By Lisa Maliga
It’s official—the SECOND EDITION of Notes from Nadir is available online in both eBook and paperback formats. This edition is almost 130 pages longer – yet the price remains the same! However, it is in a handy paperback version for those of you who prefer turning pages instead of hitting an arrow key!
Here’s a new excerpt:
Chapter 23 – The Factory in the Armpit of Nadir
I applied online for a job in a place I’d call The Factory. It was a creative job in that it dealt with listing auctions online, so I needed some writing and photography ability. Today I got an email from them and I wrote back that I was available for an interview. It was located in the stinky, hairy armpit of Nadir – the warehouse district on the south side of town.
Like the bakery, this wasn’t a place where I needed to dress in my white summer suit or wear those black and white sandals with insoles that read Made in Italy for Neiman Marcus. I was to meet Cheryl, the head of the online division that afternoon to discuss the job.
Driving across the large pot holed parking lot signaled that I was in the depths of Nadir. To the east was a rambling mart store and on the other side I groaned when I got a strong whiff of the Hardee’s fried grease.
I walked inside The Factory and saw large bins and steel shelves filled with scrambled junk. Lamps, toys, shoes, clothes, clocks, books, kitchen appliances, all manner of stuff just tossed or shelved with no sense of order. One area was packed with furniture; none of it suitable for Mom’s place—not even the garage. There was a small area where you could test the appliances and from what I saw of the hunks of junk they looked like they’d short circuit the place. I approached a cashier in a red T-shirt and asked if the head of the online division was in. “No, ma’am, she’s in a safety meeting,” the cashier glanced at her watch. “But it should be over in a minute.” Okay, I guess I’d look around … well crap my panties, what did we have here?
We had two middle-aged women sporting a few chins and several stomach rolls bringing in bags of fresh Hardee’s food. They set the greasy bottomed bags on a pockmarked old plywood end table, pulled up a pair of mismatched kitchen chairs, and consumed their burgers and fries. Right in the middle of the store but neither employees nor customers said anything or paid any attention. Geez, didn’t know this was a restaurant, too.
Amazon Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/Notes-from-Nadir-ebook/dp/B00486UDJA