Welcome To America – a short story
“I believe dat, in life, you do what you are good at or you are schmuck! Schmuck! HA! New word I learn here in AmereecaÃ?¯Ã?¿Ã?½you like?”
Nadia Nastase, recent emigrant�¯�¿�½
“Loyal patreeot!”
�¯�¿�½loyal patriot and former Romanian is hard at work at the downtown Westin Hotel. This passionate young dishpan blond has the head of an Horatio Alger and the heart of a lion.
“LionESS, damn you! Don’t let da husky voice throw yaÃ?¯Ã?¿Ã?½I like the mens, but I am no like da mensÃ?¯Ã?¿Ã?½you get?”
OK, so who’s doing the narrating around here anyway?
“NobodyÃ?¯Ã?¿Ã?½you are piss pour! HA! In Romanian we have no piss pourÃ?¯Ã?¿Ã?½is so funny!”
Miss LionESS has come to her new beloved homeland to seek her fame and fortune doing what she know’s in her heart, she is best at – cleaning.
“Consuela, please pass mop.”
“Que?”
It’s a marvel to see the genius behind her leadership skills, not to mention the effortless proficiency in which she tidy’s up.
“Even when there is no big mess, you must have wipe downÃ?¯Ã?¿Ã?½no rest. You know they say? You have time to leen you have time to clean, eh?”
In a constant flurry of motion Nadia makes the most disgusting filth disappear in a matter of minutes.
“You do what you are best at, even if it is cleaning people sheet off wall.”
What a trooper. Only six months in our fair country and she has already saved $25 and is currently looking forward to the possibility of a ten cent raise in another six months. And unlike most lazy American’s she utters nary a complaint.
“Sometimes da dummy kids runnink in hall makes me crazy.”
With very little to complain about�¯�¿�½
“I do not hit dem – I only curse at dem in Romanian with big smile on face.”
and an astonishing diplomatic flare, Nadia has won over all who meet her.
There is no doubt that the early bird catches the worm, and Nadia has taken that idea to new heights by coming in for her sixteen hour shifts two hours ahead of time.
“I just say dat I still on Romanian time.”
She never gets or takes a day off.
“Why day off? I am happy in work. It is love of my life.”
With so much tenderness to give and only one source in which to bestow it, the completely satisfied management can’t find enough ways to express their gratitude. Mr. Gerald Gulch, night manager, probably says it best –
“Yeah, the Romanian chickÃ?¯Ã?¿Ã?½mmmmmmÃ?¯Ã?¿Ã?½finger lickin’ goodÃ?¯Ã?¿Ã?½yeahÃ?¯Ã?¿Ã?½uh-uh-uhÃ?¯Ã?¿Ã?½you know what I’m talkin’ about!”
With that level of respect and admiration from a superior it will be a serious chore for the local competition to lure Miss Nastase away.
“I tink about leavink all da time. And if Gulch do not shut face I will kill him. No. Sorry. Not really kill, but almost.”
Mr. Gulch, back in his office, in a more somber and reflective mood, stops rubbing his five o’clock shadow and flipping through the channels long enough to explain, “She kinda scares me.” He then picks up a crisp copy of the Gideon’s Bible and flips through intently. “So. What do they say about Romanian babes in here anyway?”
Back in room 680, Nadia changes a king size bed and takes a moment for herself – sniffing the sheets. She sighs and leans against the wall.
“I wish I had cigarette.”
All work and no play�¯�¿�½as the saying goes. This is a wonderful step for sweet Nastase to seize.
“Do you have smoke?”
No, I’m the narratorÃ?¯Ã?¿Ã?½just pretend I’m not here.
“But chu areÃ?¯Ã?¿Ã?½you always are.”
This is a very uncomfortable moment for Miss Nadia.
“Oh, like hell.”
Her exterior appearance is one of calm, cool, relaxation, but deep down she is a ball of nerves.
“Stop da lies to reader. Tell truth. You know how I really feel. I cleanÃ?¯Ã?¿Ã?½do you like to get dirty Mr. Narator?”
Eventhough at times she seems strong and relentlessly composed, there is a melancholy to her every action.
“What you say? Meloncollie? Is that same as horny?”
Sweat and spittle slowly form on Nadia’s soft pale chin. She seems unaware of its presence – unaware of herself. She walks slowly and silently, deliberately. Her hands reach out for an unseen object. The hairs on the back of her neck stand up as she cradles something invisible tenderly. OK. Alright. I think it’s time for you to go read something else now.
Nadia Nastase, recent emigrant�¯�¿�½
“Loyal patreeot!”
�¯�¿�½loyal patriot and former Romanian is hard at work at the downtown Westin Hotel. This passionate young dishpan blond has the head of an Horatio Alger and the heart of a lion.
“LionESS, damn you! Don’t let da husky voice throw yaÃ?¯Ã?¿Ã?½I like the mens, but I am no like da mensÃ?¯Ã?¿Ã?½you get?”
OK, so who’s doing the narrating around here anyway?
“NobodyÃ?¯Ã?¿Ã?½you are piss pour! HA! In Romanian we have no piss pourÃ?¯Ã?¿Ã?½is so funny!”
Miss LionESS has come to her new beloved homeland to seek her fame and fortune doing what she know’s in her heart, she is best at – cleaning.
“Consuela, please pass mop.”
“Que?”
It’s a marvel to see the genius behind her leadership skills, not to mention the effortless proficiency in which she tidy’s up.
“Even when there is no big mess, you must have wipe downÃ?¯Ã?¿Ã?½no rest. You know they say? You have time to leen you have time to clean, eh?”
In a constant flurry of motion Nadia makes the most disgusting filth disappear in a matter of minutes.
“You do what you are best at, even if it is cleaning people sheet off wall.”
What a trooper. Only six months in our fair country and she has already saved $25 and is currently looking forward to the possibility of a ten cent raise in another six months. And unlike most lazy American’s she utters nary a complaint.
“Sometimes da dummy kids runnink in hall makes me crazy.”
With very little to complain about�¯�¿�½
“I do not hit dem – I only curse at dem in Romanian with big smile on face.”
and an astonishing diplomatic flare, Nadia has won over all who meet her.
There is no doubt that the early bird catches the worm, and Nadia has taken that idea to new heights by coming in for her sixteen hour shifts two hours ahead of time.
“I just say dat I still on Romanian time.”
She never gets or takes a day off.
“Why day off? I am happy in work. It is love of my life.”
With so much tenderness to give and only one source in which to bestow it, the completely satisfied management can’t find enough ways to express their gratitude. Mr. Gerald Gulch, night manager, probably says it best –
“Yeah, the Romanian chickÃ?¯Ã?¿Ã?½mmmmmmÃ?¯Ã?¿Ã?½finger lickin’ goodÃ?¯Ã?¿Ã?½yeahÃ?¯Ã?¿Ã?½uh-uh-uhÃ?¯Ã?¿Ã?½you know what I’m talkin’ about!”
With that level of respect and admiration from a superior it will be a serious chore for the local competition to lure Miss Nastase away.
“I tink about leavink all da time. And if Gulch do not shut face I will kill him. No. Sorry. Not really kill, but almost.”
Mr. Gulch, back in his office, in a more somber and reflective mood, stops rubbing his five o’clock shadow and flipping through the channels long enough to explain, “She kinda scares me.” He then picks up a crisp copy of the Gideon’s Bible and flips through intently. “So. What do they say about Romanian babes in here anyway?”
Back in room 680, Nadia changes a king size bed and takes a moment for herself – sniffing the sheets. She sighs and leans against the wall.
“I wish I had cigarette.”
All work and no play�¯�¿�½as the saying goes. This is a wonderful step for sweet Nastase to seize.
“Do you have smoke?”
No, I’m the narratorÃ?¯Ã?¿Ã?½just pretend I’m not here.
“But chu areÃ?¯Ã?¿Ã?½you always are.”
This is a very uncomfortable moment for Miss Nadia.
“Oh, like hell.”
Her exterior appearance is one of calm, cool, relaxation, but deep down she is a ball of nerves.
“Stop da lies to reader. Tell truth. You know how I really feel. I cleanÃ?¯Ã?¿Ã?½do you like to get dirty Mr. Narator?”
Eventhough at times she seems strong and relentlessly composed, there is a melancholy to her every action.
“What you say? Meloncollie? Is that same as horny?”
Sweat and spittle slowly form on Nadia’s soft pale chin. She seems unaware of its presence – unaware of herself. She walks slowly and silently, deliberately. Her hands reach out for an unseen object. The hairs on the back of her neck stand up as she cradles something invisible tenderly. OK. Alright. I think it’s time for you to go read something else now.
