Mama knew how to sweet-talk people. Her magic had served her well in McAllen, Texas. And it seemed to be working in our new home in south Louisiana, where employment opportunities were plentiful. She’d even left her first switchboard operator job for a better paying one.
“You have to be fast and have a sharp memory,” she bragged on the phone to her friend Marilyn, who’d also moved here from the Rio Grande Valley. “And it doesn’t hurt if you can charm the pants off the meanest customers,” she added with a laugh.
The image of an adult without pants made me chuckle, and I exposed my hiding place under the kitchen table. At the age of seven, I had taken spying.