Maggie’s Day in the Sun

The wave pool waurines a dingy color of yellow and she didn’t have to look twice to know that it was full of urine.  The filters hadn’t been working correctly for over a week now but her boss flat-out refused to close the water park.  You gonna give me the 85k we make on an August day? He barked at her in his ridiculous regional accent.  If you can, then we can close the pool just so the water can be sparklin clean.  Jesus, some people in Africa don’t have ANY watah, Mags!  He always brought any complaint back to people in Africa, despite being the most viscous racist she had ever encountered.  The nickname, too – she had told him repeatedly that her name was MAGGIE, not Margaret, not Mags, not Magpie (abbreviated to “Shit-pie by the lifeguards, she was well aware).  But he didn’t care.  This was a man who let babies and pregnant mothers bathe in the hot urine of strangers, let it wash over their faces, into the mouth, coating their teeth and throats with reheated, refiltered stranger urine.  It was enough to make a person vomit.  But there was already enough of that, cooking inside one of the caverns of the Lazy River, and she needed to find someone willing to clean it up.

This entry was posted in Appearence, Careers, Character, Cleanliness, Workplace. Bookmark the permalink.

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