The
      Cadre
      +
     
    
   
   
    
     
      6
      April
      1999
     
    
   
   
    
     
      OPINION
      19
     
    
   
   
    
     
       
     
    
   
   
    
     
      Ww
      Kyte
      Spyte
      with
      Lindsay
      Kyte
     
    
   
   
    
     
      As
      the
      school
      year
     
     
      winds
      down
      and
      exams
      are
     
     
      about
      to
      begin,
      students
      drop
     
     
      their
      books
      in
      the
      UPEI
      li-
     
     
      brary
      sun
      room,
      and
      dream
      of
     
     
      the
      up-coming
      summer
      break
     
    

    
     
      -
      a
      time
      for
      happiness,
     
     
      swimming,
      and
      oh-so-toasted
     
     
      marshmallows,
      right?
     
    

    
     
      Wrong!
     
    

    
     
      Wake
      up
      and
      smell
      the
     
     
      rancid
      coffee
      that
      will
      some-
     
     
      day
      give
      you
      ulcers,
      folks.
     
     
      This
      break
      is
      a
      fictitious
      car-
     
     
      rot
      held
      over
      noses
      in
      the
     
     
      middle
      of
      never-before-
     
     
      opened
      texts,
      that
      turns
      out
      to
     
     
      be,
      upon
      the
      first
      sumptuous
     
     
      bite,
      a
      chance
      to
      work
      at
      a
      job
     
     
      you
      don’t
      care
      about
      for
      less
     
     
      money
      than
      they
      throw
      in
      the
     
     
      fountain
      in
      front
      of
      the
      Con-
     
     
      federation
      House.
     
    

    
     
      I
      am
      pretty
      lucky
      this
     
     
      summer,
      as
      |
      have
      a
      job
     
     
      which
      I
      started
      last
      summer
     
     
      and
      kept
      as
      part-time
     
     
      throughout
      the
      year
      as
      a
      buf-
     
     
      fet
      server
      in
      a
      more
      expen-
     
     
      sive
      restaurant
      in
     
     
      Charlottetown.
      My
      boss
      is
     
     
      understanding,
      my
      co-work-
     
     
      ers
      are
      friendly,
      and
      |
      actu-
     
     
      ally
      do
      get
      that
      mythical
      fif-
     
     
      teen-minute
      break
      now
      and
     
     
      then.
      The
      only
      thing
      I
      can
     
     
      complain
      about
      with
      my
     
     
      summer
      job
      are
      the
      custom-
     
     
      ers
      (read
      on---
      I'm
      sure
      you'll
     
     
      recognize
      the
      types).
     
    

    
     
      Sometimes
      I
      think
      that
     
     
      I
      must
      lose
      my
      literacy
      in
      the
     
     
      summer
      because
      I
      surely
      can-
     
     
      not
      read
      my
      name
      tag.
      |
     
     
      though
      it
      said,
      “Lindsay,”
      but
     
     
      |
      am
      obviously
      incorrect,
      as
     
     
      it
      seems
      to
      read
      “Little
      Girl.”
     
     
      I
      mean,
      that’s
      what
      all
      of
      the
     
     
      customers
      shout
      at
      me
      at
      six
     
     
      in
      the
      morning,
      and
      I’m
      sure
     
     
      that
      the
      gold-shoes-wearing
     
     
      ones
      who
      are
      putting
      silver-
     
     
      ware
      in
      large
      black
      purses
     
    
   
   
    
     
      could
      never
      be
      mistaken.
     
    

    
     
      My
      boss’
      favourite
     
     
      story
      about
      me
      is
      one
      that
     
     
      happened
      last
      summer
      on
      a
     
     
      particularly
      crowded
      morn-
     
     
      ing.
      A
      line
      of
      tour
      buses
      was
     
     
      lined
      up
      outside
      our
      window,
     
     
      sighing
      like
      impatient
      el-
     
     
      ephants,
      and
      |
      was
      cruising
     
     
      around
      the
      buffet,
      which
      is
      in
     
     
      the
      middle
      of
      the
      restaurant,
     
     
      filling
      up
      dishes
      and
      remov-
     
     
      ing
      things
      like
      dental
      floss
     
     
      which
      someone
      felt
      the
      decor
     
     
      was
      lacking
      (7).
      |
      saw
      a
      gi-
     
     
      ant
      of
      a
      man
      with
      a
      look
      on
     
     
      his
      face
      like
      “I'm
      not
      really
     
     
      big
      enough
      right
      now,
      so
      |
     
     
      think
      I’ll
      embarrass
      the
      ‘lit-
     
     
      tle’
      server
      girl
      and
      boost
      my
     
     
      self-esteem.”
      And
      I
      know
      he
     
     
      called
      me
      “little”
      in
      his
      head,
     
     
      that
      jerk
     
    

    
     
      Anyway,
      |
      did
      the
      ol’
     
     
      “|
      did
      not
      see
      your
      eyes--no
     
     
      eye
      contact,
      no
      service---"
     
     
      move
      that
      I’m
      sure
      is
      in
      my
     
     
      contract,
      when
      I
      heard
      a
      se-
     
     
      ries
      of
      loud
      taps
      on
      the
      buf-
     
    
   
   
    
     
      fet.
      Clang
      .
      “bittle
     
     
      Girl!!!!".
      ..
      Clang.
      .
      .
      “Little
     
     
      Girl!!!!”...
      Clang.
      ....
      Slow
     
    
   
   
    
     
      turn
      and
      reluctant
      look
      from
     
     
      me
      (aka
      “little
      girl”).
      Mr.
      Big
     
     
      Man
      been
      shouting
      at
      me,
     
     
      and
      as
      he
      is
      in
      the
      middle
      of
     
     
      the
      restaurant,
      all
      eyes
      are
      on
     
     
      us,
      like
      the
      people
      in
      the
     
     
      Burger
      King
      parking
      lot
      on
     
     
      Friday
      night,
      hoping
      for
      a
     
     
      scene.
      “Little
      Girl!”
      he
      says
     
     
      one
      more
      time
      in
      case
      my
     
     
      complex
      hadn't
      fully
      devel-
     
     
      oped.
      “This
      bread
      is
      as
      hard
     
     
      as
      a
      rock!”
      he
      bellowed,
     
     
      clanging
      the
      knife
      down
      once
     
     
      more
      for
      emphasis.
      |
      looked
     
     
      at
      the
      table,
      and
      looked
      to
      the
     
     
      heavens.
      I
      thanked
      the
      angels
     
     
      for
      this
      glorious
      opportunity
     
     
      and
      prayed
      for
      the
      ability
      to
     
     
      keep
      my
      voice
      free
      of
      sar-
     
     
      casm.
      None
      was
      necessary,
     
    
   
   
    
     
      but
      I
      opened
      my
      eyes
      wide
     
     
      for
      an
      innocent
      effect
      just
      the
     
     
      same.
      “Actually,
      sir,”
      |
      said
     
     
      for
      the
      hundreds
      of
      eyes
      be-
     
     
      hind
      Shoppers
      Drug
      Mart
     
     
      sunglasses,
      “that
      IS
      a
      rock.”
     
     
      Captain
      Brainiac
      had
      been
     
     
      attempting
      to
      saw
      off
      a
      piece
     
     
      of
      wholesome
      Island
      sand-
     
     
      stone,
      which
      was
      a
      decora-
     
     
      tion
      piece
      on
      the
      buffet,
      for
     
     
      his
      breakfast.
      Score
      one
      for
     
     
      the
      “little
      girl.”
     
    

    
     
      And
      why
      is
      it,
      when
     
     
      I'm
      carrying
      a
      tray
      of
      steam-
     
    
   
   
    
     
      benedicts,
      and
      not
      have
      to
      put
     
     
      metal
      utensils
      in
      each
      other's
     
     
      eyes
      to
      attain
      them.
      And
      not
     
     
      live
      until
      lunchtime,
      as
      those
     
     
      eggs
      benedict
      will
      clog
      your
     
     
      arteries
      faster
      than
      |
      can
      not
     
     
      hear
      someone
      asking
      me
      for
     
     
      more
      coffee
      (it's
      not
      my
      job-
     
     
      --
      I'm
      not
      a
      slacker)
     
    

    
     
      So
      for
      those
      who
      will
     
     
      insist
      on
      being
      rude
      to
      student
     
     
      employees
      this
      summer,
      re-
     
     
      member
      that
      this
      is
      merely
     
     
      summer
      employment
      for
      us,
     
     
      and
      we
      usually
      hate
      what
      we
     
    
   
   
    
     
      are
      doing
      (I
      actually
      like
      my
     
     
      job,
      as
      it
      gives
      me
      lots
      of
     
     
      material
      for
      my
      writing).
      Just
     
     
      be
      aware,
      ye
      who
      insist
      on
     
     
      using
      us
      for
      releasing
      some
     
     
      pent-up
      confidence
      issues,
     
     
      that
      we
      see
      that
      it’s
      your
      fifth
     
     
      trip
      to
      the
      buffet
      table,
      we
     
     
      know
      that
      you
      will
      only
      leave
     
     
      a
      silver
      change
      tip,
      and
      we
     
     
      may
      have
      columns
      in
      student
     
     
      pers
      where
      you
      will
     
     
      find
      your
      likeness,
      just
      like
     
     
      the
      Stupid
      Family
      with
      their
     
     
      rock-crunching
      father.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      ing
      hot
      food,
      that
      people
      feel
     
     
      the
      need
      to
      attack
      me,
      armed
     
     
      with
      forks
      and
      spatulas,
      as
      if
     
     
      they
      were
      wild
      animals
      fight-
     
     
      ing
      over
      a
      carcass
      instead
      of
     
     
      “respectable”
      people
      in
      an
     
     
      expensive
      restaurant?
      Let's
     
     
      say
      I'm
      carrying
      a
      tray
      of
     
     
      eggs
      benedict.
      |
      walk
      to-
     
     
      wards
      the
      big
      silver
      chaffing
     
     
      dish,
      my
      hands
      burning,
      and
     
     
      a
      stupid
      lady
      will
      stand
      in
     
     
      front
      of
      it.
      |
      grit
      my
      teeth,
      as
     
     
      she
      obviously
      thinks
      I
      have
     
     
      some
      sort
      of
      buffet-server
      la-
     
     
      ser
      device
      which
      allows
      me
     
     
      to
      change
      dishes
      through
      hu-
     
     
      man
      flesh.
      |
      ask
      her
      politely
     
     
      to
      move
      over
      a
      fraction
      of
      an
     
     
      inch
      so
      the
      sought-after
      eggs
     
     
      benedict
      will
      not
      be
      “as
      hard
     
     
      as
      a
      rock”
      (still
      gloating
      over
     
     
      that
      one).
      Stupid
      Lady
      is
     
     
      joined
      by
      three
      members
      of
     
     
      her
      family---Stupid
      Kid,
      Stu-
     
     
      pid
      Mother-in-Law
      and
      Stu-
     
     
      pid
      Husband
      (
      for
      his
      story,
     
     
      see
      above).
      They
      crowd
     
     
      around
      me,
      all
      vying
      to
      be
      the
     
     
      first
      lucky
      recipient
      of
      one
      of
     
     
      twenty
      eggs
      benedict.
     
     
      There's
      no
      prize
      for
      the
      first
     
     
      taker,
      there
      geniuses.
      If
      it
     
     
      were
      possible
      to
      teach
      them
     
     
      simple
      math,
      |
      would
      point
     
     
      out
      that
      if
      they
      are
      four
      in
     
     
      number,
      they
      could
      each
     
     
      have
      five
      of
      the
      twenty
     
    
   
   
    
     
       
     
    
   
   
    
     
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