I can’t take it anymore, Velma. I just can’t. Do you realize that there hasn’t been a single day since you started this job — and it’s been five and a half months — that I haven’t received a call from you with an excuse about how you’re going to be late or that you’re not coming at all? On your very first day, the day most people are concerned about making a good impression, you were two and a half hours late! The next day you arrived forty-five minutes late, and the third day you didn’t come at all. Yes, I know you said you had your period and your back hurt, but every month you get a period and a backache. Your second week here you called Monday morning and said your head hurt and you were too dizzy to drive. Then Wednesday you called to tell me you weren’t coming because your sister couldn’t take care of your son because she was going to Disneyland with her two children. Yes, I’m sure it was a good opportunity for her and her kids, but it was an awful inconvenience for me! I had to cancel all my plans that day! And I never know when to expect you. Yes, of course I appreciate your calling, but I’d be much more appreciative if you’d just show up. You said you wanted to work a five-day week. There hasn’t been one week when you’ve worked more than four, and lately it’s been three. Last week you called to say you had the flu on Wednesday. On Thursday you said you couldn’t come because your car was locked up in your garage and your husband took the key, and Friday — Friday your son had a bad cough and an ear infection, and you took him to the doctor. You don’t want a job, Velma. Go back home and take care of your son, your house, and the rest of your problems.
I can’t take it any more, Missus. I just can’t. Every day when I come to work, you are in the bed. Almost sometimes you stay in the bed until two and make big mess of my day. Very bad is the day I change the sheets. And how am I to clean your room when you are sleeping until two? How am I to change the sheets when you are still in them? And when I am to clean the bathroom, you tell me you need go in the shower. And on the days when you wake up early, you go to the shops and come home with many clothes and want for me to cut all the tags and fold the bags and put away. The Missus’ closet look like the big store with all the clothes matched before I leave. I am to be home with my son by four o’clock and need to meet his bus. How can I be there to meet him when you not finished applying makeup and diffusing the hair? And when you know I am waiting outside the door for you, you talk on the phone to your friends about which manicurist you like and what car is better between a BMW and a Range Rover to drive for the carpool. And yes, I know that you not happy when I need to stay home to take care of my son last Wednesday, but Missus, the plans you complain about canceling are only eyelash fill and botox appointment.
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