Write Off – Male vs. Female POV Part 2

Write Off Series: Male vs Female POV

Welcome back to our Write Off Series. This is Part 2 of a feature where we have two or more authors write off against each other.  Just like yesterday, we’re using the same scene from different points of view. Our goal is to show what people’s of different perspectives notice and what they comment on. We’re presenting this in the form of narrative so it’s more organic to writing. Don’t be too hard on the story, we’re trying to show what our character’s notice more than setting a strong plot.

Today’s post is the Female POV. Make sure you read yesterday’s Male POV written by Michael Simko.


The setting used for both posts:

Jack. 32, caucasian, tall, strongly built.

Mya. 28, asian, average height, curvy.

Both pull into Bob’s Auto Service, a full-service repair shop. Both are in need of work on their vehicles.

Inside the shop is a teenage clerk (Hailey), and in the back is the mechanic (Sam).


Image curtesy of Morguefile

by Jennifer Ray

“What the hell! These parking spaces are too small for regular cars.” Movement causes me to glance up in my rear view mirror. “Shit. Someone is waiting on me. Fine. This is good enough.” I throw it into Park and glance around for that other car. The driver is already walking toward the repair shop door. I think I will just wait for him to pass and then I’ll go in. I’ll just look in the mirror and pretend to be checking my make-up and hair.

I shouldn’t have worn my pink business suit today. I bet I’ll get some kind of black smudge on it before I leave this dump.

That should be long enough. I need to get this over with. I have another interview in two hours. “Dammit,” I mutter under my breath. I didn’t stall long enough. That guy is going to hold the door for me. I’ll just ignore him. I’m sure he already thinks I’m an idiot.

Hmm… he’s pretty built. I wonder if he works out. “Thank you.” I don’t think he heard me. Enjoy the show jackass, because you will never see these girls naked. Ugh! Really, I have a face. He’s probably a mouth breather.

This place smells awful. I glance around and spot the bathrooms in a dark corner. I’m glad I peed before I came here. You couldn’t pay me enough to use those bathrooms. Disgusting. Don’t touch anything. Did I bring my hand wipes?

Oh good, a woman. Well, make that a girl. What teenage girl would work here?

“How can I help you ma’am?” She barely looks up from polishing her nails.

“Hi. Umm, my car is making a strange noise, and I wanted to get it checked out. Do one of your mechanics have time for that?” I glance out the shop door window. Make that mechanic, singular.

“Yes, ma’am.” Wow, she actually looked up at me. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Okay. Well… My truck is making this sound. It clunks, and the wheel feels wrong.”

Did that guy behind me just sigh? Screw him. It’s a new truck and the guys at the damn dealership are asswipes. I really could scream at everyone, starting with the douche behind me. I wish my dad was here with me. He would know immediately what was wrong. I can’t tell.

Is she rolling her eyes at me? Bitch. I am never coming here again.

The clerk sticks out her hand for the keys. I drop them in her hand, careful not to touch her. No telling what disease I’d get.

Glancing around, I find three old chairs in front of a TV that is probably older than me. Wonderful. It’s some basketball game. I think I’d rather stand.

I need something to do, otherwise I may have to talk to that guy. Oh good, cheap car air fresheners. Let’s be interested in that. Maybe they will smell better than this dingy place. Doubtful.

While watching from my periphery, the clerk struts back in. She’s making googly eyes at that douche. I’m sure he’s eating it up. Pervert.

Why is he glancing at me? “Yeah, I can wait,” he says. Shit. This day keeps getting better and better.

Now that this Write Off is complete, what did you think? Did Michael’s sound like a man? Did mine sound like a woman? Do you agree with our individual perspectives? Leave a comment and let us know what you think.

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