|
I once had a job washing dishes at the
Blue Bird Tea Room in Carmel, California.
I worked twelve hours a day in the
kitchen. I washed all the dishes
and pots and pans, scrubbed the
floor, washed the vegetables,
crates of spinach for instance;
and if the owner came along and found me
resting, she sent me out to the back
yard to chop up wood. She paid
me a dollar a day. One day
I noticed that some famous concert pianist
was coming to town to give a recital,
and I decided to finish my work as
quickly as possible in order to get to
the concert without missing too much of it.
I did this. As luck
would have it, my seat was next
to that of the lady who owned the Blue Bird
Tea Room, my employer.
I said, “Good evening.”
She looked the other way,
whispered to her daughter. They
both got up and left the hall.
|