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Fiction Short Story

by Mary Morris

Mrs. Kendall

Mrs. Kendall grumbled from within her cubicle again. Julie tried to shut her ears and concentrate. She was good at her job but right now, she couldn’t settle down. Instead, she dreaded Mrs. Kendall’s predictable behavior. Sure enough, a few seconds later, an untidy mop of gray hair popped round the partition. “Help me with this, dear,” Mrs. Kendall demanded.

Julie took a deep breath. The woman had been on the job for two months now, and she’d asked Julie for help every day since moving into the cubicle next door. It wouldn’t have been so bad, but she never learned, and she tended to question whatever she was told, and get angry when she didn’t understand.

The woman was a constant irritation, and to make matters worse, each day, she barely arrived on time and took ages to settle down. Yesterday, she left early, while Julie caught up on work she’d neglected while helping her co-worker.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Kendall. I’m very busy today. I just can’t take time to show you—again,” she added under her breath.

The old woman looked at her in wide-eyed dismay for a moment. Then she slipped behind the wall into her cubicle. Julie sighed. She was soon absorbed in her work and had accomplished a great deal when her email flashed a reminder about the Halloween party. Tidying her desk, she felt pleased. Now she had time for food and soft drinks and a welcome break from the daily grind.

As she passed Mrs. Kendall’s cube, Julie glanced in and saw the old woman staring at the computer screen. Mrs. Kendall’s hands were clenched, and Julie could see by the symbol at the bottom of the monitor that the screen was locked.

“Hit the escape button, then the screen will clear,” Julie called out.

Mrs. Kendall started guiltily. “I think my computer’s bad,” she said, ungraciously. “It’s always locking up.”

“Anyway, it’s time for the Halloween party.” Julie said. “Are you coming?”

Mrs. Kendall looked up in surprise. “Oh, no, dear,” she said. “They never ask me to anything.”

“Of course you were asked,” Julie said sharply. “Did you check your email?”

Mrs. Kendall blinked. Julie leaned over and tapped the keyboard. Pages of emails scrolled down. “You have to check them every day.” Julie opened up the invitation to the Halloween party. “There,” she said. “There’s free food and soda, and we can take extra lunch time.”

Mrs. Kendall brightened up immediately. “You going there now?” she asked, getting up.

###

Pot-roast, sandwiches and soft drinks were laid out in the lunchroom. Julie enjoyed herself until a wrinkled hand clutched at her sleeve. “Come and sit down, dear,” Mrs. Kendall said. “Relax. I don’t know where you young people get your energy from. Mrs. Kendall sighed. “Nice to be able to rest,” she said, for all the world as if she’d been working non-stop since dawn. The perennial frown softened and she looked almost cheerful. “Thanks for the help, love,” she said while sipping her soda. “I suppose you must be fed up with me, asking all those questions.”

Julie didn’t know what to say.

“I know I’m a nuisance,” Mrs. Kendall continued. “But I need this job.”

“You know, Mrs. Kendall,” Julie told her, “you have to listen. I don’t mind helping, but sometimes it seems as if you just don’t want to learn.”

“I do, I do,” Mrs. Kendall said. “And my name’s Amy, by the way.”

“OK, Amy, you have to work with the computer, not against it. There are Help screens, and manuals, and....”

“I know,” the old woman interrupted. “But I don’t have time. There’s so much to do.” She paused. “You know,” she said. “That’s just what my granddaughter tells me. Work with the computer, not against it.”

She smiled. “Bright as a button, that one is. She could use the computer before she could read. She could click on those—what do you call them—icons, and when the little box came down, she knew where to put the arrow. Couldn’t read, but she always made the right choice. Eight years old, now, and she can use the computer better than I can.”

“You sound like you’re really involved with your granddaughter.”

“Oh, yes. I look after her every night when my daughter goes to work at the bar. That’s why I can never stay late.” She picked up a bagel and bit daintily into it. “Sesame seeds get under my teeth,” she said, and they sat in silence for a moment.

“You know, “ Mrs. Kendall said suddenly, “Janet, my granddaughter, could do my job better than I can. Sometimes I think I’m going senile. But, really, it’s a generational thing. All you kids grew up with computers, VCRs and cell phones.”

“So, why did you decide to come back to work?” Julie asked.

The old woman’s face went blank. She stared silently at her plate.

Julie munched nervously on a sandwich. “At least I’ve found a way to shut her up,” she thought ruefully. Minutes went by, and Julie started to get up.

“My husband died,” Mrs. Kendall said suddenly. “There was some problem with the retirement fund, and my daughter, well, she can’t cope. Little Janet’s a treasure, but she needs things, like decent clothes.” The old lady trailed off. “I’m still in good health. I don’t look sixty-six years old.” She peered anxiously around. “Don’t tell anyone my age. I’m in enough trouble here already.”

The party began to break up, and they walked back to their cubicles.

“Well, that was a nice break,” Amy said, smiling. “I’ll finish my stuff up now.”

“It’s really not that difficult, Mrs. Kendall," Julie began.

“Amy,” Mrs. Kendall interrupted. “Sorry, I’m always doing that, aren’t I? I know I’m not a very good listener, except for Janet. I can listen to her for hours.”

“Mrs.—Amy,” Julie began.

Amy shook her head. “I worked in an office for fifteen years before I got married. Made supervisor. Of course, we didn’t have computers then. Everything is so fast nowadays.”

“Amy, maybe if you weren’t so anxious.”

“I know, I know. Stupid of me, really. It’s just that I think I should know all this. After all, I’ve had fifteen years experience. But look at you. You can type faster than I can talk, and that’s saying something.” She stopped suddenly. “I’ve done it again, haven’t I? Not listening.”

Before Julie could reply, she went on. “You know, funny thing is, I listen to my granddaughter. I suppose it’s because I’m not trying to impress her. She taught me what little I know about the computer.”

They stopped at the cubicles, and the old woman smiled ruefully. “I’ll start on my work now. At least I know how to reset the screen.”

Julie went into her office, picked up her chair and carried it into the older woman’s cubicle. “Watch closely,” she said. “Ask questions later.”

“Oh, sure,” Amy began.

“Pretend,” Julie said firmly, “that I’m your granddaughter. The one who knows about computers. The one you always listen to. You do that, and I’ll start from the beginning, and I’ll teach you once and for all how to work this thing.”


About the Author
Mary was born in Los Angeles, CA (one of the few native daughters), many years ago. She loves to write, travel, and cook.