Chapter 3
: Payday
The dayPAY DAY before payday always felt the same. Everyone walked around with tired eyes, watching
one another closely. If even one person was spotted with money in their pockets, someone else
was bound to end up borrowing before the day was over.
Isha scratched through every coin in her small brown purse, counting and recounting as if
another cent might magically appear. Lance was outside, digging through his car, searching
desperately for any loose change he could possibly find. Jess tugged at her hair in
frustration—she was out of cigarettes—and I sat quietly, holding my head in my hands, worrying
about what I would cook for my children when I got home.
When lunchtime arrived, we all lined up with our plates, waiting for Francy, the canteen lady.
She wasn't exactly everyone's favourite person.
Isha sat down with a deeply disturbed look on her face and stared at the plate of food in front of
her.
"Why is Francy in the kitchen?" she said. "She can't cook. Is this supposed to be mac and
cheese?"
I sighed. "I know what you mean, Isha, but what can we do? It's free food, and at least we're
getting paid tomorrow."
Her voice grew louder, thick with irritation. "I don't care if it's free food. We work hard—eight
hours in this place. The least they can do is give us better food or change the canteen lady."
No one argued with her. We all just sat there, staring down at our plates, counting the hours until
payday finally arrived.
Lance suddenly cut in, breaking the tension. "Isha, you know she can hear you, right?"
Isha shot him a sharp look, staring daggers straight at him. "Lance, why are you here?"
He shrugged, completely unfazed. "I'm on lunch with my friends. What kind of question is that?"
"We're not friends, Lance," Isha snapped. "The table for lonely guys is over there."
Before he could reply, a staff member named Mark walked up to our table, his face lit with
excitement. "Hey guys, I just wanted to give you the good news. We spoke to Shannon, the
shop steward. Everyone's going to vote Francy out of the kitchen. Bree's taking over from now
on."
A ripple of relief passed through the table.
Moments later, Gammie marched into the canteen, hands planted firmly on his hips. His white
shirt was neatly tucked into his black pants as he faced Francy head-on.
"Francy, how can you do this to us?" he said loudly. "You know everyone's broke, and then you
cook food like this. I'll be the first one to vote you out of the kitchen—even if I have to cook
myself, I'll do it."
Francy jumped to her feet. "Oh, fine, Gammie," she snapped. "You think it's easy working in this
canteen? Dealing with ungrateful staff and a manager who's constantly blaming me for going
over budget? You just have to take what you get and live with it."
Jess finally spoke, her tone calm but firm. "I understand you, Francy. You and Gammie both
have a point. But I'm on Gammie's side. If this bothers you so much, maybe it's time to step
down. If you don't have passion for being in a kitchen, you shouldn't cook. Bree loves cooking.
Even with just a few ingredients, she can make something good. That's what matters."
One by one, staff members pushed their plates away. Some tossed the food into the bin,
choosing hunger over another bite. The canteen slowly emptied, leaving behind an
uncomfortable silence.
Only then did Francy seem to realise what she had done.
The next day, she decided to cook a better mac and cheese, hoping to make things right.
Unfortunately for her, no one showed up at the canteen.
It was payday.
The End.