OAK, WALNUT, CRYSTAL?
The line to board the downtown bus #42 is short. Only four ladies, one holding the hand of a squirming tot, two senior women, one of whom is agile. The other carries a fancy cane that looks like an antique. I am last and may be a bit late for work if the bus fills. The bus lurches a tiny bit just as I reach the fare box. One quarter tinkles going down the slot. Quarter two rolls towards the door. My change purse, I know, has many pennies and a lone dime which forces me to try to retrieve my quarter in plain sight on the bottom step, ready to fall out when the door opens again. The bus driver is edgy and asks me to deposit another quarter. When I let him see my coin purse, he surprises me with a smile, a nod, a wink and instructions to find a seat.
To my dismay, there is only one empty seat, near the window. The aisle occupant is the lady with the cane. Stepping over it, I almost fall in her lap. 'I'm O.K.' I tell her but can see she is hepped up, worried about me.
I am almost sure I see tears leaking under her bifocals.
I am almost sure I see tears leaking under her bifocals.
Traffic is zooming past the bus. If we have no problems, I'll reach A. O. Otis Interiors in plenty of time to do nothing but wait for a customer to browse and browse and most likely leave without accepting my offer of assistance. I know I'll never be rich working here, but I do love the smell of an antique desk, the feel of inlaid woods, original brass handles, unpolished for years, the greenish patina calling out, 'Open the drawers. See how well they slide.' That patina will up the selling price, cherry wood dovetail drawers up, up it to the thousands.
Pitching has to be soft, explaining, teaching must be soft. Pushing is a no no. I know the rules and have been top salesperson here for five years. Of course, with just two other employees, my superiority is not a great feat. Mr. Otis usually makes an appearance when he thinks a sale is about to be made. His warmth, knowledge and ability to possibly shave a few dollars off the price, is magic.
This business is a slow business usually, now it is a lousy business. I haven't made a sale over $500 in two weeks. Mr. Otis paces, worries and mentions to me the possibility of closing the doors permanently soon. I take that info under advisement to consider my future. Will I have to sell ladies' wear or take a course in health care at some off beat computer college? I'm concerned but won't give up until I have no other choice.
Pitching has to be soft, explaining, teaching must be soft. Pushing is a no no. I know the rules and have been top salesperson here for five years. Of course, with just two other employees, my superiority is not a great feat. Mr. Otis usually makes an appearance when he thinks a sale is about to be made. His warmth, knowledge and ability to possibly shave a few dollars off the price, is magic.
This business is a slow business usually, now it is a lousy business. I haven't made a sale over $500 in two weeks. Mr. Otis paces, worries and mentions to me the possibility of closing the doors permanently soon. I take that info under advisement to consider my future. Will I have to sell ladies' wear or take a course in health care at some off beat computer college? I'm concerned but won't give up until I have no other choice.
The daily bus ride has become a bore. The downtown #42 approaches. The doors open and I manage to get both quarters in the fare box without dropping one. At once I notice, sitting on the aisle seat half way to the back, the elderly lady who had the cane when I lost my quarter. Other seats are vacant but I am blue and need company. Holding lightly to her cane she swings her legs into the aisle so I can squeeze in. She is holding a different cane this time. This one is beautiful French crystal. On its head is a white swan with its wings close to its body, carved from pink jade. I saw a similar one at the Rockefeller Museum in Houston and recall it's astounding value of $3000.
I smile to her and introduce myself. 'I'm Mary, Mary Constata.'
'I'm Perfidia, Perfidia is enough,' she replies. 'Perfidia, isn't your cane a Beaumont from the 18th century? Perfidia bubbles with excitement. 'How did you know that?' She tells me about her collection until the bus nears my stop. I start to go past her but she tells me she is getting off too. I help her down the high bus step and start the two walk block to work. She walks slowly behind me. At the shop I use my key to enter the back door. The lights come on automatically. The safe is still closed properly so I dust a few pieces of furniture. Mr. Otis arrives promptly at 9:15 and opens the shop for business.
'I'm Perfidia, Perfidia is enough,' she replies. 'Perfidia, isn't your cane a Beaumont from the 18th century? Perfidia bubbles with excitement. 'How did you know that?' She tells me about her collection until the bus nears my stop. I start to go past her but she tells me she is getting off too. I help her down the high bus step and start the two walk block to work. She walks slowly behind me. At the shop I use my key to enter the back door. The lights come on automatically. The safe is still closed properly so I dust a few pieces of furniture. Mr. Otis arrives promptly at 9:15 and opens the shop for business.
The first customer, Perfidia, comes in. We are surprised to meet again so soon. She ambles around, looks, touches, shows interest in several items. At 10 she calls me to ask questions about a carved wedding chest and an inlaid armoire. All of her questions are answerable plus the histories and prices. 'Mary,' she says,' my great-grand daughter is getting married next month and I haven't yet found the right gift. Her compassion in life, like mine, is antiques, the durable, craftsmanship of masters.
I'll bring her with me Saturday about noon and if she is as thrilled as I am , we'll have a nice talk with Mr. Otis.'
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