Story so far: The Old Sales Woman has begun to describe her life in Rutland in the 1070’s, as a one half of a young married couple working in commission sales, to her niece Sara. After showing Sara her old apartment in the “gut”, she heads to the center of town and Sara asks her to tell her about one sales call in particular.
Well, I got there on time, but the owner wasn’t there yet, and the door was still locked, so I had to wait on the sidewalk. The sidewalks were never shoveled till after 10, and this was a real problem because I couldn’t get my sample cases wet. I paid for my samples. I had a big artist portfolio for the bags and flattened boxes and a doctor’s bag for the ribbons and bows and wrapping paper. In a situation like that I had to sort of hoist the cases up under my armpits and lean against the building. I had shiny brown plastic boots with thick heels that I could get on with three or four pairs of socks and pantyhose. Those plastic boots were warm. I know leather’s supposed to be better, it breaths and all, but plastic keeps the heat in. Remember that. It may come in handy some day.
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“I’m going to take a minute and drive by the Yankee Peddler and see if it’s still there, it that’s Ok with you.” I said a little too tentatively for an aunt. I drove down Main Street and saw it was still there. But now it was the Vermont Peddler. It looked like a cute store. The whole street was cuter than it was when I lived there. The sidewalks were wider, and shoveled. There were fancy streetlights, and a few wrought iron benches placed along the street. We found a place to park and walked down the wider, fully shoveled sidewalks to what used to be the Yankee Peddler. The counter looked like the original; the wood so worn and shiny and slippery I wouldn’t have been able to lean my sample cases against them.
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Finally the owner showed up, “Good Morning! Good Morning! It sure is cold, yes so, so cold.”
I tumbled in the store dragging my two black cases. “Can I set up here?”
I leaned my two sample cases against the smooth wood counters, and while they slowly slid to the floor, and started my pitch. I was lasering now. I could snap those gift boxes together with a flourish and talk smoothly at the same time. I know now that’s because of motor memory. My company had small minimums on gift boxes so the little shops liked us, but you had to pay a lot per box. I made a pretty good sale on gift boxes that day. I’m sure I calculated my commission right away, and I’m sure I worried about details of the sale. Did I price it right? Would he pass credit check? Would the company deliver on time? In sales there’s always a hitch on the way to the commission. When I got out on to the sidewalk I was dizzy with the release of adrenalin.
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“Why were you so worked up?”
“Well, I’d made some money and I’d done it on my own, and it felt good. “
While leaving the Vermont Peddler, walking back to the SUV, and looking at all the old store fronts and street signs, the memory of the entire day dropped on me and I couldn’t stop telling now.
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While I was still on my adrenaline high, I headed to the next store on Center Street. I looked further down the street, and saw Bob’s Toyota, obviously free of the stump, outside the best men’s store in town. That stopped me short. Bob’s Toyota in Rutland? I knew it was Bob’s Toyota, I couldn’t see the plates, but I knew the dents and the faded red color and the blue ski cap in the back window. I dropped my sample cases, stood still and stared till my eyes watered. Then I stuck a case under each arm, tucked my chin in my scarf and walk toward the next store on the block.
I just worked my way down the street, door to door, counter to counter, out in the cold, into the heat. Hello! Hello! Good morning! I was on auto pilot. As I left one store and headed to the next, I refused to look back at the Toyota. When I‘d worked my way to the corner of the street, I started around the block. I told myself, when I ‘m done working this block, the Toyota will be gone and I’ll never be sure it was Roy’s car in the first place. But after a square block of stores, about two hours of calls, it was still there, in front of the men’s store, but now there was movement around it. The passenger door was opening .I watched as Roy helped a tiny, pretty blonde girl get out of the Toyota. My two sample cases dropped to the sidewalk, in the dirty snow. The girl looked dainty. She was laughing. She had on spike heeled boots, no hat, no scarf, and looked attractively chilly, but not cold.
Just keep moving, I mumbled to myself, just sell something, laser your attention, phrases I mumbled to myself for years to come, but never with as much concentration as that morning.
But that didn’t work. After a couple of minutes, I dragged, hiked, and hitched myself and my cases down the sidewalk to the car, blasted the heater, and drove around Rutland for an hour. I probably thought about going to a dollar movie. I did that a lot back then, just to escape and be warm. I might have gone to one, but I’m not sure I could have sat through it. Probably around two o’clock, maybe later, I headed to the flat. When I passed the library I saw the Toyota. That at least, was part of the routine and was strangely reassuring.
When I got back to the flat, I immediately peeled off the layers and got in the tub. I brought in a tumbler full of zinfandel and stayed through Password and Match Game.
Sara broke in. “So, you were upset. Mad.”
“Oh I was upset and mad and all that stuff.”
“Did you pack up? Did you leave?”
“No. I didn’t”
“Why not?”
I couldn’t tell her that, but I could tell her about the rest of the day. So I continued.
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About three o’clock or so that day it started to storm. When Roy wasn’t home by seven, I went on alert. I wandered the flat, bumping into furniture, not sitting for more than a minute, listening to the weather report on TV. There was a storm alert. Icy conditions were reported. I was now officially on duty. If he was in trouble and could get to a phone, I would go on the rescue mission, regardless of the circumstances of the day.
Bob finally got in about eight thirty. I probably tried to act cool and unconcerned because that’s how we were with each other. We thought we were giving each other a break being that way, or at least, I did.
Bob wasn’t home a half hour when the phone rang. He had to deliver a case of glasses to the Killington Ski Resort about 18 miles away. The case of glasses cost about $19. The commission would be about $2.50. It isn’t a lot of money now and it wasn’t a lot of money then. That hasn’t changed. I told Bob so, and I begged him not to go. But he was going. Killington was potentially a big account and it was the general manager himself who called. I told him I was going with him. I put on a few layers and hoped the car wasn’t hooked on the stump.
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