Continuing Chance
Copyright© 2014 by Old Man with a Pen
Chapter 5
I hung a notice on the 'Student Employment' board at both schools, Otago and King Edward Tech.
YARD WORK
Trim our Jungle
HOUSE HELP
I can't keep up
We Probably Pay Too Much
349 Leith
Across the bottom were tear-off phone number strips.
We didn't get one call. After week I put up another. The jungle was, however, doing its thing. Very well, I might add.
Remember this is 1960.
In the middle of the night, the phone rang. I didn't hear it, but old eagle ear did. Grace shook me, "Answer that."
With a groan ... or two or three or six, I got up, padded barefoot down the hall, down the stairs, into the kitchen, got a drink of water, drank it, picked up the ringing phone and got a dial tone.
A quick trip to the bathroom, as quick as a healthy young man with a full bladder can make it. I had just started to pee and the phone started up again.
"Answer the fucking phone!" hollered Grace.
Stopping in mid stream? Not on your life. "I'm busy."
"God, do I have to do everything?"
Pad, pad, pad, Ring ring ring. "OW! Fucking Chair!" Ring, ring ring. "WHAT?"
"They WHAT?"
"White folks don't do yard or house work?"
"Who does?"
"Maori?"
"Hello? Hello?"
"David! You better be through because I'm coming in!"
So ... I pinched it off and moved to the shower.
"EWW!"
"You wanted it ... you could have gone upstairs."
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