It's the Little Things

 

The server set the plate of food down in front of Gloria and walked away without saying a word. She stared at her plate. Steak and fries. Gloria had not ordered fries, she had ordered a baked potato. But, what was on her plate? A baked potato? No, what was on her plate was fries.

Gloria sat and fumed. Why could no one get things right? Today at work, she had specifically requested a brown manila envelope from supplies and she had been brought a white envelope instead. Did she complain? No.

Then on the way here, she had asked the cab driver to let her off as near to the door as possible since her leg hurt. He had let her off six buildings away. Again, Gloria did not complain.

This happened all the time. No one listened. They just didn’t seem to care anymore. Gloria’s server was passing the table and slowed briefly to ask if the food were to her satisfaction. Since Gloria had not taken a bite, she thought the question moot, but she answered anyway. “No, it’s not okay.” The server moved on without listening.

Finally, Gloria ate her steak. She flipped the fries, one at a time into the booth opposite her, taking pleasure as they bounced off the back of the booth to land in a variety of places: on the floor, on the seat, and some bouncing back onto the table.

People at nearby tables were watching Gloria now, throwing sideways glances, or downright staring. Gloria flipped some fries in their direction and they turned their gazes away.

Finally out of fries, Gloria fumed some more. Not only did people not listen, they were simply rude. Yesterday she had been walking home when a boy on a bicycle clipped her as he rode past. Now her leg was bruised and sore. Did the boy say he was sorry? No. He just laughed and rode on. And, earlier yesterday, Wayne, her boss, had asked her to type up a letter. She had taken special pains to get the letter perfect, and then when she took it to him for his signature, he said he changed his mind; he didn’t need the letter anymore.

The server walked by, saw the fries all over the place, and quickly moved away.

Gloria gouged the tip of her knife into the table and twisted it in place; turning it repeatedly until she had produced a nice divot in the wood surface. People at nearby tables were now hurrying through their meals so they could get away from her. Gloria did not notice.

Gloria ran the wrongs done to her over her lifetime through her head. Last year at Christmas, she had asked her mother for a green silk scarf and her mother had bought her a blue wool scarf. Billy Grafton, in first grade, had asked her to come into the cloakroom for a kiss her but he had given her a knuckle sandwich.

She wanted a dog and got a cat. She wanted to play the saxophone and got piano lessons. She wanted a skateboard and got a bicycle. Nobody listened.

Gloria had begun to saw on the edge of the table with the knife now; using the serrated edge to carve grooves along its smoothness. The server saw this and took off for the kitchen. A few moments later, the manager approached cautiously.

“Ma’am,” he began, “is something the matter here? Was the food to your liking?”

Gloria looked into his smug face and said nothing. She held the knife in front of her like a lance and stood. Then, she charged. Straight at the manager, she ran with the knife. He dodged and she ran into a table, sprawling across it before regaining her footing.

“Call the police,” the manager yelled to know one in particular.

“Arggghhh,” Gloria yelled, and charged again.

By this time, the tables had cleared of all patrons. The manager and Gloria were the only ones left in the near vicinity and he was keeping a table between them.

Penny Patton in the fourth grade had told everyone Gloria had showed her panties to Brad Woonlin when it had really been Penny who had done that. Craig Milner had told Gloria she had to ride the brown horse at a sixth grade party at a farm when she wanted to ride the pretty white one.

Gloria stabbed the knife into the air between the manager and herself.

Gloria wanted to go on a cruise but her friends didn’t, so they went to Las Vegas. Gloria wanted to live in a house but had to rent a flat in an apartment complex.

The police entered the building, and after a scuffle they managed to cuff Gloria’s hands behind her back. As they were leading her out of the building, Gloria heard her server say, “What the heck was her problem?”

Turning to look the server in the face, Gloria stated, “You should have given me a baked potato.”

The end!