Fired! (Eight Years Old Andunemployed) Poem by Mary Naylor

Daddy said to Mama, 'Old man Olson wants potato pickers.
He wants kids. The ones can make the most money are those that are quicker.'
Potato pickers? My big brother pretended to choke and gag.
'They get to ride in the back of a truck. They fill up burlap bags.

Richie could take a lunch and a big bottle of soda water.'
'I want to go, too! .' 'I don't think they want people's daughters.
Besides, you'd want to play and not even earn a quarter.'
Mama was for equal rights for women. I went.

Richie showed me a row of potatoes. 'Work fast, squirt.' I bent
Down. He went to another row and was soon hidden by plants.
I dug out two fat potatoes, and then I did a little dance.
The sun was hot. The orange soda bottle was cold. It MUST be time to eat.

In the lunch bag were eggs, cake, and sandwiches heavy with meat.
Sitting on the burlap sack, I ate and played with sticks and dirt.
Tired, I closed my eyes. The sun was bright and the light hurt.
Richie was shaking me. 'Mary Jean, wake up!

Where are your potatoes? Those aren't enough to fill a cup.'
We went to the weighing scales. Richie dragged heavy sacks.
The man gave my delighted brother his money and said, 'Don't bring HER back.'
'What's that mean, ' I whispered to Richie as I kicked the truck's tire.

'Squirt, ' he said, 'I think you just got fired! '