Kia's Biehshah Gift

Part 1 Failed Again

No jam? I got the empty jar and scraped it with my last piece of bread. Hard to face retail on a nearly-empty stomach.

My phone startled me and I dropped the jar. Which shattered. My thumb hit the wrong spot and hung up on the caller—my boss? Uh boy. It's 8 am already? But I had to laugh at that stupid picture with her mouth open. Her daddy's money helped her start Crafts Anonymous. Customers evaporated during COVID. Except people who don't like masks. Fusses when I wear mine.

It rang again. "Hey, Pat, what's up?"

"You got a lot of nerve hangin' up on me! Didja know I was callin' to fire ya?"

"Whoa—wait—fire me? Why?"

"You worked for Betty last night knowin' you'd go over 40. We don't pay over—"

"I didn't go over—"

"'Cause you worked for Tom Saturday!"

"Pat, Kathey begged me to come in 'cause she couldn't—"

"Kathey's just the Night Manager. I own this company. And, I say, you're fired." Click. And, my job at Crafts Anonymous is now history. For working when they needed me? Like I need a third job, anyway? Tomorrow, I'm working all day at Jason's Hardware.

I went and splashed some water in my face. That lifeless brown hair's getting a bit of silver at my temples. Still look young. Only 32. But, dark circles under my blue eyes make me look older. What I'd give, to just slow down and go on a nice date with someone. In my dreams. These jeans are too tight because I gained weight over the holidays. Exercising makes my back hurt worse.

Since I had time now, a whole day, I'll watch some SETI news. I put on CNM.

"It started early, before sunrise. First, a sequence of prime numbers. Then, they started sending a treaty for the UN. It appears the aliens want Earth to join a trade network covering seven galaxies. Here's Marty Essenger to tell us all about it. Marty—"

My phone rang again. "Kia, I need ya. Nancy came in drunk this mornin'."

I rolled my eyes. "Kathey, Pat just fired me."

"Well, I'm rehirin' ya—"

"She says I'm over 40 this week as of last night."

"Yeah, and I'm havin' her business when William gets done. Hear that?" I heard vague male yelling.

Last time he did that, he didn't offer to buy it for her. "You know she'll tell his wife if he gets it for her, don't you?"

Didn't wait for her to recover. Hung up. Like she would sell to him. Waiting for the fella with the thick Indian accent to offer her more money. I think he's about done with her games. I'm done with my little soap opera job. Just, done!

I turned off an ad and looked for another story. More political mumbo. My tummy's rumbling.

Maybe there's something under that ice in the freezer. Hmm. Corn dogs? Why not?

I put one in a dish and ignored the ice crystals.

My phone rang. Again? Oops, Carla! "Hi, how ya doin'?" What I wouldn't give to be thin as her.

"Don't how ya doin' me, kid. Yer in trouble."

"What?"

"You closed Tuesday, right?"