When St. Pat's day rolls around each year I keep thinking about an old Puerto Rican woman I use to work with. She never had much money and worked for a guy who had the contract to provide coffee and donuts for us workers toiling on the over-night shift. She smoked like a chimney and was haggard looking as all of us were who worked when others slept.
She was cranky woman (as all of us working over night were) who did not seem to have any family that we know of. But, she took teasing and could give as good as she got. She would sit in a chair near the coffee and hot water urns keeping an eye on the donuts and bagels and especially the milk which seemed to be rationed for only coffee and tea. Making comments and such.
On St. Pats Day one of my co-workers would wait until she left her guard post to deliver some pastries to an office area on another floor. Once she was gone he would put green food dye into the urn that made the hot water for tea. She fly into a rage once she got back and discovered what had happened and it happened every year. She passed away must be ten years ago now but, St. Patricia Day always brings back the memory of this hard working Puerto Rican woman struggling to make a living as we all were.
No comments:
Post a Comment