Lemme Catch You Up (Part One)

When I was little, one of my favorite books was The Little Princess by Frances Burnett. Originally, The Little Princess started out as a wildly successful children’s play called Sarah Crewe. In order to capitalize on that success, however, Ms.Burnett’s editors asked her to convert the play into a novel. In speaking of that experience, Burnett said:

I do not know whether many people realize how much more than is ever written there really is in a story— how many parts of it are never told— how much more really happened than there is in the book one holds in one’s hand and pores over…The person who writes the story may never know all of it, but sometimes he does and wishes he had the chance to begin again.

While I, of course, am no novelist, I often feel the same way. JustLetMeCatchUp is an outlet for me, a really cool way for me to share my thoughts and feelings with the world. My blog is basically just a tiny sampling of my life. There’s so much to say all of the time, however, that sometimes whole stories fall between the cracks. Quite a lot of stories have written themselves over the last couple of months, between the lines of my blog entries, that I just never got the chance to share with you.

So this is me beginning again.

1: I got Fired.

Yeah…that’s kind of an funny story. Basically, I worked at a sandwich making shop and it was pretty much the worst place on Earth. If you told me that my place of work resided above a portal of hell, I wouldn’t doubt you for a second. I worked there for about two and a half months, but In that time, I only worked one day a week. So didn’t really work for two and a half months. Sure, I clocked in every Sunday, week after week. But that left me six days to forget everything I’d ever learned. I was basically a trainee. As a result…several “comical” mistakes were made:

  • One time, I was making some sandwiches and I forgot to put any meat on the bread. As you can imagine, the customers (an entire family) was not too pleased about that. They returned, complaining loudly about my mistake. I tried to keep my shame hush-hush, but their voices carried. My fellow employees just shook their heads. 
  • Another time, My manager asked me to go get some ham from the back. Like the masterful worker I was, I had forgotten where we keep the ham. Instead of revealing that to my manager however, I decided to search for it. After all, how hard could it be to find one lousy piece of ham? Spoiler alert: SO HARD. I searched high and low for about twenty minutes, only to come up with nothing. As I was rustling around on some shelf, my manager came into the back room. Silently, he opened the fridge, moved some boxes around, pulled out a piece of ham, and left.
  • Regarding that same piece of ham: Later in the night, my manager asked me to cut the ham into slices for him. My manager had a very mumble-y, breathy, way of talking, however, so I couldn’t understand him. I just stared back at him blankly, waiting for him to repeat himself. We stood there staring at each other for, like, a minute. Finally, he looked away, to ask the worker standing next to me, “Aria, will you cut the ham?” So, you know, that was only slightly uncomfortable.
  • The Tuna Debacle: The next time I worked, the crew at my workplace were re-organizing our shelves of food. “Hey Kiana,” said my manager as he held out a giant vat of tuna “Could you hold this for a second?” “Sure!” I said quickly, eager to help. Before I could reach out and grab the vat, however, he let go, assuming I had it. Unfortunately, I didn’t have it. TUNA EVERYWHERE. My manager stared stoically at me, the disappointment evident in his eyes. After releasing a heavy sigh he said simply, “Kiana…just go get a mop.”

The day of reckoning came shortly after that. I walked into work one day, determined to make this the best day yet. I smiled at all of my co-workers, and even got up the nerve to speak to some of them. Everything was going well until one of my co-workers said, “Wait, Kiana, I don’t think you work today.” That was weird because I had never not worked on Sunday. Sure enough, my name was not on the schedule for Sunday…my name wasn’t anywhere on the schedule. We called my manager and he didn’t know anything about the situation. He gave me the number of the store’s general manager to talk to.

In my foolishness, I assumed that he had simply forgotten to put my name on the schedule. It never once crossed my mind that I was out of a job. “Hi!” I said pleasantly when the general manager answered “It’s Kiana. I was wondering why I’m not on the schedule.”

“Oh shit..” he mumbled back “I forgot to call you. Yeah…you don’t work here anymore. You weren’t…good.”

“Okay. Bye.” I said as cheerily as possible. Inside, however, I was dying from silent shame. I quickly called my mother and asked her to pick me up. I told her I was no longer working that day. My mother was not pleased.

“You missed church for work, and now you are not working?” her loud voice rang out throughout the store.

Just come get me.” I kept begging, but my mother couldn’t hear me over her deluge of rage. Eventually, I just hung up. As punishment for missing church, my mother didn’t come pick me up until the time my shift would have been over had I not of been fired.




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