When Mary got home, she called her mother and told her about what happened at the job. It was nothing new, more of Mary’s endless troubles. To her mother it was like Mary suffered from a never-ending fatal sickness.

            “Ma-aa! It’s Mary.”

            “Hi, Honey,” replied her mother in a frail voice. “How was work today?”

            “Ma-ah, it’s bad! I’m going to get fired. I can’t sell any papers, and he’s going to fire me tomorrow.”

            “But, you sold some papers before.”

            “Yay-ah,” she said in a twisted voice. “But I can’t now. Something’s wrong! I must be getting worse!” She cried. “Oh, Ma, I’m getting so sick lately. I’m the one, it’s all my fault I can’t sell those papers!” Mary sobbed into the phone. Her eyes were puffy and her chin quivered. “It’s all these deadlines. Nothing but deadlines! Oh, Maa-a-a!” she sobbed into the phone. “I don’t know what to do! Agh-ah!”

            Resigned as usual, her mother waited for Mary to get past these spots of grief and hopelessness. “What exactly did Mr. McCracken say, Mary?”

            “Agh...” Mary stuttered in tears, alternately pouting and pursing her lips. “I don’t remember, Ma. I gotta sell fifteen papers by noon tomorrow. Or I’m dead!”

            “What will happen if you don’t?”

            Mary became hysterical. “I just said! I’m dea-a-haaid, Maa!” she blubbered.