M is for Myg

I went to see the manager at the Wawa. I’ve been steering clear of the place, too many temptations. And it’s a piss-poor excuse for a bodega, like most of the crap in this new land–all about convenience and speed. But business is business.

“You know a young woman named Mygdala? Came in here looking for a job?”

“That one?” she said. “I wouldn’t put her on a register if she was my sister. I told her she should try at the motel–maybe they’ll let her clean the pool.”

An image of the cashier’s face bouncing off the register flashed through my mind. Her spouting off about family and Myg like she knew anything at all was an offense to the Holy Mother herself.

I could see she didn’t cop to the skinny. “You wanna keep selling scratch-offs?” I told her. “Honor thy mother.” She blanched.

The manager grumbled. “Okay. She can start Monday,” she said.

That was more like it. I almost smiled.

Then I got the call. “She wants to see you,” he said. It was my turn to start shaking.

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This entry was posted on Wednesday, August 1st, 2007 at 9:16 am and is filed under Met a stranger, Pauly, Second Life.