It wasn’t fair. In all her travels, and there had been many within the city of Idaho Falls, Idaho, Ms. Virginia Bean had never stopped for much more than a “fair share” moment. It wasn’t that silence wasn’t a good thing; it’s just that silence of any kind wasn’t for Ms. Virginia Bean and she could prove it.
Today, as in every day, she’d worked longer than necessary putting on her makeup, and more time than expected cleaning her house and organizing her day so that others would see how good she looked even when she was away. She’d prayed, yes, but it was always one of those quick dose methods, those that kept her in the black with the Lord and out of the red with her own guilty conscience.
She left the house at half past eight, journeyed to her job at the Regal Doughnut Factory and placed her feet smack dab on the spot where she’d stood for ten not so glorious years. She’d tried to make them glorious, of course, and her hands had proved faster and quicker than most; still, after a long day of standing and an even longer evening of cleaning up, she was ready for a vacation.
At least that’s what she told herself.
Unfortunately, on this blistery summer day in early August, Ms. Virginia Bean got just what she needed but didn’t want.
A firing, of sorts, happened that day; the factory was closing down, or, at least, losing some ground and opening up in New York, far across the country from Ms. Virginia Bean.
The job opportunity, if you could call it that, was no longer a stone’s throw away, and Ms. Virginia Bean was determined to find another career to her liking and so she’d gone walking in the hot air to find it. She’d left her two bedroom home without a formal jacket and had put up her blond hair in a loose bun, an elegant style that made good use of her fragile face. She could already feel the make-up’s foundation warming against her fair skin as she walked, fine lines of sweat finding its way from her neck and onto her beautifully constructed green chemise blouse, but she continued forward. It wasn’t like her to stop.
At the light she turned right and tried to ignore the bleating of someone’s horn. Either it was a male well-wisher or she’d stepped in front of someone’s perfectly manicured car. Ms. Virginia Bean liked to think of cars being well manicured, or sloppy, as the case may be, and she was determined that if she could not afford a car of the first variety, she wouldn’t drive her car at all. The rest, shall we say, is history.
Today, Ms. Virginia Bean had an interview with a fellow by the name of Frank Spurt; a funny name for a gentleman purporting excellence in his purified drinking water company. Western Falls was the name, after the bit more classic state name and city of “Idaho Falls,” and bottled water was Mr. Spurt’s game. Ms. Virginia Bean liked water; she drank it all the time, even when she didn’t need to. But drinking water was good for Ms. Virginia’s skin and she knew that she’d look that much younger down the road if she continued to drink it by the bucketfuls. And so she did.
Though she’d had no experience in working at a bottled water company, Ms. Virginia Bean knew about standing on her feet for long hours; and about relieving the customer of his/her unwanted burden that would only cause more problems to the manufacturer if she happened to miss the defect. Ms. Virginia Bean had all the knowledge she frankly needed, or so she reasoned. She was positive she’d get the job and that her past experience would glean the trust the boss would need to hire her. With an added boost of courage, Ms. Virginia Bean walked into the glowing building and looked around.
Thank heavens for air conditioning! The place was spotless, sort of like her home, only better. There were glass tables without a mark on them, and shiny floors without a scratch, and alongside the wall, real plants that needed to be watered. What a joy!
