Dear Roger

 

 

Boy, do I miss you.

Life at the store just hasnít been the same since you sold it Ė especially for a woman like me.

I know what you said six months ago, but itís gone from bad to worse since then.

The new boss doesnít understand why I canít read or write, or how Iím a little slow at picking up on new things.

Thatís why Iím having Billy write this letter for me.

You remember how I was with you and I remember how you always took a little extra time with me, showed me exactly what you wanted.

After a few times, I could do it as good as anybody.

Sure, I worked hard for the new boss, but it just didnít seem to pay off the way you said it would.

I did everything I did for you: sweeping the floors, cleaning the counters and a lot of other things he wanted done.

No matter how hard I worked, he wouldnít trust me.

Maybe he thought I was some kind of spy for you since I praised you so much.

Maybe he really believes Iím as stupid as he says I am.

He was always calling me stupid, and in front of the other workers, too.

Maybe I deserve some of it; I know Iím slow.

But it got to the point that he blamed me for anything that went wrong in the store, my fault or not.

I tried to explain to him about my little problem, how I get letters and numbers mixed up whenever they get written down. I said if he told me things carefully, I could learn as well as anybody.

Heís the one who wouldnít listen.

He even encouraged other workers to make fun of me.

Then, the other day, he pushed me too far, laughing as he called me stupid over a mistake I didnít make.

I snapped and told him to shut the fuck up.

I said if anyone was stupid, he was and so were the people he was letting make fun of me.

They were all mean people which made any mistake I made far less serious than what they did.

The boss didnít like that one bit and told me to get the hell out of his store.

He said I was nothing but a stupid bitch and that he should have fired me the day after he took over the store and saved himself a lot of headaches.

He said I was the worst worker heíd ever seen.

Well, I wouldnít leave until he took that back because you and I both know it isnít true.

He got so angry he shoved me towards the door, which only riled me more.

I started to scream at the top of my lungs, saying how he shouldnít go hitting a woman.

He got scared.

But that didnít help things much.

He kept shouting for me to shut up, and when I wouldnít, he grabbed me, covered my mouth with his hand, and shoved me out the back door.

Sure, I went to the police.

They told me later not to bother pressing charges because no one who saw the incident would admit he laid a hand on me.

Itís my word against the bossí.

They also said even if I did press charges, the boss wouldnít get much more than a fine.

The police looked at me as if I was stupid, too.

So now Iím out of a job and the bills are piled up.

No one wants to hire me because I canít read or write.

Iím contacting you because you once said if you got your store up and running, I could come work for you again.

I know Floridaís a long way away, but I donít have much here for me, just a bunch of people who keep calling me stupid all the time.

 


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