Post by Faerlain on Jan 24, 2006 17:13:18 GMT -5
Just a little something I wrote up for the Teen Arts Festival. Any opinion/advice/comments are welcome. And yes, it's partially based off of events in my own life, though I don't think you can tell that.
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What’s in a name? This was a question posed by William Shakespeare in the play Romeo and Juliet. It’s got to be at least a couple centuries old. But, you know, I don’t think anyone has quite managed to answer it. It’s something that was decided by your parents before you were even born, and hence something that you have little control over. Except for one thing…
“Kathleen… Kathleen… Kathleen!!” I was temporarily startled out of my miniature daydream by my manager, Ben. It’s KATHIE. Please. Call. Me. Kathie. I can’t ever remember a time when he had actually called me by my nickname. Kathleen was the name on my working papers, and he had called me that ever since the day he’d hired me.
“Yes, Ben?” I replied, turning around to find him waving a dishcloth in my face. Once again, this was not a surprise to me. This usual dishcloth-waving-ritual would be followed by an extensive rant on how we needed to get sales up or something along those lines. I mentally braced myself.
“There’s a spill on Table fourteen. Some old lady managed to knock a whole pot of coffee onto her lap.” He said, tossing the cloth at me as I scrambled to catch it before it got my shirt wet. “And Kathleen, do you know that the cash register came up fifty cents short yesterday? I was just wondering if you might have had anything to do with that..”
I really tried my hardest not to roll my eyes as I picked up a bucket of cleaning fluid and a mop in addition to the dishcloth. Of course I knew what happened. I was the one who usually worked the register, in addition to the ten other jobs I was being paid minimum wage to take care of.
“A kid was short fifty cents on his bill.” I said with a sigh, starting to walk towards table fourteen. “I helped him out a bit. It’s only fifty cents.” Ben gave me his hardest stare in return, shoving his hands roughly into the pockets of his apron.
“Yes, but don’t you know that sales are down again? We can’t just be giving fifty cents to every poor little boy who forgot to get enough money out of his piggy bank!” By this point in time, I had already turned my back to him and was well on my way to the aforementioned table.
“You know, Ben…”I muttered through gritted teeth. “My name is Kathie. Kathie. Not Kathleen. Just Kathie.” He was already out of hearing range as I said this, so it was entirely a waste. I’d tell him next time.
Saying that someone had spilled coffee was a huge understatement. That poor old grandmother had smashed the coffeepot, allowing at least a gallon of coffee to spill out all over the table. Shards of glass and plastic everywhere, and I had neglected to pick up a pair of plastic gloves on my way. So I painstakingly proceeded to pick up every piece of glass by hand, and then mop all the coffee up.
It took me a half hour. Once I was done, I proceeded to go behind the counter and collapse against it. Only two more hours left. Now, since it was quite and Ben was nowhere to be seen, I could return to daydreaming. So… about that name business…
“Kathleen, I’d like a word with you.” Not again. I didn’t even bother protesting as Ben led me into the back room and sat me down in one of the hard plastic chairs. I crossed my hands delicately in my lap and awaited whatever praise he was about to let loose upon me. After all, I had done more of my share of work today. I was one of the best employees. Maybe he was going to give me a raise…
“Kathleen… you’re fired.” He said, passing me a sheet of paper. “Here’s the paper you need to sign, and your last paycheck. It’s just not working out. You don’t fit in here.” I was floored. My hand unconsciously signed my name on the line as he’d asked, and I then picked up the paycheck and left the room without saying a word. I chucked my apron down on the cash register as I left, and resisted the urge to give the door a hard kick on my way out.
What’s in a name? A rose by any other name might smell as sweet. I realized that I didn’t need to be around people who couldn’t even bother to call me Kathie. What’s in a name? Well, let me tell you. It’s a lot more than most people could ever imagine.
----
What’s in a name? This was a question posed by William Shakespeare in the play Romeo and Juliet. It’s got to be at least a couple centuries old. But, you know, I don’t think anyone has quite managed to answer it. It’s something that was decided by your parents before you were even born, and hence something that you have little control over. Except for one thing…
“Kathleen… Kathleen… Kathleen!!” I was temporarily startled out of my miniature daydream by my manager, Ben. It’s KATHIE. Please. Call. Me. Kathie. I can’t ever remember a time when he had actually called me by my nickname. Kathleen was the name on my working papers, and he had called me that ever since the day he’d hired me.
“Yes, Ben?” I replied, turning around to find him waving a dishcloth in my face. Once again, this was not a surprise to me. This usual dishcloth-waving-ritual would be followed by an extensive rant on how we needed to get sales up or something along those lines. I mentally braced myself.
“There’s a spill on Table fourteen. Some old lady managed to knock a whole pot of coffee onto her lap.” He said, tossing the cloth at me as I scrambled to catch it before it got my shirt wet. “And Kathleen, do you know that the cash register came up fifty cents short yesterday? I was just wondering if you might have had anything to do with that..”
I really tried my hardest not to roll my eyes as I picked up a bucket of cleaning fluid and a mop in addition to the dishcloth. Of course I knew what happened. I was the one who usually worked the register, in addition to the ten other jobs I was being paid minimum wage to take care of.
“A kid was short fifty cents on his bill.” I said with a sigh, starting to walk towards table fourteen. “I helped him out a bit. It’s only fifty cents.” Ben gave me his hardest stare in return, shoving his hands roughly into the pockets of his apron.
“Yes, but don’t you know that sales are down again? We can’t just be giving fifty cents to every poor little boy who forgot to get enough money out of his piggy bank!” By this point in time, I had already turned my back to him and was well on my way to the aforementioned table.
“You know, Ben…”I muttered through gritted teeth. “My name is Kathie. Kathie. Not Kathleen. Just Kathie.” He was already out of hearing range as I said this, so it was entirely a waste. I’d tell him next time.
Saying that someone had spilled coffee was a huge understatement. That poor old grandmother had smashed the coffeepot, allowing at least a gallon of coffee to spill out all over the table. Shards of glass and plastic everywhere, and I had neglected to pick up a pair of plastic gloves on my way. So I painstakingly proceeded to pick up every piece of glass by hand, and then mop all the coffee up.
It took me a half hour. Once I was done, I proceeded to go behind the counter and collapse against it. Only two more hours left. Now, since it was quite and Ben was nowhere to be seen, I could return to daydreaming. So… about that name business…
“Kathleen, I’d like a word with you.” Not again. I didn’t even bother protesting as Ben led me into the back room and sat me down in one of the hard plastic chairs. I crossed my hands delicately in my lap and awaited whatever praise he was about to let loose upon me. After all, I had done more of my share of work today. I was one of the best employees. Maybe he was going to give me a raise…
“Kathleen… you’re fired.” He said, passing me a sheet of paper. “Here’s the paper you need to sign, and your last paycheck. It’s just not working out. You don’t fit in here.” I was floored. My hand unconsciously signed my name on the line as he’d asked, and I then picked up the paycheck and left the room without saying a word. I chucked my apron down on the cash register as I left, and resisted the urge to give the door a hard kick on my way out.
What’s in a name? A rose by any other name might smell as sweet. I realized that I didn’t need to be around people who couldn’t even bother to call me Kathie. What’s in a name? Well, let me tell you. It’s a lot more than most people could ever imagine.