MH: I see. And if social work’s your thing, New York City’s the place to be?
KM: Well, yes. That, and my boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—well, he’s a musician—
MH: Say no more. Did it work out better for him than it did for you?
KM: I beg your pardon?
MH: The social work thing. I mean, you’re not doing it anymore.
KM: Oh. No. I took the job with theJournal because, you know, working for the city . . . it was kind of depressing.
MH: Sure.
KM: All these people, they don’t have anything, or any way, really, to make things better. And there were these programs, you know, to help them, but—I don’t know—it didn’t quite work out the way I thought it would. I mean, a lot of the programs got eliminated because the city ran out of money, or sometimes my clients didn’t qualify for them for whatever reason . . . and it just seemed like no matter how hard I tried, you know, things never got better, and there was really nothing I could do about it, and I took the job because I thought I could help make a difference. Only it turned out, I couldn’t. So I was going home every night and crying into my chicken in garlic sauce, and finally, it just seemed healthier to quit.
MH: Chicken. In garlic sauce.
KM: That sounded stupid, didn’t it?
MH: Absolutely not.
KM: No. It did. You’re just being nice.
MH: I’m not. I swear I’m not. I’m not nice.
(Sound of door opening)
Oh, look. Here’s Anne with the coffee.
AK: Here you go.
MH: Cream or sugar, Ms.—
KM: Kate. Both, thanks. I . . . oops.
MH: Sorry about that.
KM: No, it was my fault—
MH: Here you go. Now, uh, where were we? Oh, yes. So you quit social work. . . .
KM: Oh, right. Well, my friend Jen got a job there right out of college, and when a position came up in her department, she recommended me. And I’ve been there ever since. I mean, it isn’t my dream job, or anything. We’re not really helping anybody. Well, maybe occasionally. But at least, you know, I don’t go home anymore and—
MH: Cry into your chicken with garlic sauce.
KM: Exactly.
MH: Right. So I take it you inherited Ida from your predecessor?
KM: Yes, I did. From Amy Jenkins. She’s my supervisor now. Ida’s file is, like, three inches thick.
MH: So it would be safe to say that Ida was considered a troublemaker before you even got there.
KM: Not a troublemaker, no. Not everything in Mrs. Lopez’s file is bad. There are letters in there from administrators saying how much they like her. She’s really—wasreally—very popular—
MH: But not with everyone, clearly.
KM: No. Not with everyone. But the people who didn’t like her were people who, you know, nobody else really liked. Mostly just people like Stuart Hertz—
MH: Go on.
KM: Um. No. Sorry. That’s it. That’s all I had to say.
MH: You were saying something about Stuart Hertzog.
KM: No, I wasn’t.
MH: Yes, you were.
KM: No, I wasn’t. I really wasn’t.
MH: Kate, this is being recorded, remember? I can just play the tape back if you want. Also, Miriam’s taking it down. Miriam, could you read back to me Kate’s last—
KM: Well, I was just saying. You know. How everybody at the paper really, really likes Mr. Hertzog. He’s very, very popular.
MH: Kate. This is Stuart you’re talking about. No one likes Stuart. But what specific problem did Ida have with him?
KM: She won’t tell me. When Mrs. Lopez didn’t consider somebody worthy of her desserts, that was it. They just . . . you know. They were cut off.
MH: And my brother being cut off was what? The last straw?
KM: Well, she’d had a number of verbal warnings, and we’d sent her to, you know, customer service training. Several times. But I guess it never really took. But sometimes it takes more than just a couple of training sessions. Some people just need more time than others. It isn’t right to expect every single employee to be exactly the same. I mean, would you want people to expect you to be exactly the same as every other lawyer in the world, Mr. Hertzog?
MH: Mitch. You can call me Mitch. And, uh, it seems to me like some people already do.
KM: Which is not to say that I don’t completely understand why Mrs. Lopez did what she did, because you know, sometimes you give and you give and you give, and people, they just take, and take, and take, and you start feeling like you’re never going to get anything back, and you wait and wait for something, anything, any kind of acknowledgment, even the tiniest crumb, like, “Yeah, okay, I do want to be with you forever and not just, you know, till someone better comes along, and yeah, I’m an ex-pothead and I can only take it one day at a time, but you, I know I want you in my future.” Only it never comes. And the next thing you know, you’re looking at hellholes in Hoboken for eleven hundred a month and landlords named Ron won’t return your calls . . . er. I mean. What I mean is . . .
MH: I think I get what you mean.
KM: What I meant was, you know. Pie.
MH: Exactly. Pie.
KM: Yes. Mrs. Lopez, she’s human. And you know, clearly, she’d like people to show some appreciation for her hard work. But if people just, you know, take her pie and don’t even say, “Hey, nice pie,” they just scarf it down or whatever—
MH: I could see how that would get to be annoying. I mean, if you’re constantly providing . . . pie. And getting no positive feedback—
KM: Right! And what about your future? I mean, how do you know people are still going to want your pie in the future? Supposing they become a famous rock star or something. People are going to be offering them pie all over the place. If they haven’t promised only to eat your pie, well, where does that leave you?
MH: With perfectly justifiable insecurities over your own self-worth.
KM: Absolutely! See what I mean? I mean, it’s no wonder she cracked. Mrs. Lopez, I mean.
MH: Right. Mrs. Lopez.
KM: So you see what I mean, then? It’s wrong to fire somebody because they had one bad day. And without even any warning. I mean, yes, she was on probation, but I think she still should have gotten a written warning first. Just to let her know. And then if she messed up again, we could have fired her. But to just fire her like that, for not giving someone pie . . .
MH: Oh. Yes. Now I see what you mean. So there was no written warning?
KM: No. Just the verbal. Not that I think theJournal was wrong to fire Mrs. Lopez. I mean, I would never say that. I love working at theJournal . I would never say anything to make theJournal look bad.
MH: Don’t look so panicked, Kate. Nothing you say here is going to get back to your employer.
KM: Yeah, but, I mean, the T.O.D.—I mean, Amy. She’s your brother’s fiancée.
MH: She’s not here.
KM: But . . . Never mind.
MH: What you’re saying is that in your opinion, the firing of Ida Lopez wasn’t justified.
KM: That’s not what I said. That’s not what I said at all. Is that what I said?
MH: You said—excuse me, Miriam—It’s wrong to fire somebody because they had one bad day.
KM: Well, it is. And okay, Mrs. Lopez had a bunch of bad days. But only because bad people—
MH: Like my brother.
KM: Oh my gosh. Is that the time? Really? Because I have to go.
MH: Go?
KM: Yes. I have to meet my broker.
MH: Your broker?
KM: My real-estate broker. See, I’m looking for an apartment, and it’s kind of, you know, urgent that I find a place soon, because right now I’m, like, staying on my friend Jen’s—I told you about Jen—well, I’m staying on her couch, but she and her husband, they’re trying to have a baby, so I need to get out of there, and I was supposed to see this place last night but the broker never showed. But then she called and said if I could meet her at eleven this morning she’d let me in to see the place and so I really have to go, or if I can’t go now I need to call her and see if I can meet her after work.