Four Short Stories Whose Heroes Are Extremely Passive-Aggressive, Which You Totally Don’t Have To Read If You Don’t Want To, It Won’t Hurt My Feelings
THE TIMELY TIP
It was close to the end of Karen’s shift at The Monmouth Inn. She was clearing away her last table, and picked up the credit card slip. The signature was neatly written in perfect handwriting, “Mrs. Regina Blankenship.” But the tip was only two cents.
“This is so disappointing,” Karen said.
Her fellow waitress, Rebecca, came over to examine the tip. “Oh, yeah, old Mrs. Blankenship. You must not have gotten her a refill on her coffee. She’s done that to me before.”
“I thought I was doing such a good job,” Karen said.
“You did just fine, sweetie,” Rebecca said. “It’s just her way of letting you know you could have done better. She means well, you know.”
Karen went home at the end of her shift and thought about the two-cent tip. She went back into work the next day, determined to be a better waitress. She was more solicitous to her patrons. She made every effort to notice when they were trying to be helpful by stacking their plates. She worked harder to anticipate their needs and to make sure that they always got their coffee refilled.
The next week, Mrs. Blankenship was sitting again at one of Karen’s tables. Karen made sure not to notice when Mrs. Blankenship gave her a frosty stare at the beginning. She convinced the kitchen to make Mrs. Blankenship a club sandwich with the crusts cut off, even though it was kind of a pain for them. And she made sure Mrs. Blankenship got a second cup of coffee.
Karen was so thrilled when Mrs. Blankenship gave her a ten-percent tip this time. “I wish it were fifteen percent, but I guess she’s trying to tell me I have a long way to go before being the kind of waitress I know I can be,” she said.
THE BIRTHDAY DINNER
“Have you decided where you wanted to go for dinner for your birthday, Mother Reese?” Josh said.
Amanda Reese straightened her back in her armchair. Josh had been her son-in-law for five years now, and he still didn’t know how to handle the simplest of social situations.
“Wherever you and Melinda would like to take me would be fine,” she said.
“I thought you might say that,” Josh said.
Amanda tilted her head a fraction of a degree. She had never thought that Josh was fully as dim-witted as he appeared to be. Could it be that he was finally learning?
“So I thought about it, and did some research, and came up with three options.” Josh looked pleased with himself, although Amanda couldn’t imagine why. “First, there’s the new Thai place that opened on 206 last month. It got a very good review in the Princeton Packet.”
“I see,” Amanda said. She had never had Thai food in her life, and she wasn’t about to start.
“The second option,” Josh continued, “was the White Horse Tavern. It’s a little bit of a drive, but it’s through pretty countryside, and Melinda thought you might want to look into one of the antique shops on the same block.”
Amanda made a slight motion with her fingertips, as to encourage Josh to go on. She didn’t know if Josh could actually afford the White Horse Tavern on his salary, but she wasn’t going to turn down a nice meal there.
“Finally,” he said, “there’s the American Harbor Grill out on Route One. It is a little closer, and I know you’ve been there a few times.”
Amanda stiffened with horror. Surely Josh wouldn’t take her to the American Harbor Grill for her birthday.
“So where would you like to go, Mother Reese?”
“They all sound lovely,” Amanda said. “Why don’t you young people choose?”
“Josh,” Melinda said, “I’m not sure I’m really up for Thai food. And do you remember that Bill and Priscilla went to the American Harbor Grill with Mother last month, and the service was so bad?”
“Oh,” Josh said. “Well, I guess we ought to try the White Horse Tavern, then.”
“That would be fine,” Amanda said. She was pleased to know that Melinda, at least, knew how the game was supposed to be played.
THE TEAM PLAYER
Mark was sitting in his office when Gina came in, as he knew that she would.
“Excuse me, Mr. Parker?” she said. “Do you have a moment?”
“My door is always open for you, Gina,” he said.
“I got your memo about the team meeting on Friday,” she said.
“Oh, good,” Mark said. “I look forward to having your input on the project.”
“Well, Mr. Parker, it’s just that Monday is a holiday.”
“Thank you for letting me know, Gina,” Mark said. “It’s always nice to be reminded about dates on the calendar.” Mark hoped that Gina caught the faint tinge of sarcasm, but unfortunately for her, she usually didn’t.
“It’s just that my husband and I were planning a long weekend in the Poconos,” Gina said. “I had put in for a vacation day on Friday two weeks ago.”
“I understand that,” Mark said. “But the memo—you said you got it, right?—made it very clear that this was a mandatory team meeting.”
“We’ve really been looking forward to this chance to get out of the city,” Gina said. “Is there any way we can move up the meeting to Thursday afternoon?”
“I’m afraid not,” Mark said.
“What should I do?” Gina said.
“I think that you should decide on what’s best for you,” Mark said. “Take some time and think about what your priorities are. If you decide that your marriage is more important than your team, then by all means go to the Poconos.”
Gina’s face brightened. “I knew you’d understand, Mr. Parker. Thanks. I’m sorry to miss the team meeting, but it’s so important for us to get away right now. I’ll see you on Monday.”
Mark smiled to himself. He knew that he would be able to mark Gina down on her performance report as a result of her missing a mandatory team meeting. He was one step closer to being to tell HR that she had to be fired. It was for her own good, he thought. She wasn’t a team player.
THE THANKSGIVING MIRACLE
Audrey Prescott put the remnants of the Thanksgiving turkey in the refrigerator. Most people would have just thrown the bones away, but Audrey knew that they would make an excellent stock—much better than ordinary chicken soup. It was too bad, she thought, that younger people didn’t always take the time to think ahead. Like her daughter-in-law, Cindy.
Cindy had called her the week before Thanksgiving to ask if she could bring anything. Audrey had her Thanksgiving menu planned already, and didn’t need another dish. But it would be rude just to tell Cindy not to bring anything.
“I don’t think you should feel compelled to bring anything,” she had told Cindy. “Maybe something simple, like a nice bottle of wine.” Audrey didn’t think that Cindy knew enough about wine to pick out a nice bottle, mind you, but even if she brought a third-rate red, Audrey could use the wine to make coq au vin or something.
“Oh, no, Mother Prescott,” Cindy had said. “I really want to contribute this year.”
“Please don’t feel that you have to go to any trouble,” Audrey had told her. “Perhaps something simple, like a pie.” Surely Cindy could go to the Shop-Rite and pick out a pie.
“I know just the thing,” Cindy had said.
As it turned out, “just the thing” had turned out to be a rather large pot of corn casserole. Unfortunately, what with the turkey and the cornbread dressing, Audrey didn’t have room in her oven to re-heat the casserole. She had generously offered Cindy some microwave time, but the microwave didn’t heat up the casserole all the way, and it turned out a little runny.
And now Audrey faced the task of scooping out the casserole, and putting it in a Tupperware for Cindy to take home. She went to the cupboard for a clean ladle and had just started the chore when Cindy came over to her.
“Let me help you with that,” Cindy said.
“It’s no bother, my dear,” Audrey said. “You just run along and do whatever it was you were doing. I’ll take care of the cleaning up.”
“I just wanted to say that I was sorry,” Cindy said. “I should have realized that there was a reason you didn’t want me to bring anything. I thought it was because you didn’t think I could cook.”
“Why would I think that?” Audrey said. In fact, she didn’t think that Cindy could cook, but that, again, would have been rude.
“I realize now it was because you had your menu planned, and the casserole was just one extra dish that you didn’t have time for. I’m so sorry, Mother Prescott. I’ll try to do better next year.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” Audrey said. “You’re a dear for wanting to help. I appreciate that.”
“I was just thinking,” Cindy said, “we can have Christmas dinner at our house next month. It would take some of the pressure off you.”
“That would be lovely,” Audrey said. “Assuming that we don’t get snowy weather. It’s a little far for me to drive when the streets are slick.”
“Well, then, we’ll just plan to do Christmas here, then,” Cindy said. “If you’ll excuse me, I think Andrew is looking for me.”
Audrey smiled. She made a note to herself to give Andrew a list of wines that would go well with Christmas dinner, and then have him make sure that he and Cindy brought a bottle over instead of that ghastly attempt at a casserole. The holidays were always such a special time.
