I stood in line, clutching my schedule in one hand, my pocketbook in the other. I had dressed professional-casual, tan blouse, brown blazer, blue jeans and brown boots – way to professional to fit in with the others around me. I was goint to have to rethink my future attire if I planned to fit in.
I would swear the young girl in front of me was wearing her pajamas. I stared at the little yellow ducks floating forever in a sea of light blue cotton, ending abruptly in a beach of sandy skin stuffed into purple flip flops. The gray sweatshirt only accentuated the extra pounds the girl carried, maybe not proudly but definitely without shame. I had to envy her for that, if not the outfit.
The woman at the glass counter explained for the third time what must be done in order to purchase books on credit. She pointed again and again at the different spaces on the blue sheet accentuating her statements. “Fill these out here and then sign it here.” Glancing briefly at the line behind the young man who, for all intensive purposes, was still not getting it, she pulled herself together with a heavy sigh and went through her explanations a fourth time. She forced a smile and polite “You’re welcome” as the young man finally walked away, but sitting behind the façade was a disbelief in the stupidity of human kind. Maybe this wasn’t the only part of her job she hated but it was a very big portion.
A complaint from the back of the line rang through the small shop like echoes from a mountain top. “How long is this going to fuckin’ take? I’ve been here for at least thirty minutes!” A few heads turned to view the culprit, some giggled, others nodded their heads. No one told him to be patient they were doing the best they could. The woman at the glass counter ignored the entire thing but the wrinkle in her forehead grew deeper so I knew she heard. How much could she take before she finally snapped? What I wouldn’t have given to hear her say “Shut the hell up you inconsiderate little puke!” or something else equally demeaning. Instead she simply smiled that forced smile again, looked up and said “Next.”
The young girl in the atrocious outfit handed the woman her slip of paper and waited, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, while her books were stacked, one-by-one, neatly on the counter. Her cell phone rang and she looked briefly at the front of it than flipped it open. She immediately entered into a conversation that probably should have been played out in private. I found myself once again drawn to the yellow ducks.
That's a nice sketch of the bookstore on the verge of meltdown--full of glimpses of various characters, of situation analysis, of imagined remarks, of observation (it isn't mean to note those ducks and pj's and, in fact, I think I know a very similar school outfit, only with penguins!), of wry self-reflection (realizing you're overdressed or the people around you are underdressed, whatever!)
ReplyDeleteThis goes from your thoughts to what you see and hear to further thoughts and so on--all elements handled very neatly.