September 2, 2009

Instead of leaving work on time Friday night I stayed to help two middle aged women. While one of the women was trying on a pair of oiled leather boots she asked if I had ever heard of National Pedorthic Services. The woman asked if I had a business card, she also told me that I should come and work for NPS. Man trying on shoes is a fictional story about some customers I wanted to remember. At the time I was annoyed with the guy who let his kids tear up the store but my patience paid off when he sent a friend of his back to see me.

People respond positively to energy, excitement and enthusiasm which are three things I bring to the sales floor. Friday night I was tired, I was hungry, I wanted to go home and I did not want to be listening to two overweight women chatting about their teenage daughters. Because I stayed to help I made some money for myself, I generated income for our store, possibly I will get a new job but if not this has still been a valuable lesson for me.

Had I chosen to go home when I was scheduled to I wouldn't have had the opportunity to meet someone who is in a position to help me. Negativity is everwhere. Successs at my job means being able to turn that attitude around so every customer has a positive shoe experience. When you meet a stranger you may not know what they can do to help you therefore it makes sense to treat others the way you'd like to be treated. Respect is an investment in other people. Don't be surprised when the dividends come back to you.

I opened the door and set my sack of groceries down on your smooth granite counter tops. Earlier I was thinking I would make chicken saytay for you. I was caught up in that and putting the groceries away before I noticed you hadn't greeted me the way you normally do. I double-checked the driveway - saw your car - glanced down the hallway, peeked into your little office at the empty desk and dark monitor. I was about to turn back to the kitchen, maybe send you a message or something, but that was before I saw your sassy pink toenails against the comforter.

I paused for a sec, taking in the view. Maybe this sounds creepy but watching you sleep always makes me feel more peaceful. Your bare leg stuck out beneath the sheets. Sunlight filtering through the sides of your window made your skin glow. Memories of our first nap together came back to me. I remembered the heat and I remembered you curling into me. My eyes drifted back to your body, thinking that the curve of your waist fits my hand the way Pygmalion's would flow to awaken his new lover. Then I imagined what we would do if I interrupted your siesta.

I wanted to tell you I'm sorry about the fight. It didn't have anything to do with you, but you have a tendency to take things personally even after I explain that I'm not mad at you. There's a lot of things I want to tell you but these are the most important:
-I like spending time with you and I think we're a good couple
-You're much, much more to me than just a booty call
-I love it when you call me at work to see how my day's going
That's what I was going to tell you but now I'm wondering why I'm alone and you're in bed before seven.

I'm kind of worried that you didn't have any supper. I want to know if you're still pissed or if you forgot I said I might drop by. For all I know you don't even want to talk to me or see me again. Right now I want to lie down next to you, kiss you and luxuriate in your sleepy smile when you wake up in my arms. I can't stop thinking of the lips my lips have kissed. I'm watching you innocently sleeping, your face is scrubbed, your hair is back, you're so calm and serene lying there that I feel guilty as hell for picking a fight with you. I really want to hold you but I need a chance to talk to you first. Give me a call or stop by sometime. In the meantime, enjoy your nap.

This is another one of these days; the ones that gently (or roughly) float you by. The ones that never seem to change anything but when you look back everything has changed. The ones where there’s a long stretch of silence across the dinner table besides the occasional clinking of Mum’s favourite cutlery which mind you, only comes out on special occasions. The ones where you sigh and feel a slight feeling of dread come over you because you know the bad life is finally catching up.
That's the moment right there: The moment you realize you're not who you used to be at all but a mere copy of your old self who had been left somewhere behind a long time ago, and you know isn't coming back. And then you suddenly think ahead, your old self not coming back is probably for the best. It's probably better you never find out. Because searching for the truth is like digging up concrete with a broken fingernail. It hurts.

She is not into it, anymore. She is with someone else, apparently in the long-distance relationship she didn't want with me. She invaded my bar last Tuesday, began talking to me. I looked at her coldly and left abruptly when a friend saw us and called me out for a cigarette.

A brief respite: thinking about the trials and tribulations of the last year, month by month, in painstaking detail.

While Yackity Sax is playing.