I was just curling up with Fast Times at Ridgemont High on TBS, still nursing Friday’s hangover, when I received a delightful call from Krissie out of nowhere.
“HAY!” Krissie’s typical greeting.
“Hey girl, aren’t you at work?”
“Yep, sure am!” She lowered her voice, and I could tell she was talking out of the corner of her mouth. “I don’t know how the hell I made it through yesterday’s shift.”
“Tell me about it, I was sure we all wound up fired and homeless!”
“Ha ha, no, I did make it here… Only 15 minutes late. Buuuutt, Charli, we are so busy! We need help! The holiday season is upon us, and the West Village is dying for chic, design-y gifts. Would you want to work weekends here through Christmas?”
Krissie is a salesperson at MXLPIX, a longstanding West Village gift and housewares boutique with a humorous, modern bent.
“What would I do?”
“You’d work with meeeeee!”
“On the floor?”
“Yeah! It’s the best! You just write receipts, help keep things stocked and explain our products to the neighborhood folks. Come on, Charli, you have to, you’d be perfect!”
“What are the hours?”
“Saturday eleven to seven, Sunday noon to five. Fifteen dollars an hour.”
I did some mental calculations.
Rapidly growing credit card bills + no boyfriend + no prospects + lackluster salary =
Weekend Job?
Yes, please!
“When do I start?”
“Next weekend! And you can work pretty much every weekend until Christmas?”
“Mmmmmm…. I was planning on going to Michigan for Thanksgiving.”
“I’ll say that you already have that booked.”
“Thanks, Kris…. So…. See you Saturday at MXLPIX at 11:00?” “Exactly! Thanks, girl!”
Now, to celebrate my last moments of freedom by laying in my room, watching TV and listening to music.
As you all know ~ the congregation is CE SOIR [2nite] CHEZ BLAKE ET MOI ~
A.k.a. Meserole Avenue, Greenpoint, Brooklyn.
We shall commence with the Monster Ale tasting, sponsored by Maria, amidst tunes, parquet floors, our couch from nerve.com, cheese + crackers, and happy colors.
Typing this while I change the tracks on my ipod (<3) and fold laundry on my bed. Blake pokes her head in.
“No America’s Next Top Model party tonight?” she asks.
“Nah… I was too tired from the weekend to coordinate. But I don’t think Gerard is in town and Maria never wrote me back… I even offered to charge a big bottle of Yellowtail! Can you believe she didn’t write back?”
“Did she text you about Friday?”
“Yeah. What was up with that mass text?”
“Ok, so I guess she does this girls night every year where everyone drinks Monster Ale.”
“What is Monster Ale?”
“I dunno, I think it’s some seasonal thing from Brooklyn Brewery?”
“Ohhhh. . . Um, ok, whatever that means.”
“Well, at work today, she was asking if you and I would host.”
…..And, it’s back to the grind pour moi! My line was ringing off the hook all morning.
Shea didn’t go to work today, so no payday lunch. Not that I should be splurging anyway. I charged the flight and spent my last $28 cash on a car service from LaGuardia to Greenpoint. Luckily, I had a can of tuna and leftover celery and onion from last week, so I have sandwiches for the next three days. Leigh said she would buy me a three Coke Zeros and a drink on Friday in exchange for half of my sandwich for the next three days. Deal.
October has 31 days, and I don’t know how I’m going to make it to the end…. I’ve already spent today’s check on a bunch of ebay auctions that all ended while I was on the plane…. And I charged all these good finds at Underground Sounds and The Getup Vintage. And I kept buying rounds of drinks at The Blind Pig…! Gah, put me in an attic and I will buy just about anything!
What the hell is wrong with me? / At least I will look cool?
I’m in love with the small town life, corn mazes and nights at The Blind Pig. Ah, the old familiar, old faithful townies at the bar. Well Drinks are now $3.50, up from $1.80, so some things do in fact change. I must admit everyone admiring my big purple blanket scarf and 70s gray leather jacket makes me feel cool. I’m not your middle-of-the-road midwest Michigander anymore. I have a life and things to say about it.
But I’ll take your corn mazes and cheap drinks and rides home down the back roads in the Corolla with Monica and Georgianne, jammin’ the radio.
Back to that apple, I go…. My heart hurts to leave, but something calls me to come back.
Laying in my twin bed in what was my high school bedroom. I’ve retreated here after spending ten minutes having breakfast with the parental units around 7:30 am.
“Rick! Did you pack the cooler yet? Char, you gettin’ up? We’re leaving in about a half hour,” my mom called from the top of the stairs. I was sleeping soundly in the dark quiet of my subterranean bedroom. My mother has no capacity to keep quiet in the mornings, nor any sympathy for those who sleep later than her.
“Terri! Where’d you throw my blue jeans, huh?” Rick, a.k.a. my dad, yelled back in response, not hearing her question and mirroring my mom’s morning volume, only he was standing right outside of my door.
Time to get up and spend thirty minutes together, I guess they wanted me to know. I padded up the stairs in a pair of burgundy waffle knit shorts (eighth grade pyjama bottoms) and my worn in army green Stellen Pavement t-shirt, both items resurrected from my old dresser.
“I made you a fruit salad! Welcome home, honey,” my mom said, pulling a tray of bacon out of the oven. “Did your dad pack the cooler? I gotta get changed or I’m gonna be runnin’ behind,” she said to no one in particular.
“Char-layyyyy! What’s up, little one, I didn’t think we’d get to see you this weekend, since you’re so busy gallivanting with your friends,” my dad greeted me from the counter, drinking coffee and eating fruit salad.
“Of course I’m going to see you, Dad. You and Mom are the ones who are going to be gone tonight.”
“Well, it’s not like you came home at a reasonable hour last night, honey,” my mom replied, adding a playful jab.
“Mom! I didn’t even land until 10! You two were asleep by then anyway.” I took a bite of banana, strawberry, blueberry and green grape from a beige bowl with salmon pink trim.
“We’re just teasing. I gotta get changed. Rick, grab my saddle pad on your way out, will you?”
“I already put it in the truck. Where you going tonight, baby girl?” my dad pulled me over to give me a big hug.
“Mmmmm probably The Blind Pig…”
“Ah. The usual. What are you girls doing beforehand? Rammin’ the streets?”
“I don’t know. It’s not even 8 a.m.”
“Well, have fun. We love you. Don’t drink and drive. See you next time, sweetheart, I hope for a little bit longer.”
“Dad, I’ll be back.”
My mom breezed through the kitchen, carrying a pair of lace-up Justin boots. “We gotta go, Rick. You ready?”
“Yep, I was just about to tie my lucky bandana around my neck and head down to the truck.” My dad rose and the happy couple marched downstairs toward the garage, my mom chattering on about today’s team penning instructor’s credentials.
“Bye Char!” she yelled from the bottom of the stairs.
I picked up both of their breakfast dishes and put them in the sink. Last one to rise does all the clean up, I guess… I find two advil and go back to sleep, happy the parental engagement is done for the weekend…
The week is ca-rawl-ing by, and I am hoping to pass it further by writing this at the office. For once, I am excited to go home. I haven’t been to Michigan in October since ‘03, when I was working at Somerset Collection. What a strange year that was, when I stayed in Royal Oak for a few months before I moved to NYC. I am so glad I no longer have to justify my every move to my mother. Clearly, in our relationship, absence makes the heart grow fonder.
Hi Sweetheart, glad to hear you’re coming home. Dad and I have a horse show. We won’t be around much, but we’ll see you Saturday morning. I guess that will have to do. Love, MOM
Ask and ye shall receive. 😉
[My line rings]
“Charli speaking.”
“Hey, come over to my desk, will you? I need something from you over the weekend.” Ugh. Cash. What does that turncoat want now? And what could he possibly want from me over the weekend?
I rise and make a u-turn to enter Cash’s row. Because he is too creative and unique to sit in the Executive Area, his seating status-indicator is the fact that he sits between the window and an empty desk and has two overhead cabinets.
“Have a seat, Charls.”
I feel frustration quivering just beneath my eye sockets and in my hands.
“So you’re going home this weekend, right?”
“Yes,” I hiss. I don’t mean to hiss, but it comes out a hiss.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. What do you need me to work on?”
“Are you upset?”
“No.”
“Let’s go in the Executive Lunch Room, shall we?”
We file out of the row and turn right towards the kitchen where Kwan prepares the Executive Lunch everyday. She is putting away the day’s spread. She and Cash nod to each other, and we enter the Executive Lunch Room, closing the door behind us. We have the room to ourselves and cross the Oriental rug and take seats in opposing high back toile wing chairs, a round walnut Chippendale tea table separating us.
Cash is giving me a strange look and I am doing my best to seem okay, trying to appear blank and patient, yet avoiding eye contact with him.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing, what do you need me to do this weekend? I guess I can cancel my trip if you need me to,” I tremble, fighting myself.
“I don’t need you to do anything this weekend! I was going to make a joke and say I needed you to spend some time with this!” Cash sets a small white rectangular box on the table. “You don’t have an iPod, do you?”
“No….”
“Use this on the plane!”
“What…? Why—”
“You’ve been doing a great job. I got this for you. To say thank you. Enjoy it this weekend! It makes all traveling one thousand times better! But, Charli, what the hell is wrong?”
“Thank you, Cash, that’s really awesome,” I rush through the sentence and a few tears force their way out. “I’m sorry. I just …. Thought you were going to make me cancel my trip and do work!”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because it’s happened before. Ranch Junior made me come in on a Saturday with no notice. And I already work four Saturdays a year here, doing inventory, which you all don’t have to do.”
“Ohhhhh…. I see.”
“I hate Ranch Junior, and you used to hate him too, but now you are just like him.” I couldn’t help it.
“Ok. Point taken. Charli, you do a great job and you are the backbone of my team. I need your help. I have to play the game with them, and I need someone good behind the scenes to make sure that what needs to happen is happening. You’re great at that.”
“Well, thanks, but I just feel like everyone is just always telling me what to do and they don’t know how many other things I am doing and I am just always cleaning up everybody’s messes. And they’re jerks too!”
“Ok, try to take a step back a bit. You’re working with me in merchandising. We are at the forefront. It’s a lot of back work and leg work, but you get to be on the inside track of the creative on everything. You’re the right person for this, Charli. You are a with-it person. You just have to learn how to deal with the Ranches to advance in this side of the business.”
“Well, I don’t know if this is for me.”
“What do you mean? You’re amazing at this job, and this is a great opportunity.”
“I went to school for fashion, and I all do is enter numbers into a system all day and do whatever you all ask me to do. I am too broke to afford to buy any cool clothes and too busy to make them. And this jewelry that I work on all day is for men! I can’t even wear it. And! I can’t afford it if I wanted to. And it’s not even real gold…”
“I see…. You know, Charli, merchandisers are like movie producers. We accomplish the big picture. This is a great chance for you to learn how that works, and then you can apply it to other things…. So…. Let’s try to get you more involved in other projects…. So you can start to learn how to do your own things.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. So what? I think it’s what we need to do. And how about my back work and leg work pun a moment ago?” Cash gives me a wry look. “So what? Oh, and uh, will you check out your iPod?”
“Sure, thank you so much.” I open the box, sliding out a metallic green matte finish iPod Nano, pristine in its sleek plastic tray. I take it out and turn it around in my hands, and feel the smooth green aluminum. I turn it over in the palm of my hand.
To my surprise I found the back engraved with a message for me.
Not that I should be splurging anyway. I charged the flight and spent my last $28 cash on a car service from LaGuardia to Greenpoint. Luckily, I had a can of tuna and leftover celery and onion from last week, so I have sandwiches for the next three days. Leigh said she would buy me a three Coke Zeros and a drink on Friday in exchange for half of my sandwich for the next three days. Deal.
deux mille six 