A FairyGirl in New York...

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Day Five

Or

I Hope You Don’t Think I’m Disgusting, But You Gotta Fix Yourself Up Lady

Or

You Gotta Go To Jamaica

In the morning, Denise, Nettie and I (Caitríona was at work) decided to find where our nearest Social Security Office was and apply for our social security cards. On went the laptop, and we discovered that the nearest office is just a few blocks away. We set off to begin our integration into American society, and found the office without much difficulty.

The lift up to the 2nd floor was a tight squeeze even for just three skinny girls. So Denise, not having a great love of lifts, decided to get out and take the stairs. Nettie and I reached the 2nd floor and waited around for a few minutes. No sign of Denise. We looked around for her, but the 2nd floor was basically just a large waiting room with a window at the end, behind which an old lady with a beehive hairdo and glasses was peering at us with interest.

“You gotta take a ticket, ladies, and wait your turn,” she instructed us in a tinny voice, even though there was nobody else in the room.
“We’re just waiting for our friend,” we replied.
Suddenly, the elevator tinged and Denise emerged looking a bit flushed with a random man.
“What happened, we thought you were taking the stairs?” asked Nettie.
“There is no stairs!” replied Denise, slightly panicked.
I think that just shows you how lazy Americans can be sometimes. They didn’t bother to put stairs in the building because they thought nobody else would bother to take them.

While she was searching for the fictitious stairs, a helpful man had come to her aid and gotten the lift with her. While they were on their way to the 2nd floor, the man turned to her and said, “I hope you don’t think I’m disgusting, but you gotta fix yourself up lady.”
Denise, as you can imagine, had no idea what he was talking about…
until she realised he was pointing at her crotch. The fly of her jeans had come undone. Denise zipped up her pants, and fled from the lift, hoping she’d never have to see him again.

As we obediently took our tickets and sat down, we were called almost instantly. We were given forms to fill out and present to her. When she saw that we were applying for social security cards for the first time, she leaned towards her little microphone and said,
“Oh ya, you gotta go to Jamaica.”
“To where?!” came our startled cries. Apparently there’s a town called Jamaica in Eastern Queens. Not confusing at all. We learned that the journey to Jamaica, Queens takes almost an hour on the subway so we decided to venture out to Jamaica another day and left the office.

On the way home the girls had to make the walk of shame past ‘Vibe’ the Greek diner they unceremoniously ditched. They ran past the diner, hands covering their faces, hoping not to get spotted by angry Greeks.

When we got home, we all got ready for work at four. The past few days at work I’ve basically just been following the other waitresses around, learning by observing and all that jazz.
“How thrilling!” you may comment. Not so I’m afraid. Although Brendan’s the boss he only pops up occasionally to check that he still has a business and then leaves again. His wife Lilly is the main waitress there and for the past few days she’s been all down to business. I’ve never waited on tables before but I’m expected to know how to do everything perfectly right away. If I forget to ask somebody how they want their burger cooked (a concept I’m not familiar with since in Ireland burgers are all cooked one way - burnt) or if I fail to offer cheese with everything, I get a quick scolding from Lilly.

But tonight I was allowed to take my first order on my own. It started off perfectly. I smiled and offered them drinks, brought them what they wanted and then began to take their food order. I thought the man had ordered a Cajun chicken salad but it turned out that he’d ordered an Asian chicken salad…I started to panic. The kitchen had taken 20 minutes to get the first order ready, how long would he have to wait before he got his dinner? Lilly was in the office so she wasn’t around but she could appear at any moment. Then Jasmin came to the rescue. She went down to the kitchen, explained what happened and then asked them to rush the order, cool as a breeze. The kitchen staff weren’t happy (they never are) but she took it all in her stride. “I’m not sure if I’m cut out for this waitressing lark”, I thought. But I got a free dinner, so I was happy.

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