Wednesday's Words on a Friday
The original Words for Wednesday was begun by Delores and eventually taken over by a moveable feast of participants when Delores had computer troubles.
The aim of the words is to encourage us to write. A story, a poem, whatever comes to mind.
If you are posting an entry on your own blog, please let us know so we can come along and read it.
This month the words are supplied by ME and can be found right here.
NEXT month, September, the words will again be supplied by Delores.
Here is my story:
In theory, someone who claimed to have never been anywhere near a kitchen, should not have been able to turn out such a delicious repast. The perfectly roasted potatoes, the succulent beef, tender greens and the delectable strawberry tarts waiting for their finishing touch, a dollop of whipped cream.
I had not been at all impressed with my previous two applicants for kitchen assistance.
Vague, not-quite-there Dee-Ann, who assured me she had obtained all the required qualifications, yet seemed incapable of keeping her overly long nails trimmed or even clean, became a quivering jelly whenever I spoke to her about the mess she left behind at every step. Clearly not suited to taking or following instructions, (classroom learning is not the same as actual practical experience,) I gave her two weeks pay in lieu of notice and practically shoved her out the door.
I suspected her qualifications had been earned via correspondence school, not through a teaching college. I sighed and placed the Help Wanted sign back in the window.
Kevin, who came swaggering in announcing he could and would do anything and everything, took umbrage the first time I questioned his methods. I soon learned that he didn't just have a chip on his shoulder over past treatment in other kitchens, he had the whole damn tree!
It took everything I had to not show a single vestige of animosity as I showed him the door. And slammed it behind him.
Feeling a modicum of desperation, (Mrs Wicks wanted the kitchen up and running in time for Christmas), again I placed the Help Wanted sign in the window.
A small, delicately built girl, Michelle had initially come in thinking I wanted a dishwasher or waitress. "I don't know nothing about cooking, but i reckon I could learn," she'd said, then proceeded to surprise me, after only one week, with this stunning lunch menu now laid out along the counter.