This is a random excerpt, a humorous one, from my medical romance novel, Kenyan Sunset. It really is a terrific story, and a very serious one. I hope you will be interested enough to read the rest of the story.
***
Just how Loren was ever able to finally legitimately meet Tara in person has been lost to time, but it surely did
happen—somehow. They even had that very first date. He took her to a movie, and
then later to a restaurant where they had a bite to eat. He was careful not to
order coffee in her presence, knowing exactly what her thoughts were regarding
that nasty, dark poisonous liquid.
“I can’t
believe I actually accepted a date from a crude and uncouth person such as
you,” she said to Loren, continuing to act in a way that made Loren feel he was
a lesser person than Tara. “From all of my
observations, you appear to be unschooled. Do you in fact have an education
beyond elementary school?”
“I went all
the way through high school,” Loren flatly and proudly stated. “After working
for a while at various jobs after graduation, I decided I needed to learn a
trade, so I went on to technical school and learned to be a welder.”
“A welder?
Pray tell, what does a welder actually do, if I may be so bold as to ask?”
“Welding is
an art. I marry metals together to make something of value that we can all
use.”
“Please
give me an example of something of value that you make that I can relate to. I
have no idea what a welded article of value might be, let alone understand how
you marry metals together. Is it something like a flower box?” she asked.
“I could do
that…weld a flower box, but right now I make the frames for automobiles. I weld
all the various steel components together into a single unit. I work at the
frame factory across town,” he informed Tara.
“Oh yes, I
took my class there one day last year. It seems to me that in that dirty place,
they had mechanical contraptions called robots doing all that type of stuff you
describe. Are you a replacement for a robot…like if they would break down or
something?”
“Well, that
isn’t what I regularly do, but yes, I have covered those operations during an
emergency situation when robots would have a mechanical or electrical failure.”
“So are you
telling me that you have the ability to cover for a mechanical manifestation
that has no brains at all? Is that your statement to me?” she checked.
“Well, yes,
I guess so, but you make it sound like there is no skill involved, but there is
plenty of skill required to be a welder. I had to go through two years of
intensive company training so I could become a certified welder,” he attempted
to explain. “Being a welder is like being a painter or a writer.”
“I don’t
think so; those skills require years of intensive training.”
“I know,
just as becoming a welder does.”
“Would it
be asking too much if I requested to see your certificate from the technical
school you attended? Maybe then I could better understand just how a person can
become a substitute for an ignorant, man-made mechanism that has no brains of
its own.”
“What
certificate?”
“You said
you were certified, so you must have a certificate of authenticity or something
to validate that you are in fact certified as a robot replacement. I am a
certified teacher, and I certainly have a certificate of graduation from a
legitimate college to authenticate my credentials that allow me to teach
children how to cope with the challenges of life,” she told him. “It is called
a diploma. May I see the certificate you have?”
“Well, I
don’t actually have that kind of certificate.”
“What? Do
you mean to say that you are not authorized to replace one of those brainless,
mechanical, man-made contraptions after all?”
“Yes, I am
fully authorized. My company authorizes me to do that. Also, I do have a
diploma from welding school that authorizes me to replace a robot. I can show
you that if you must see it,” he enlightened Tara.
“Yes, that
would be nice. And you are sure that it says you are authorized to replace a
mechanical robot?”
“It says
that I completed my welding course, not that I can replace a robot. The company
gave me the training required to replace the robot.”
“May I ask
just how much training the robot receives to do its work?” Tara
inquired.
“They don’t
really get trained like you are talking about. A person called a processor or
an analyst, through a teaching method using a pendant, actually programs a
robot in order for them to do their work. A robot can only do one part of a
job, which in technical terms in industry is called an operation.”
“So you are
telling me that you went to a technical school for two years, and then you
received company training for a period of time, and now you are able to do the
one single part of a job of a mechanical contraption that required no training
at all, right? That is some valuable skill you have there, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Look, Tara, it’s not exactly like that.”
“Are you
authorized to call me by my first name? I don’t believe that I gave you the
authorization to do that, unless I have somehow forgotten.”
Loren sat
there and fumed inside for a minute, thinking to himself, who the hell does
she think she is anyway? She seems to think she is better than me. “Damn,
but you are sure hung up on this authorization crap, aren’t you?” he blurted.
“That’s it!
I will take no more of this lewd pornographic talk that is coming from your
vulgar mouth,” Tara said as she rose to leave.
“I am a refined lady, and I do not listen to vulgarity like that from anyone.”
“Okay,
look, I’m really sorry I said that,” Loren said as he reached out and touched Tara’s arm. “I was just frustrated because you didn’t
understand what I was saying.”
Jerking her
arm away from his touch, Tara said, “Sir, please
don’t touch me in that manner ever again. I am not used to being manhandled in
that way.”
“I said I
was sorry, and I am. I wasn’t manhandling you. I just touched your arm. Please
just sit down and let me try again to explain to you that the work I do is
important. It really is important,” Loren tried to explain.
Tara looked at the skin on her arm to make sure it wasn’t
dirty. “Those hands are despicable,” she told him. “Do you ever wash them?”
http://www.amazon.com/Kenyan-Sunset-Paul-Meredith-ebook/dp/B0051GP2YC
