J O A N B A U ER

The kst thing I wanted to see taped to my bathroom mirror at five-thirty in the morning was a newspaper article entitled "Are You a Perfectionist?" But there it was, courtesy of my mother, Ms. Subtlety herself I was instantly irritated because Allen Feinman had accused me of perfectionism when he broke up with me last month. The term he used was "rabid perfectionism," which I felt was a bit much—but then Allen Feinman had no grip on reality whatsoever. He was rabidly unaware, i f the truth be known, like a benign space creature visiting Earth with no interest in going native. I tore the article off the mirror; this left tape smudges. Dirty mirrors drove me crazy. I grabbed

10 the bottle of Windex from the closet and cleaned off the gook until the mirror shined, freed of yellow journalism.^

I glowered at the six telltale perfectionist signs in the now crumpled article.

1. Do you have a driving need to control your environment? 2. Do you have a driving need to control the environment of others?

3. Are you miserable when things are out of place? 4. Are your expectations of yourself and others rarely met?

5. Do you believe i f something is to be done right, only you are

the one to do it?

6. Do you often worry about your performance when it is less

20 than perfect?

Number six had particular sting, for it was that very thing that M e n Feinman had accused me of the day he asked for his green and black lumberjack shirt back, a truly spectacular shirt that looked a lot more spectacular on me than it did on him because it brought out the intensity of my short black hair and my mysterious brown eyes. He had accused me O of numbers one through five as well, but on this last fateful day he said, "The problem with you, Jill, is that i f the least little thing goes wrong, you

1. yellow journalism: j o u r n a l i s m t h a t exp lo i ts or exaggerates t h e news t o create sensat ions and a t t rac t

readers.

W h a t qual i t ies ofthis

pho tog raph convey the

fast -paced atmosphere

o f a busy restaurant?

Explain h o w these

qual i t ies wo rk together

t o convey a specific

mood, or feel ing.

rabid (rab'Yd) adj.

uncontro l lab le ; fanatica

benign (bT-nin'j adj. goo

k ind ly

• DRAW CONCLUSiCI

Reread lines 21-25 to d r a w a conclusion aboul

t h e narrator's sense of \

self. Do you think Jiil ;

has a s t rong or a weak:

self- image? Record yoa

answer in your chart j

210 UNIT 2: CHARACTERIZATION AND POINT OF VIEW

30

can't handle it. Everything has to follow this impossible path to perfection. Someday, and I hope it's soon for your sake, you're going to have to settle for sub-par performance and realize that you're imperfect Hke the rest of us." He stormed of f like an angry prophet who had just delivered a curse, muttering that i f l was like this at seventeen, imagine what I wotdd be like at thirty.

"Good riddance," I shouted. " I hope you fmd a messy, inconsiderate girlfriend who can never find her purse or her car keys, who has no sense of time, no aptitude hi planning, and that you spend the rest ofyour adolescent years on your hands and knees looking for your contacts!"

I padded down the hall to my bedroom. I t was Sunday morning. I was due at my waitress job at the Ye Olde Pancake House in forty-five minutes. I sat on my white down quilt, saw the chocolate smudge, quick got up and brushed the

40 smudge with my spot remover kit that I kept in my top dresser drawer, being careful to brush the nap against the grain. I put the kit back in the drawer, refluffed my two white pillows, plucked a dead leaf off my philodendron plant, and remembered my second to last fight with Allen when he went completely ballistic at my selfless offer to alphabetize his CD collection with a color-coded cross-reference guide by subject, title, and artist. ©

Males.

I put on my Ye Olde Pancake House waitress uniform that I had ironed and starched the night before: blue, long-sleeved ankle-length dress, white apron, white-and-blue flowered bonnet. I could have done without the bonnet, but when you're going for the ye olde look, you have to sacrifice style. I was lucky to have this job. I got it one week after my parents and I moved to town, got hired because I am a person of order who knows there is a right way and a wrong way to do things. I replaced a waitress who was a complete disorganized slob. As Howard Halloran, the owner of the Ye Olde Pancake House, said to me, "Jill, i f you're half as organized and competent as you look, I wi l l die happy." I smoothed back my short cUpped hair, flicked a sesame seed off my just-manicured nail, and told him that I was. ^

" I have a system for everything," I assured him. "Menu first, bring water when you come back to take the order, call it in, bring coffee immediately to follow. Don't ever let customers wait." Then I mentioned my keen knack for alphabetizing condiments, which was always a bonus, particularly when things got busy, and how a restaurant storage closet should be properly organized to take fiill advantage of the space.

"You're hired," Howard Halloran said reverendy, and put me in charge of opening and setting up the restaurant on Saturday and Sunday mornings, which is when nine-tenths of all pancakes in the universe are consumed and you don't want some systemless person at the helm. You want a waitress of grit with a strategic batde plan that never wavers. Sunday morning in a pancake house is war.

I tied my white apron in a perfect bow across my back, tiptoed past my parents' bedroom, taking care not to wake them, even though my mother had taken an insensitive potshot at me without provocation.

It's not like my life had been all that perfect.

50

60

70

C H A R A C T E R TRAITS

Both t h e narrator's

m o t h e r and herformer

boy f r iend have accused

her o f perfectionism. In

w h a t ways do Jill's own

act ions and emotions

i l lust rate th i s character

t ra i t?

GRAMMAR AND STYLiI

Reread lines 47-57 j

Bauer's use o f t h e precise ^

adjectives short, dipped, |

and just-manicured |

provide ins ight into Jiil's I

personal i ty.

condiment (k6n'd8-m3ii!| n. a sauce, relish, or spice;j

used t o season food

212 UNIT 2 : CHARACTERIZATION AND POINT OiF VIEW

Did I ask to move tliree times in eighteen months because my father kept aansferred? D i d I ask to attend three high schools since sophomore

fclid I complain about being un&irly uprooted? J . . ^ . I did complain a litde. . . .

Didn't 1 figure out a way to handle the pressure? When my very roots were yanked from familiar soil, I became orderly and organized. I did things

the new towns so that people would like me and want to hire me, would ant to be my friends. I baked world-class cookies for high school bake sales, fcnif it meant staying up t i l l three A . M . ; I joined clubs and volunteered It the grunge jobs that no one wanted; I always turned in a spectacular erformance and people counted on me to do it. I made everything look easy, "ople looked up to me, or down, depending—Fm five four. And I sure didn't el like defending all diat success before dawn! ©

I tiptoed out the back door to my white car (ancient, yet spotless) and

ded for work.

frup, I tried explaining to FFugo, the busboy, must be poured slowly from the jge cans into the plastic pourers on the tables because i f you pour i t fast, you I't control the flow and you get syrup everywhere, which never really cleans . It leaves a sticky residue that always comes back to haunt you. Syrup, I told 1, is our enemy, but like Allen Feinman, Hugo was a male without vision.

; couldn't anticipate disaster, couldn't cope with forethought and prevention; let life rule him rather than the other way around, which was why /

TSonaUy filled the syrup containers on Sunday mornings—maple, strawberry, senberry, and pecan. Q

bad just filled the last containers and was putting them on the tables Horizontal rows. I had lined up the juice glasses and coffee mugs for tiraal. efficiency, which some people who shall remain nameless would call fectionism, but when the place gets busy, trust me, you want everything your fingertips or you'll lose control. I never lose control. Hugo had set : back tables and I followed him, straightening the silverware. You'd think . been born in a barn. Andy Pappas, the cook, was making the special hash

IS with onion and green pepper that people loved, ped myself far the hungry Sunday morning mob that would descend hours. I always mentally prepared for situations that I knew were

; to be stressftil—it helped me handle them right. I could see me, Shirl, Lucy the other waitresses, serving the crowd, handling the cash register.

• Howard Halloran took the money, but he was taking a long-needed nd off since his wife said i f he didn't she would sell the place out from

: him. I could see myself watching my station like a hawk, keeping the • brewing, getting the pancakes delivered hot to the tables. Do it fast, do fit—^that was my specialty, as seven o'clock. Shirl and Lucy were late, but I knew that Lucy's baby =k and Shirl was picking her up, so I didn't worry They'd been late • 1 myself was never late. I unlocked the front door, and a few customers

POINT OF V I E W Reread lines 72 -85 . How,

i f at al l , do the t h o u g h t s

a n d feel ings o f t h e

narrator change your

percept ion o f her?

Explain your answer.

POINT OF V I E W . Reread lines 8 8 - 9 6 .

Th ink abou t t h e w a y Jill's

po in t o f v iew af fects you r

impress ion o f Hugo. H o w

m i g h t t h i s passage be

d i f f e ren t if Hugo were

t h e narrator?

steel (stel) v. t o make

hard or s t rong

PANCAKES 213

120

by the window. Got diem kid seats, took then order.

"Number three.'; ^^^^ loudspeaker

Evorite coobes (cappuccino chip), picked 'oman p

brie,= and strawberries), rhought abour - - " ^ "^^^^^^^^ up

St'ottpTsSet^^^^^^^^^^

Andy was flipping pancakes on the ^ ..^

grill. I scanned my customers to make sure everyone was cared for, turned to dash into r ;

150 the bathroom quickly when a screech of tues sounded in the parking lot. I looked out the window. A lump caught in my throat. ,

A large tour bus pulled to a grinding halt.

I watched in horror as an army of round,

middle-aged women stepped from die bus

and headed toward die restaurant like hungry

lionesses stalking prey . I t was natural selection—I was as good ,

as dead. "Number diree." 160

DRAW CONCLUSION Th ink abou t Jill's

descr ip t ion o f Andy. Doe

he seem like someone

Jill w o u l d admire? Cite

evidence t o support you

conclus ion.

3;\,Yze

As you examine the

pho tog raph below,

t h i n k a b o u t w h y the

pho tographer chose t

take such an extreme

close-up o f t h e clocl<.

W h a t e f fec t does

th i s create?

2. brie (bre): a sof t French cheese.

214 UNIT 2 : CHARACTERIZATION AND POINT OF VIEW

I looked at Andy, who raised his face to heaven.

"Call them," I shrieked. "Call Shiri and Lucy! Tell them to get here!" ^ d y reached for the phone.

I tumed to the front door as the tour bus women poured in. They were all earing sweatshirts that read M I C H I G A N W O M E N FOR A CLEANER

j s fy iRONMENT. "A table for sixty-six," said a woman, laughing.

My lungs collapsed. Sixty-six hungry environmentalists. I pointed to a stack ^ f menus,-remembering my personal Waitress Rule Number One: Never let a astomer know you're out of control.

"Sit anywhere," I cooed. " I ' l l be right with you." Q

. /"Ifyou wrote the menu on a blackboard you wouldn't waste paper,"

, "Number diree." I raced back to the kitchen. Pancakes for table eight. I

layered the plates on my left arm, plopped butter balls from the ye olde butter il on the pancakes. Andy said he'd tried Shiri and Lucy and no one answered. t least diey were on dieir way I raced to table eight. The Httie giri took one

ook at her chocolate chip pancakes and burst into tears. "They're not the little ones," she sobbed.

"Oh, now, precious," said her father, "I 'm sure this nice young lady doesn't ant you to be disappointed."

I looked at the environmentalists who needed coffee. Life is tough, kid. "TeU the waitress what you want, precious."

"recious looked at me, loving die control. She scrunched up her dimples, bed her tears, and said, " I want the teeny weeny ones, pwease."

"Teeny weeny ones coming up," I chirped, and raced to Andy "Chocolate --er dollars for die brat on eight," I snatied. "Make tiiem perfect, or someone

^&u're very attractive when you get busy" Andy said laughing. "Shut up."

tie phone rang. I lunged for it. I t was Lucy calling from the hospital. Her ^had a bronchial infection,^ needed medicine. She couldn't come in, but

I was on her way she should be pulling onto the interstate now. you all right there, Jill?"

^course," I Hed. "Take care of that baby That's the most important r

Vou're terrific," she said, and hung up.

-n terafic, I told myself I can handle tiiis because, as a terrific person, I organized system tiiat always works. I grabbed two coffee pots and

to the tour group, smiHng. Always smile. Poured coffee. Theyd only get they asked. We're so glad you came to see us this morning. Yes, we

• many tours pass through, usually we have more waitresses, though. It's a let that any restaurant on tiiis earth has more waitresses than the Ye Olde •aice Mouse does at this moment. O

Q DRAW CONCLUSIONS Consider t h e d i f ference

be tween w h a t Jill Is

t h i n k i n g and w h a t she

ac tua l ly says. W h a t

does th i s ind icate abou t

her character? Explain

h o w you came t o th i s

conc lus ion.

O PREDICT

Wi l l Jill be able t o hand le

t h e crisis a t t h e pancake

house? Make a pred ic t ion

a b o u t w h a t w i l l happen

as Jill s t rugg les t o cope

w i t h t h e t e e m i n g c rowd

o f hung ry cus tomers .

'a mfection: an in fect ion o f t h e bronchia l t u b e s - t h e t ubes t h a t connect t h e w indp ipe t o the lungs.

PANCAKES 215

210

220

I took their orders Uke a shotgunner shooting clay pigeons.

Pull!

Pigs in a blanket. Steak and fried eggs. Buttermilk pancakes.

Betsy Ross (buttermilks with strawberry and blueberry compote).

Colonial Corn Cakes (Allen Feinman's favorite). , , , „

A round-faced woman looked at me, grinning. "Everythmg looks so good.

She sighed. "What do you recommend?"

I recommend that you eat someplace else, maam, because I do not have

time for this. I looked toward the front of the restauram; six large men were

waiting to be seated. Hugo was pouring syrup quickly into pourers to ^

torture me, sloshing it everywhere. I said, "Everydiing's great here maam.

ru give you a few seconds to decide." I turned to the woman m die next

booth. The round-faced woman grabbed my arm. I don't like being touched

by customers. "lust a minute. Well . . . it all looks so good. , , , "Nmnber diree." I glared in Andy's direction. "And number tiiree again. A cook can make or break you. , j • u^;^^ The round-faced woman decided on buttermilk pancakes, a daring choice. @

I ran to the kitchen window "Hi t me," Andy said. "I 'd love to. You're only getting this once. Buttermilks on ^elve. Pigs on

four, Betsy's on three. Colonials on seven." I threw the rest of t i ie orders

"You have very small handwriting," he said. "That's often the sign of low

230 I 'put my hand down in one of Hugo's syrup spills, pushed back my bangs

wi t i i it; fek syrup soak my scalp. Andy said, "You're only one person, Jill." I scanned the restaurant-juice glasses askew P - p l ^ ^ ^ ^ /

dirty tables. I could do anydiing i f l worked hard enough. Shiri would be here

any minute. . "Waitress, we're out of syrup!" A man held his empty syrup container

up I looked under the counter for the extra maple syrup containers I had

cleverly filled, started toward the man, tripped over an environmentalist s foot,

which sent the syrup container flying, caught midair, but upside down by a

240 trucker who watched dumbly as syrup oozed onto die floor m a great, sticky

glop. I lunged for die syrup container, slid on die spill, felt sugared muck coat

my exposed flesh. "Hugo!" I screamed, pointing at the disaster. Hot water. "Number three." , ,

I moved in a daze as more and more people came. Got the tour bus groups

fed and out. Had they mentioned separate checks, one woman asked.

Noooooooo . . .

Language Coach Multiple Meanings Pull

norma l l y means "the

oppos i te o f pus/i." In

c lay-p igeon shooting, its

m e a n i n g is different, At

t h e c o m m a n d "Pull!" a

clay disk launches into

t h e air. Reread lines

2 0 4 - 2 0 5 . W h a t does thi

use o f pu / /say about hoi

t h e narrator takes order

TEKS 7

S A R C A S M

Sarcasm is a cutt ing,

o f t e n i ronic remark. In

t h i s instance, Jill is beii

sarcastic by comment!

on t he /ac / ; of nerve it

t o o k fo r t h e woman

t o choose buttermili<

pancakes, which Jill fe

represent a conservat

choice f o r a breakfast

mea l . Ordinarily, a

sarcastic remark is

i n tended to wound tl

rec ip ient . Rather tha

speak ing i t aloud.Jill

keeps t h e potential!;/

o f fens ive remark to

herself. Given the co

o f t h e story so far, w|

you t h i n k she does t

216 UNIT 2: CHARACTERIZATION AND POINT OP

ng

l i

261

[ive

this

Made cofFee. More coffee. Told

everyone I was the only waitress here,

, i f they were in a hurry, they might

want to go someplace else. But no

- one left. They just kept coming,

. storming through the restaurant like

Cossacks. People were grabbing my

; arm as I ran by

"What's your name, babe?" asked

a lecherous man.

''Miss: I snaried.

"Number three."

" I had a life when I woke up this

rooming! Everything was in place!"

Buckwheats on table three.

i£:man looked at them. . . . He

aid, "You call these buckwheats?

Buclra heats are supposed to be enormous and hearty." I'm the fall guy for

" everydiing diat happens in die restaurant. It's my tip diat's floating down die

river waving bye-bye. I embraced my personal Waitress Rule Number Two: The

..customer is always right, even i f diey're dead wrong. I said, "That's the way we

lo diem here, sir," and he said he can't eat diem, he can't look at diem, he'll have

he buttermilks, not knowing die trouble he's caused me. Andy gets sensitive i f

someone sends die food back—he's an artist, can't handle criticism. You have to

lie to him or he slows down. I raced back to die kitchen.

"The man's a degenerate," I said to Andy "He wouldn't know a worid-class buckwheat i f i t jumped in his lap. He doesn't deserve to be in the presence )f your cooking."

, The phone rang. I lunged for it. It's Shiri calHng from someone's car phone on the interstate widi impossible news. A trailer truck had jackknifed, spilling soda ^ns everywhere. There was a five-mile backup. Shed be hours getting to work

Are you all right?" Shiri asked. - r looked at die line of cars puUing into die parking lot, die tables bulging widi lungry customers, die cofiie cups raised in anticipation of being filled, die line at he cash register. I heard a woman say how die restaurant had gone downhill, and • e people were looking at me like I was dieir breakfast savior, like I had all die wer and knowing, like I could single-handedly make sure tiiey were happy and t-. And I was ashamed tiiat I couldn't do it, but no one could. © Not even mel

Itore off my ye olde bonnet. "I 'm trapped in a pancake house!" I shrieked

fo the phone, and, like in all sci-fi stories, the connection went dead

timber three."

; ^ p e d toward him, a shadow o f m y former self

•We're out of sausage," Andy said solemnly

degenerate WT-jen'ar-Tt)

n. a co r rup t or vicious

person

POINT OF V IEW Reread lines 280-285.

Consider h o w learning

Jill's t hough t s contr ibutes

t o your unders tand ing

o f her character. How

w o u l d your reaction t o

Jill be d i f ferent i f y o u

d idn ' t k n o w w h a t Jill was

t h i n k i n g and feeling?

^°«acks: a people o f sou thern Russia, k n o w n as f ierce cavai ryn

300

"Good. It's one less thing to carry." I stood on the counter, put my head back, and screamed, "We're out of sausage and it's not my fault!"

A man at a back table hoUered that he needed ketchup for his eggs. I reached down in the K section under the counter. Nothing under K. I got on my knees, hands shaking, rifling through jams, jellies, lingonberries. Hugo!! shrieked.

He ran up to me.

"Ketchup, Hugo! Wake up! The sky is falling!" He pointed to the C section. "Catsup," he said meekly. I was falling down a dark, disorderly tunnel. There was no end in sight.

Coffee grounds were in my eyebrows, my hands smeUed like used tea bags. I was exhausted, syrup encrusted, I'd had to go to the bathroom for three hours. People were going to get their own coffee—the ultimate defeat for any waitress. I looked at my haggard reflection in the coffee urn. The only consolation was that I wouldn't live t i l l noon.

"Waitress!"

I raced down the aisle to table twelve, seeing the hunted look in my customer's eyes. I wanted to be perfect for every one of you. I wanted you all to like me. I 'm sorry I 'm not better, not faster. Please don't hate me, I 'm only one

310 person, not even a particularly tall person.

"I 'm sorry," I said to a table of eight, "but I simply can't do everything!" I felt a ripple of crass laughter in the air. I turned. Allen Feinman had

walked in with his parents. Q

No. . . . Anything but this.

Our eyes met. I could hear the taunts at school, the never-ending retelling of this, my ultimate nightmare.

"Can I help, Jill?" He rolled up his shirtsleeves. Allen Feinman was offering to help.

I grabbed his arm. "Can you work the register?" 320 " O f course." M e n organized the people into a line, made change, smiled. He

had such a nice smile. Thanked everyone for their patience, got names on lists. Mrs. Feinman took o f f her jacket and asked, "Can I make coffee, dear?" "Mrs. Feinman, you don't have to—" "We've always been so fond of you, Jill."

I slapped a bag of decaf in her sainted hands. Mr. Feinman poured himself a cup of coffee and went back to wait in the car.

We whipped that place into shape. Al l I needed was a little backup. M y pockets were bulging with tips, and when Shirl raced in at eleven forty-five, I pushed a littie girl aside who'd been waiting patiently by the bathroom door

330 and I lunged toward the toilet stall. Life is tough, kid.

By one-thirty the crowds had cleared. Lucy called—her baby was home and doing better. Allen Feinman and I were sitting at a back table eating pancakes. He said he'd missed me. I said I'd missed him, too. Hugo was speed-pouring boysenberry syrup, spilling everywhere—but somehow it didn't matter anymore. It was good enough.

And that, I realized happily, was fine by me.

crass (kras) adj. crude;

un re f ined

Q PREDICT Predict w h a t might

happen w i t h the arrival

o f A l i en . Give reasons for

you r predic t ion.

Language COL. idioms A n idiom is an

218 UNIT 2: CHARACTERIZATION AND POINT OF VIEW