Marshall's Food House.

Mr Marshall came in after a while to give me interrogate me:

"I suspect you can cook practically everything on the menu?"

Practical? Did I look like a chef to him?

"No Mr Marshall." I replied, plainly. "I'm not a chef."

"Not to worry, not to worry. We can just say the dishes are unavailable!"

"As of now, you are to remain in the kitchen. Drake will send in the orders as usual, afterwhich you'll get it prepared and delivered to the table."

I stayed back in the kitchen like he instructed and received a bunch of orders. After moving to and fro all day, I become completely fatigued by evening.

I used up my last pinch of strength, and I dragged myself home. My house was a small studio apartment. It was small and cramped but seeing as I didn't have a very high income, I accepted the offer in good faith.

I dropped my handbag and crashed into the bed. My stomach grumbled in hunger.

I groaned and got up from the bed. When I checked the mini-fridge I groaned louder. It's empty!

I hate my life! I groaned on my bed as I stared at the ceiling.