C.V.3

I never lavendered a dish growing up or learned to boil a bean, was flippantly unequipped to live an independent creature, even when I went away to school I just tossed my dirty underwear to the laundry woman so when I left home after I got kicked out of college and moved in with Geoffrey who had just broken up with his girlfriend Isolde (I wished I had a great name like Isolde) I was a little surprised to be hired right away as a clerk by an import-export company way downtown on Canal Street where all the employees were female except for the warehouse stevedores and the bosses who strutted around in Italian suits — the women worked in one big room wearing lipstick and eye shadow and silk dresses, typing with flying polished fingers — you could just see them taking time each morning to groom themselves perfect, to ride the subway, to sit in the office, but I didn’t type, Marie from Queens who was leaving to get married but agreed to stay two more weeks taught me how to organize invoices that came in packs of six, each page a different color separated by carbon paper, I learned to tear the pages off neatly, discard the carbons, sort by color, stab the copies onto spindles, and enter the numbers from the invoices into a weighty ledger — wouldn’t you know it, on the first day by myself while Marie was at home trying on her wedding dress, I looked around my cubicle and thought I am sorry but this is not the place I want to be so I quit and then to top it all off a few days later I walked into Geoffrey’s apartment and he and Isolde are sitting on the couch holding hands, Geoffrey says Isolde and I are back together and she’s moving in, would you please find another place to stay tonight.

 

About Karen To and Fro

Everything you didn't want to know about me!
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