Time Enough

Scene one:
Outside Mrs Billington's office. A young woman, seated, and dressed in care assistant's whites, is waiting, nervously.

Miss Rowe: 'I can't believe it – can't believe I've been called in. Ok, so I couldn't light Mrs
Hancock's coal fire the other day, and I did smash a glass in the sink at Mrs Trembath's – but
it was an accident. And I know I turned up late for that cleaning job, the one at Canons
Town, for that horrible lady. The one who doesn't have a toilet brush – says they're
unhygienic – makes you clean the bowl by hand. The one with all the dogs – the dogs that
shed hair everywhere. Clogging up the hoover.
But I couldn't help it – couldn't help being late. It's like mission impossible this job.
Never enough time to get from one place to the next. Oh shit, here we go.'

Scene two:
Inside Mrs Billington's Office.

Mrs B: 'Do take a seat. I suppose you know why you're here?'

Miss R: 'No, not really.'

Mrs B: 'Well, we've received a number of complaints regarding the standard of your work, and
your punctuality. We at 'Home Helper', pride ourselves on our professional conduct, and
service. It was quite clearly explained to you, what our requirements are, at interview, and I'm
afraid you're letting the team down.'

Miss R: 'I'm sorry if you feel that way, but I really don't think that I've done anything wrong.'

Mrs B: 'According to my records, you've been repeatedly late on several occasions. We charge
our clients by the hour; they naturally expect somebody to be there – on time. Arriving five,
or ten minutes late, simply isn't good enough.'
.

Miss R: 'But it's just not possible sometimes. The way the rota's been worked out, I have to dash
between back-to-back appointments. There's no travel time worked into it. If I finish one job
at 10am in Newlyn, how can I be in Marazion for 10am as well?'

Mrs B: 'Make allowances for the time it will take you, to get to your next client. Surely that's
only common sense? Just leave a few minutes early.'

Miss R: 'But if I cut the first job short, then they won't be getting their full hour's worth. Besides,
one hour is never enough to do everything anyway.'

Mrs B: 'Everybody else manages to work within the time constraints. Nobody else has had
complaints made against them. Only you.'

Miss R: 'I'm working as fast as I can. When it comes to cleaning, I just can't make a sloppy job of
it – have to be thorough. It seems only fair to do a proper job. But as you know, being new
here, I'm covering other people's regular clients. Some of their houses look like they've not
seen a cloth, or a mop, for months. They're filthy. I can't possibly go, and leave them in such
a state.'

Mrs B: 'Are you insinuating, that your colleagues aren't doing their duty then? May I remind
you, yet again, that no other members of staff have had their lack of proficiency, brought to
my attention.'

Miss R: 'Perhaps they are experiencing similar difficulties – forced to cut corners because they
need to be somewhere else. If you have to do a client's shopping, it takes time to find the stuff
they want – the exact brand – on the shelves. There might be a queue at the check-out, or
some other hold-up. With showering and personal care, it's not something you can rush. It'd
be really, really rude to hurry someone along – embarrassing for them to be told to be quick.
You can't take away their dignity like that.'

Mrs B: 'Of course you must be respectful – but that doesn't mean you can make excuses for
failing to arrive on time. It says here, that you were 15 minutes late yesterday for Mrs Myers.'

Miss R: 'It was the first time I'd been to her house, and I wasn't sure how to find it. The directions
you gave me weren't very clear, and I had no signal on my mobile, so couldn't ring. I was
driving up and down that same stretch of road for ages – knocked on doors, asking people if
they knew the place. Got there eventually, but yes, I was late. I apologised, of course.
Explained what had happened, then stayed for the full two hours – eating into my own
time, as it was the last job of the day.'

Mrs B: 'Well I'm afraid today has been your last day. I am not happy with your performance, or
your attitude, so your employment with us has been terminated. Please return your uniform
on your way out, and don't bother to ask for a reference. Goodbye.'

Scene three:
Outside the office again, heading for the door.

Miss R: 'I can't believe it. Sacked? How could I be sacked? I worked so bloody hard. Cow.
Fucking cow. She should try getting her hands dirty for once. Clean the stinking, mouldering
houses those poor sods call home. Know what it's like to have some desperately lonely old
woman, clinging onto your conversation – not wanting you to leave – the only company she'll
have for the week. Witness their physical decrepitude. The lady who's not been out her front
door for five years, because of her knees. The one who always says she's sorry, 'cos she can't
get her knickers on. Or the woman on High Street, away with the fairies, suffering from
Alzheimer's, whose fridge is full of dozens of small, rotting tubs, of Rhoda's clotted cream.
There's never enough time. Never. Not for them. Never enough, to get to the next place.'