"You got a car?"
"oh, yeah I do.. well it's my parents car."
"Oh so no car payments, thats nice"
"Yeah.."
Wanda is so nosy. The kid questions can be taken as small talk to spark some kind of conversation but now I feel like she is like trying to figure me out.
" What kinda car is it?"
"uhhhhh..."
Side story goes like this. When in high school I drove a mercury montaineer, my mom's old car. Plain white SUV, nothing special and I loved it. When I went away to college in Boston they sold the car. When I transferred back down to Florida I needed a car and somehow ended up with an 05 Mercedes Benz 230. This was again my Mom's old car. However I feel the need to point out we are not Mercedes Benz people. My parents got this car as a tremendous treat for their hardwork. We had never owned a car like that beforehand and haven't since it (my Mom's next car was a Honda Acura). ANYWAYS I got the car. Their logic: it was safe, better mileage, and dependable. And at this point I definitely wasn't going to complain, I mean my parent's were giving me an extremely nice car. Initially I did worry people would think I was some rich asshole, but very quickly got over it because it was a sweet car and people who know me are very much aware I'm no rich bitch with my Malt Liquor and Walmart clothes.
After my first day of work I called my dad and his first question to me was " where did you park the car, was it safe?" He asked this without knowledge of my Mother's first question to me that day "does anyone know you drive a Mercedes? did anyone see you get in it?"
Neither knew the other was just as concerned about the car. And while I completely understand their concern for the car and what some people might do to me if they know I drive a Mercedes, it was a little annoying. So when Wanda asked what kind of car I drove...
"Uhhhh..... a Corolla, Toyota Corolla"
"Hmh" Wanda shrugged and went back to boxes.
I lied about my car. Right away I realized I now needed to park even farther away just to make sure no one ever saw me getting in, not because they might "try to follow me home" according to my Mother, but because I lied! Wanda is going to hate me....
The day went as usual, though my eyes did not close up this time, but my back was just as sore. I spilled two garlic tubs while making sure the caps were on correctly (which they weren't), BUT I saved around 6 tubs from spilling, which is what Paula reminded me of to keep my garlic spirits up.
After the caps I folded the boxes, but folded too many and had to break them down right after finishing them.
On my lunch break I had some soup Becky made me which I was so excited for. Really, a little too excited for ( it kept me going through the bending down part of the line). I waited ten minutes to heat it up, found a seat next to this chubby, seventeen looking boy, who was also alone and destroying his couple days old friend chicken and started to eat. BUT, I realized I didn't pack a spoon. I almost panicked but then casually, not like I was about to cry, circled the lunch room looking for a spoon. I was willing to pick one off the floor even. No spoon. I slumped back into my chair and a single tear came to my eye. My break was almost over, I was starving and I couldn't eat my lunch. I started at the soup and felt like a fat twelve year old who just got called fat. After doing that for a while I noticed a Styrofoam cup in the corner of my eye. I jumped for it. I grabbed the cup and poured my soup it.
I drank my chicken tortilla soup in about thirty seconds, getting some on my chin which I didn't find until my ride home. I knew Wanda was looking at something.
On my last break of the day I was walking past the lunchroom heading for outside when this guy started pounding on the window facing the hallway. He wanted a cigarette. I thought well if I say yes he will think he can always get one from me. If I say no, they might just sit their and talk shit about me. I gave him one.
At four my day was over and my ripped off my hairnet and destroyed latex gloves with my fingers poking out (which I'm pretty sure defeats the purpose). I drove home and passed out.
Me, without the smile, unless it is lunchtime and I have spoon.
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