the $7-some - for a six-ouncer - kept out most the free-queues. Ellen typed a response into her laptop. With enough time before an upcoming meeting, she had ordered a sandwich. An email popped into her in-basket. She saw who it was from, and would respond a bit later - per the title, let alone any of its contents, the subordinate was becoming a bit familiar. Later, perhaps, following the meeting, Ellen would have a little talk with the clerk's boss.
Ellen's stomach let out a soft groan, but loud enough to cause her some embarrassment - a suit, from a nearby table, glanced over. She continued with her work.
Ellen had come a long way, over the past few years. She now occupied one of the corner offices - thanks to a little jittery here, and a little more pokery over there. It was as if, the career path went all clear, not long after that particular Monday; the one on which Joyce didn't show up for work. Typical n*, Ellen still scoffed.
Never mind, Dear Reader, Joyce had been with the firm for about 30 years, and the only other time she had neither shown, nor called was when her husband had suddenly passed. Needless to say, Joyce had been a mess for awhile, but her co-workers had her back. Thing is - and any of us would be astounded at the rather sudden changes, not long after the disappearance. And yeah, it's not wise to either capitalize, nor put quotes around that d* word - sometimes, web-bots seem to get carried away. Anyway, our villain hasn't had a bite since around 6am.
The plain-brown-wrapper finally arrived. Without looking up, Ellen noticed a red sliver with white on top. "I SAID, NO TOMATO OR MAYO. ARE YOU DEAF?"
The plain-brown murmured a fear-full apology.
"Well, take it back, and bring me a LIGHTLY TOASTED bagel with some LOW-FAT cream cheese. Can you MANAGE THAT, without FU...?" Outside, a jackhammer drowned out the obscenity, with was followed up by a certain two-syllabled blasphemy. "AND make it snappy!"
"Yes maam." The tired waitperson scurried away.
By the way, Dear Reader, back in '23 - maybe '24 - in this very same location, a similar outburst had taken place. Difference then, and now, was striking. Then, most of the other patrons were upset with the patron voicing a tantrum over what! A stupid sandwich. Back then, it was usual for atleast one or two of the other diners to voice a "Dude, (or dudess) what's yer problem?" But that was then. The other patrons either ignored the scene, or snickered a bit - at the waitperson's expense...of course.
An economist-wannabe, slouched at a corner table piped up something along the lines of ..."gedda bot." Shure! That, Dear Reader, was the proverbial, six-of-one, and a-half-dozen-of-the-other - a very telling statement. While America still used the old English form of measurement, more than a few had to stop a moment, and think about what constituted a dozen.
In short, the typical person living during the pandemic, would have been surprised at everyday life a decade and some after covid. For one thing, the whys, and the hows the thing started...? Well, nobody really cared. The guy or gal stepping off the time-machine, would notice - that, on the surface, things appeared the same. No cars and trucks flying above; no touring out to Jupiter, or beyond. People still carted around their laptops, and texted on their smart-phones.
Downtown Haarsburg happened to be noted for a certain school, one which about any parent would have been proud of their child's attending. The school boasted of - get this - an 80% graduation rate.
One change, however, was the birthrate. Down around .8-ish - statisticians weren't projecting any improvements any time soon.
Back in the employees' restroom, just off from the kitchen, the waitperson glanced in the mirror. A spot right in the middle of his forehead. He wrinkled one side of his lips. "Did people purposely step on ketchup packets?" He dampened a paper towel, and wiped it off. "Silly question." His left hand, however, had a mark which no amount of soap and water could ever remove. A stupid tat he had gotten...well, he couldn't recall, except it had been, back in the day, at some weekend keg-party.
No comments:
Post a Comment