Georgina is a bleached-blonde 45-year-old mother who used to work with me at my summer job. The skin on her face is dry, her eyebrows dark, her legs are pale and full of cellulite and blemishes. She wore cheap clothes, those that are mainly unusable after the first week of wear. Georgina smoked cheap cigarettes and had imperfect yellow teeth. Every time we would do things together (things like chopping onions or folding napkins), she would start a conversation mentioning things that I, as her onion-chopping “coworker” could relate to, in an attempt to make a friend, I guess. She was almost like a mother figure, except her attempts to make us feel better during the days that the restaurant was at its busiest were in vain. The coffee she would bring was terrible and cold, the advice and pieces of wisdom she would give were tacky, the statement that snails scream when you drop them into boiling water was a lie.

Apart from her three days working at the restaurant, she also cleaned houses and delivered newspapers.

I wonder where she is now.

One thought on “9/24/2017”

Leave a Comment: