Over-the-Counter Encounter
1. Folding
Across the folds of time there are many first impressions. These vibrations, astute and foolish, invade us like hot soup or Christmas cheer. It could be a glance or a stare - a passing image or an indelible word; but first impressions usually last the length of time, even as those impressions develop into friendships or relations or, dare be it said, love - all things which indeed last forever across the folds of time.
Dean Taylor folded and refolded shirts on the Holiday display. The Christmas season at the Eatontown mall brought many browsing souls to Abraham & Straus Department Store, all picking through those nicely folded shirts leaving them a crumpled mess. So, Dean Taylor went about refolding them as part of his sales duties. Counters were piled high with sweaters, shirts and accessories. Nearby were racks of jackets, pants and coats. As Dean went about his folding, he noticed a shopper in the coat racks giving him a look-over.
"Another cruiser," thought Dean smiling as he finished his work.
The shopper was checking out coats with disinterest, then Dean with more interest. Dean was flattered. The man was not bad looking. Dean could have done worse.
Finished with the folding, Dean went to his post behind the Menswear counter, behind a forest of ties. When he reached this point he glanced over toward the coat racks. The cruising shopper was gone. Suddenly, a very well dressed young man was at the counter. He was obviously in sales as well, but in more formal attire. He leaned on the glass top on the counter and whistled to get Dean's attention.
"I hate Christmas," he said.
"What are you doing here, Russell?" asked Dean.
"I'm on a break, hon," said Dean. "And did I mention - I hate Christmas!"
"Best time of the year," said Dean, "Sell, sell, sell."
"No rest for the weary," said Russell; "and this girl's feet are in the Pearl Bailey zone."
"Bitch, bitch, bitch," said Dean. "I wish I had a boss like your's in that fucking shoe-box place you work in. If I walked away from the counter as many times as you walked out of the Tux place, I'd be shit-canned."
"Well, formal wear just doesn't sell like this crap for Santa's elves. Beside, when you work retail, never work big, work exclusive. The perks are many more and the. . honey, honey, honey, look at that perk. Maybe I should work big retail."
The "shopper in the coat racks" had returned.
"He's been cruising me for the last half hour," said Dean. "You know how it goes. They come in and look at this pretty ass - they wink and wait; then they open their mouths and that's the end of it."
"I know these over-the-counter encounters," said Russell fanning himself with his hand. "But who knows, maybe a little Christmas cheer would do us all some good. A little pick-me-up."
"That's what I like about you," said Dean. "You're so practical. You are urging me to pick up a man on the job - and loose my job."
"But maybe he's a millionaire on the prowl."
"Yeah, who shops at A&S'. Give me a fucking break. And speaking about breaks, isn't your's up?"
"Oh listen to your auntie Russ, never pass up an opportunity to take what is rightfully somebody else's."
"Listen to your sister Dean, that's a fast ticket to hell."
"Hell girl," said Russ, "according to the Pope, we're all going to hell. I have a table for two reserved for us - on the aisles - best seats in the house."
A lady shopper came to the opposite side of the counter looking at the sweater display.
"Shouldn't you be helping her?" said Russ. "Some retailer you are!"
Dean helped the lady, while Russell scooted over to the coats to get a better look at the mystery shopper. Upon seeing Russ, the shopper disappeared back into the racks. Dean finished with the customer just as Russ returned.
"He's not that good looking," said Russ. "Good ass, medium hands and about a 9 shoe."
Dean looked over at the coat racks.
"Did you chase him away? Where did he go?"
"Well, you know your chances of . . ."
The shopper emerged from the coat racks and approached the men's wear counter
"OK, girlfriend," said Dean to Russell. "Disappear!"
Russ did not budge.
"Leave," whispered Dean. "And he's at least a size eleven shoe."
Russell snarled like a cat then flitted away. The shopper hovered around the counter, while Dean busied himself folding sweaters. The shopper reached the counter and perused the ties. Dean stopped folding.
"Did you want me to match something up?" asked Dean.
The man looked at Dean. Dean stopped still as the man's eyes meets his.
"I was thinking," said the man with a strong Texas drawl, "I was thinking of a tie to go with . . ."
"To go with . . ." said Dean, "a particular color shirt? We can match one up, if you pick out a shirt like the one you want to . . . "
"Well actually it's a gift," drawled the stranger.
"Great," said Dean. "Then you don't need to match it to anything but the person's personality. Is it a relative?"
"No. Not really."
"Well, does he like silk? Designer names? These paisley's are just the thing."
"Do you like them?" said the man.
"No, not really. I think they'll be out as fast as they came in."
"Well, if you were picking something out for a special friend, what would you pick?"
Dean was disappointed at the word "Special Friend." He searched through the tie rack and picked out a hideously bright purple tie.
"This one?" said Dean.
"Are you sure?" asked the man. "This color is very hard to match with anything. I don't know."
He looked at the price tag.
"Wow!" he said. "A.. um …, well, if you think this is a special gift, then I guess it's a sale."
"Great," said Dean. "Do you need a box?"
"Yes."
"Gift wrap? We offer free gift-wrap. Just go up the escalator to the right."
"No …ah… um… no gift wrap."
"You can't go wrong with Givenchy, sir," said Dean folding the tie into the box. "It's a good choice."
"The color is a bit eye opening," said the man.
"Breaks the ice at parties."
"Yep."
"Credit card?"
"Yep, A&S."
"Good. That's $36.99."
Dean rang up the sale while the man fidgeted.
"I was also wondering?" he said.
"Did you need shirts or socks . . . socks for those . . . big . . . well, underwear maybe?"
"No, thanks."
"Merry Christmas," said Dean handing him the bag.
"Thank you. You too."
The man walked away hesitating, then nervously returned.
"Did you forget something?" said Dean. "Did I forget to give you back your Credit Card?"
"Well, no," said the man. "You know - I've never did anything like this before. I'm really being out of line and if I offend you, please . . "
"Sir, don't hesitate," said Dean leaning over the counter toward the man's ear. "I'll save you some time. I am family and have been watching you."
"Oh, thank God!" said the man. "Well, I was wondering if you'd like to maybe go some where and have a cup of coffee or something.
"And what kind of something did you have in mind?" laughed Dean. "I thought you'd never ask."
"Then that's a yes?"
"Yes," said Dean, "It's a Yes. I'm off in an hour. There's a coffee shop in the Mall, 'Old World Coffee' - do you know it?"
"Yes, on the first floor."
"I'll see you there when I get off. My name is Dean."
"I'm Matthew," said the man shaking Dean's hand. "Matt. In an hour. I'll be there."
Matt walked away forgetting the package. He suddenly remembered it, returned and snatched it. Dean watched him from behind the counter. Another customer came to the counter for help; but Dean was so transfixed on Matt's simple eloquence and sky blue eyes, that he did not notice this; he did not even notice the customer's annoyed looks as she stormed away to another counter. Dean sighed. There was something in the air other than Christmas carols and retail and Mall shoppers and ugly purple tie sales. There was the spark of eventuality, those single instances in life when the moment transcended the simple actions of folding shirts or hiding in the coat racks. If the spirit of Christmas was indeed the birth of love in the lowliest pits of our hearts, then it was kindled over that counter during that sale. It left Dean Taylor at the mercy of such events, such common place happenings as they echo across the folds of time.