Fiction
Axel knew the man they were talking about. She had wondered why he worked at the local
fast food restaurant. He seemed so
talented. She was from an adjacent Appalachian
town, so she only knew him from some work he had done for her neighbor and
seeing him at the restaurant usually outside cleaning the place up. He was real friendly and he had done a great
job putting up a fence for her neighbor.
She was out to lunch with her new friends who were commenting about fast
food workers who were trying to get a wage increase to fifteen dollars an hour.
“How disgraceful is that?” asked Marie. “Why would anyone without an education feel
as if they were worth fifteen dollars an hour working in a burger joint? I am dismayed. Did you see the sign that said ‘No frizs,’
bet that Humbolt put up that sign. He
can’t read, you know. Hum’s always been
dumb. He quit school in the sixth grade
and he never did learn to read or write.”
Amy shook her head in agreement as she put a sweet
potato fry into her mouth. Naturally,
they weren’t eating at the fast food restaurant. They were eating at a sit down restaurant
where one ordered from a menu and a waitress brought their meals.
“He seems like a smart man to me and I think they
are paying him for his back rather than his ability to spell. He did a great job on Josie’s fence and it
was not an easy job. So,” Axel asked, “how
much do you think this waitress earns?
She introduced herself as Candy and said that she would be taking care
of us today. How much? Do you think she is worth fifteen dollars an
hour?”
“Axel, are you saying that you think Hum or Candy is
worth that much?” Amy, who was usually so quiet, inquired.
“Yes,” Axel answered with one word.
“Why, Honey,” Marie was attempting to explain. “Why,
Honey,” she repeated, “you know no restaurant owner can afford to pay these
people that much. Why, the food would
just be out of sight. Nobody could
afford to eat out.”
Amy broke in, “And, they just aren’t worth that
much.”
“How much are they worth?” Axel asked.
Amy continued, “Well, the owner pays them some in
restaurants like this and then depending on their service they get tips. I know they earn good, and in fast food
restaurants I hear that some of them already are getting nine dollars an
hour. That is more than minimum
wage. That seems like enough to me.”
“How much do you earn Amy working for Private
Medical Insurance? Aren’t you a billing
clerk?”
“Not that it is any of your business, but I
graduated from Tech and I earn twelve dollars an hour.”
Axle probed, “You think that is enough?”
“No,” Amy admitted as she hung her head.
“What about you Marie, what do you earn being the
receptionist for that bunch of lawyers?”
“I earn fourteen dollars and fifty cents an hour,
but I’ve been there six years. I started
out at eight dollars an hour.”
Axle just bluntly stated, “I do not think that
either of you are earning enough and I do not think that fast food workers, or
other restaurant workers or, in fact, workers in general are earning enough.”
“Sh, Axel, you can’t say that. Someone,” Amy said looking around the
restaurant hurriedly to see who was there, “might hear you. We could lose our jobs.”
“Just saying,” Axel continued quietly, “I think that
people who go out and give a solid days work should get a fair days pay that is
enough so that they can keep a roof over their heads, their utilities paid,
food in their houses, clothes on themselves and their kids and keep some kind
of a car running. You know, at least the
basics.”
“You forgot about car insurance, medical insurance
and taxes. It sure would be nice to go
out to eat more than once a month—if that, and to order what you wanted off the
menu rather than the cheapest thing on it,” Marie added.
“Wouldn’t that be something,” Amy agreed.
Candy came back to the table once again to see if
they wanted refills on their sweet tea.
Axel had counted and she had come to the table seven times. She came back an eighth time to bring their
separate checks. Then a ninth time to
bring their change. She had been serving
them for an hour and a half.
When they got up to leave Axel noticed that both Amy
and Marie each left their server one dollar and some change which was about a
seven percent tip. Axel left ten dollars
which was more than the base price of her lunch special. Unbeknownst to her companions she had been a
waitress many times through high school and later as a second or third job to
make ends meet and to feed her kids before she got her college degree and her
good job. So, as a small mission she always
tried to help her sisters-of-serve get just a little more than they were
expecting. She had been lucky so she
could do at least that much. She was, however, unsure if their combined tips
and what the woman earned at the restaurant added up to fifteen dollars an
hour. She hoped that it did.
As she was driving home she passed the sign once
again. Someone had changed it and it
read, “Sorry, no fries.” She remembered
the days of getting up to be at work by four-thirty A.M. to cook four-hundred
and fifty biscuits at a fast food restaurant.
She still felt like Hum and all the other low wage workers should be
paid a fair price for their labor, but she felt sad because she knew that she
was in the minority.
©Patty F.
Cooper, Elizabethton, TN, September 8th, 2014
All Rights Reserved
