 
++

## SEE YOU IN THE FUNNY PAPERS!

By

### G. Howard Poteet

PUBLISHED BY

G. Howard Poteet - Smashwords Edition

ISBN # 978-131-137-9504

SEE YOU IN THE FUNNY PAPERS!

Copyright © 2016 by G. Howard Poteet

All Rights Reserved. This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author, except for brief quotations embodied in reviews. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. All characters and storylines are the property of the author and your support and respect are appreciated.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons living or dead, or places, events, or locales are purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author's imagination and used fictitiously.

### Table of Contents

Chapter 1 Work

Chapter 2 Politics

Chapter 3 Family

Chapter 4 Prejudice

Chapter 5 Status

Chapter 6 Teamwork

Chapter 7 Satisfaction

Chapter 8 Resolve

Chapter 9 Education

Chapter 10 Military

Chapter 11 Reference

Chapter 12 Opportunity

### SEE YOU IN THE FUNNY PAPERS!

Chapter 1 - Work

January 1953

_Monday_ : "I've been as busy as a one-legged man in an butt-kicking contest." That was the elderly Sol (size 44 Portly). Our suit salesman, he waved his unlit cigar at me as he left for home.

We're having our January 1953 Annual Clearance Sale at Joseph's Men's Fashion Clothing Store here in the city, and we are busy, busy, busy. The reason? Our customers truly believe in our motto which is _A man is judged by the clothes he wears_. This is especially true when he or -- more likely his wife -- can get them on sale.

Now, to get down to brass roots, I, yours truly, am the youngest person ever hired to sell haberdashery at Joseph's. White-haired Sol is the oldest, having been here forever, but he's now in the suit department. But, this story is about me, and how I'm making my way in the world. I've been employed here since September of last year.

This is only one of my many lifetime achievements. I am a high school graduate, the first in my family. In addition, last year, when I was a senior in high school, I was the first part-time male soda jerk ever employed by the well-known chain store, Doug's Drugs in my hometown. Now, I am making a name for myself as a Professional Men's Fashion Consultant in the haberdashery department here at Joseph's in the big city. In case you don't know, Joseph's is the finest men's clothing store in the city and probably the state.

Well, sir, since it is closing time, along comes The Dragon Lady herself, our owner, Miss Estelle Rosenstein. I call her that, though not to her face, because she behaves just like that woman in _Terry and the Pirates_. I said to her, respectfully, "Good night, Miss Rosenstein."

Staring over my head, she replied, "Just look at the disgraceful way you left those neckties, Bob," which, by the way, is my co-worker's name, not mine. Miss Rosenstein is always flying off the handle about something, but I'm not going to let her get my goat. I recalled Batman's advice to Robin after The Joker had said something uncomplimentary: "Our time is too valuable to waste in getting upset over criticism." So, I didn't say nothing.

I just let her continue waving her hands and complaining, "You must display our merchandise properly, young man. You've turned those regimental stripe ties into what looks like a mile of flags, a tile of bags, er... a pile of rags haven't you, Bob? Mercy!"

What did she say? Miss Rosenstein often makes mistakes like that when she speaks. But you don't dare correct her or laugh. As I quickly put the ties in apple-pie order, Roy (size 42 Short), the buyer for the haberdashery department, called out, "Ok, fellows, it's time to close up." This was the signal for my co-worker Bob (size 46 Portly Long) and me (size 38 Long) to put all loose stock away on the shelves, which we did.

"You know," I said to Bob as we both folded some pullover sweaters. "Everybody here at Joseph's looks like a character in the comic strips. To me, Roy is the spitting image of Smilin' Jack right down to the thin mustache."

"You and them comic strips. That's all you ever talk about," said Bob.

"Well, this morning you told me that I look like a slender Joe Palooka."

"What I said was you look like a skinny palooka."

Anyways, when we finished putting away stock, I put on my new tweed overcoat, which I bought from Joseph's using my employee discount.

"Tweed," Bob said, fingering it, "Wears like iron. I, myself, have one, which I hate. It's more than 20 years old and I can't, you know, wear it out. I 'm sick of looking at it."

"Unh hunh," I said and donned my new stingy-brim hat, which I also just bought with my employee discount. I used two hands on the brim, one positioned at two o'clock and one at eight, just like the factory rep showed us. I like to do things right as rain. Keeps the brim in shape, the factory rep said. I explain the technique to all my customers to show my expertise.

Since it was time to go, Steve the stock-boy (size 36 Long) was turning up the collar of his black leather motorcycle jacket, the one with all the zippers. In a moment, he was at door. He says he looks like Li'l Abner. I don't think so, but his girlfriend sure looks exactly like Daisy Mae. She was waiting outside for him. It's true that he's a younger employee than I am, but he is only a stock-boy.

"See you later, Alligator," he said to me as he left.

"After while, Crocodile," I replied, without blinking an eye. As you can see, I can speak anybody's language, no matter how low-class they may be.

As I do every night after leaving work, I walked over to Pop's Grille for their Salisbury Steak Supper Special. Afterwards, when I got back to my furnished room on North Third Street, I said, "Hi" to my elderly landlady, Connie, who is more than forty years old, and resembles Mary Worth. She was in the kitchen ironing, as usual, watching some news program on her new second-hand Dumont seven-inch television set, which is sitting on top of the fridge.

She had on some news program about Eisenhower's inauguration. I had completely forgotten about it, what with our annual sale and everything. "Golly Ned, what a terrific President Ike is going to be," Connie said. "Now we'll get rid of those rotten commies."

Me, even though I am a high school graduate, I don't claim to know nothing about politics. As for General Eisenhower, I only know he looks exactly like Daddy Warbucks.

One thing I do know a lot about is the comics. In my furnished room, I thumbed through a couple of Superman comic books from the pile stacked on my bureau. Superman comic books are the only ones I buy now, except for Batman. When I was a youngster, I once had a total of one thousand, eight hundred and thirty-some comic books piled up on a rickety old table in my room at home. I used to read and trade them all the time. But, my mom always complained that they might catch on fire and burn us all up.

One day when I wasn't home, she gave them away to some church people collecting waste paper in a scrap drive for the war effort. Needless to say, I was fit to be tied when I came home and found out what she had done. But, there wasn't nothing I could do about it. Anyhow, after that, I actually stopped reading and trading comic books and just read the daily and Sunday newspaper strips. Recently, when Bob told me that kids read comic books and adults read the newspaper comic strips, I felt right at home because I am no longer a kid.

_Tuesday_ : This morning, in came Sol, our suit salesman, who looks like Uncle Phil in _Mickey Finn_ although Sol isn't Irish. Anyways, he came in the store and cracked his daily joke: "I invested in paper towels and revolving doors. I got wiped out before I could turn around."

I didn't think that the joke was nothing to write home about, but Bob and Roy busted out laughing. So, I did, too, to be polite. Sol used to be in vaudeville, or so he says, so, he should know what's funny and what isn't.

Now, I should explain that, although I was never in vaudeville, I have a natural talent for cracking jokes. There is no doubt in my mind that back when vaudeville was popular, I would have been a headliner.

But, anyways, back to business. Let me show you what I do for my bread all the livelong day, OK? This customer who looked like he could be a rassler on TV came in and asked for night-shirts, which we don't carry. I pulled some broadcloth PJs off the shelf, and said, "We don't carry night-shirts but we do have these broadcloth pajamas."

He shook his head. "No, thanks. I'll just let it go." When the guy walked out without buying anything, Roy came over and asked me, "What happened?"

"He wanted night-shirts," I explained, putting the broadcloth PJs back in stock. "When he heard that we don't carry them, the sale was deader than a hangnail."

Roy looked very unhappy and said, "You mean deader than a _doornail_. Let's face it; you should've turned the sale over to me to see if I could switch him to something else. Just remember _Rule Number One_!"

"Ok," I said. "I know _Rule Number One_. Every person who walks into the store should be turned into a customer by selling them merchandise, converting them to an alternative, suggesting other merchandise, or turning them over to you, Roy."

"Ok," he said.

In the later afternoon, Sol came downstairs from the suit department with a young male customer following behind him. Sol was carrying a duplicate of the suit that was in the window this month. As might be expected, it was a deep charcoal gray which is by far the most popular suit color that men are wearing at present.

"See, Tim," said Sol to his customer, "it's exactly the same suit, right?"

"Yes, Sol, that's it, that's the suit," said the young man, who looked a little puzzled.

"Now, Roy, come here a minute," said Sol, as Roy and Bob and I walked over. "This is a size 42 Regular charcoal gray suit which is our best selling suit, and which most men would die for. My friend Tim here has offered to change into this suit in our window. That will draw mobs of young ladies from blocks around, I am sure."

"Wait a minute, Sol!" shouted the young man. ""I didn't say that."

"What?" said Sol. "Just a few minutes ago, Tim came up to the suit department. If you don't know, Tim is the son of an old friend of mine. His grandfather is an old friend as well. Tim is a lawyer, so you know he tells the truth at all times. When you came up to see me, you said that you would change into this suit in the window."

"Sol, I did not. No such thing."

"Now, Tim. What did you say to me when you came up to the suit department. You said, and these are your exact words. You said, 'Can I try on that charcoal gray suit in your window?' And I said, yes, you can, so here we are."

Sol opened up the door to the display window. We all were laughing at this point, the young man most of all.

"Isn't that what you said?" said Sol with a straight face.

"Well, yes, I said that but what I meant was \--"

"Tim, you're a lawyer. We expect you to say exactly what you mean."

"Sol, I meant I wanted to try the suit on in your fitting room."

"You mean you aren't going to change clothes in our display window?"

"Ok," said Sol. "Well sorry, boys. I thought we would draw a big crowd outside on the sidewalk." He and Tim went back upstairs to joking comments by Roy and Bob.

Then Roy's best friend, Jonathan, came in . Now, since I already told you that Roy looks like Smilin' Jack, you probably expect that Roy's best friend looks just like Downwind who is Smilin' Jack's co-pilot and best friend. And you would be right.

In case you don't remember, Downwind is the one who is so handsome all the "deicers," as women are called in the strip, swoon over him. You never get to see his face because he always has his head turned. Now Jonathan doesn't do that but he is still like Downwind. I point this out because I don't want you to confuse Jonathan with the Mexican mechanic in the comic strip who is so fat the buttons keep popping off his shirt and into the mouth of a chicken.

Bob, Roy and I were chatting with Jonathan when Miss Rosenstein walked up and said, "Don't just stand there talking, fellows. That nock steeds, er, stock needs to be put away." Bob and I hopped to it. Miss Rosenstein, Roy and Jonathan continued chatting.

Then, when Tim came downstairs, Roy went over to him and said that any one of us would be glad to help him pick out a matching shirt, tie, and socks when he picked up his suit. "And we won't make you try them on in public," said Roy laughing.

After work, when I got home, I was beat, so I stretched out on my bed and listened to the _Red Rambler Show_ on my radio. Red is a local disk jockey or dee-jay as the teenagers say.

Tonight, Red happened to play two of my current favorite songs in a row: first, Nat 'King' Cole singing _Pretend_ , and, then, Les Paul and Mary Ford doing _Vaya Con Dios_. I like these songs very much, and I am sure that if I had a girlfriend, they would be our favorite songs. Connie, who is my landlady, you remember, came upstairs and said, "Would you turn that down?" Then, she added, "Who is that you are listening to?"

"Red Rambler."

"Red?" she said, opening her eyes wide, "Red? I hope he isn't a commie."

"No, no, he ain't no commie," I said. "They call him that because he has red hair."

"Well, I don't want no commie music in my house!"

"I know," I said, and without a further word, she turned and went downstairs.

_Wednesday_ : At breakfast at the lunch counter in this city's branch of Doug's Drugs, where I usually have coffee and a bagel, which is a kind of Jewish food, a disheveled fellow, who could be taken for Uncle Willie in _Moon Mullins_ , smiled politely and said to me, "Good morning, my friend. Do you have a job?"

Even though he called me his friend, I didn't think that I knew the gentleman, but I was polite as I always try to be. It's true that a lot of people know who I am because of the position I hold at a prestigious establishment. "Yes," I answered, modestly, "I am a professional fashion consultant at Joseph's."

Like I say, when I tell people that I work at Joseph's, they frequently look at me with admiration and respect because the store is so well-known for being a high-class place. In addition, I apparently appear to be a retail authority figure even when I'm shopping in other stores, for people are always coming up and asking me, "Do you work here?" or "How much is this?"

However, this guy says to me, "Oh, sir, I'm happy to hear that you are working because I'm not. So, would you be kind enough to lend me some money for breakfast? Don't worry, I intend to pay you back." He looked at me with a pitiful look, like those paintings of the little kids with the big sad eyes that you see all over the place. So, I gave him fifty cents, but, afterwards, I felt I was being taken advantage of because I wasn't born yesterday. I am pretty sure that the fellow won't ever pay me back. I began to realize that he was just like Wimpy begging for money to buy a hamburger in _Thimble Theater_. Looking back on it now, I realize that it was then I first began to understand how comic strip characters and their stories influenced my life and made me think and act the way I do.

When I got to work, the main door was unlocked, and, the Dragon Lady was already there on the sales floor. She wiggled her finger at me, calling me over to the tie counter.

"You're late. Bob. Well, are you the one who arranged these cravats?"

"Yes, " I answered proudly, pleased that she had noticed the effort that I had put into arranging the neckties by color, but annoyed that she still called me Bob, which is not my name.

"Well, frankly, Bob," she said, "they took lerrible, er, look terrible. Obviously, you don't appreciate being in charge of displaying prerequisite rabbits, er, habits, er, cravats, in an elegant store like ours. Maybe you would prefer to work some place else, Bob."

"Oh, no," I said. "I like working here very much."

"Well, then, please fix this tie arrangement"

I started to do so as she walked away. But, a man was in our hat department, and I went to wait on him. After I sold him a hat, he went up to see Sol while I put his initials in the hat, using the machine in the cubby-hole under the stairs. Unfortunately, its foil holder came apart and one of the screws fell back of the cabinet. While I was on the floor, trying to find it, I heard some little old lady talking to Steve the stock-boy.

"Pardon me. young man, can you direct me to your facilities?"

"What?" said Steve the stock-boy.

"I wish to visit your comfort station."

"Comfort station?"

"Yes, please direct me to your cloakroom."

"Cloakroom? What's a cloakroom?"

I started to get up and lost another screw from the part I held in my hand.

'Your powder-room, then. You must have one."

"I don't know what you are talking about, lady," said the ever-gracious Steve the stock-boy.

"Oh, dear," said the little old lady.

At this point, I extricated myself from the initial stamping machine and its parts and emerged from the cubby hole. "She's looking for the lady's room," I said.

"Well why didn't she say so? If you are looking for the john . . ."

"Go up the stairs and it's on your right just before the sports coats," I said. "Men and women use the same bathroom."

"Oh, gracious me!" the little old lady said.

"Not at the same time!" I said, hastily.

"Never mind," she said and walked sprightly out of the store.

I just looked at the Steve the stock-boy.

"I never heard all them words," he said, "Cloak room, comfort station. Everybody I know calls it the john or the toilet or the --"

"Stop!" I said, and I went back into the cubby-hole to search for the missing screws.

After work, and after my usual conversation with Connie, I reached my room. For some reason, I began thinking about a comic strip which I hadn't read for awhile since the paper has stopped running it. The strip was _Alley Oop_ with its great action, clever dialog and sometimes stunning artwork. What did it teach me? Just that the personalities of cave men and women were not much different than ours.

An entirely different world is the one in _Our Boarding House_ where Major Hoople is the central character in a boarding house run by his wife, Martha. It is very wordy for usually the dialogue in the speech balloons takes up half the panel. This isn't a strip but a single panel although the story or theme sometimes continues from day-to-day. The main appeal is either the outlandish stories that the major tells about his exploits since he claims to have been everywhere and have done everything or the ridiculous ways he dreams up to achieve fame or fortune. It teaches you that in dealing with most people, you can believe half of what you see and none of what you hear and vice versa.

_Thursday_ : On Thursdays, we open at noon and work until 9. So, this afternoon, when we weren't busy with customers, Bob, acting the fool, was imitating Arthur Godfrey by chanting, "Hawaii, Hawaii, Hawaii," and strumming a sweater box in place of a ukulele. Miss Rosenstein saw him, and she said, with a frown, "Hello, fou yellows. Stop that. Furthermore, you both need to pay closer attention to what you wear. This isn't an army-navy surplus store. You look like a cuddle of bobos, err, a couple of hobos."

Bob, who is middle age, at least thirty years old, has never developed any fashion sense in all those years. Today, for example, he wore a double-breasted navy-blue serge suit, which is shiny and out of style, and, even worse, brown wing-tip shoes. Everyone knows that you can't wear brown shoes with a blue suit. It is simply disgusting to see someone like Bob with such poor taste advising others on what to wear.

I said, "Don't you know you never wear brown shoes with a blue suit? That's what ticked Miss Rosenstein off."

"Of course, you can, " he replied. "Miss Rosenstein was referring to your, you know, wearing a striped tie with a striped shirt." Anyways, I didn't reply because I want to get along with my co-workers, as you must, even when your co-workers can't accept your constructive criticism.

Then, I waited on a guy who was wearing a fur overcoat over an outlandish outfit consisting of, a boldly striped blue zoot suit complete with pegged pants, a polka dot dress shirt with a Mr. B. collar, and blue suede shoes. This outfit was topped off with a red wide-brimmed pork pie-hat. "Hello there," he said in a booming voice, "I'm Sandy Shore. You may have heard of me. I'm appearing in the touring company stage production of _Guys and Dolls_. I play Nathan Detroit. We're here at the Civic Center tonight and tomorrow. I'm looking for a tie to match this. It's my stage outfit."

"Ok," I said when he paused long enough for me to answer. Everyone in the store was staring at him.

"I need something that will just jump out at the audience. I know what you are going to say. The wardrobe mistress usually supplies us with our costumes, and you are right, but she seems to have lost my stage tie and she couldn't come up with a tie that we both liked. So, she sent me over here to pick out one."

"Ok." I said and picked out a silver tie.

He ignored my choice and began rummaging though our stock, jabbering all the time. Finally, he yanked one out from deep in the pile.

"Got it," he said. "Yes! Perfecto! If you see the show tonight you will understand why I picked this tie. It will sock them right in the old eye-a-roonie!"

He looked at the price tag, peeled off the correct amount from his wallet. " Give me a receipt so I can get my money back from the company." He said. I did and he was out of the store it seemed as quickly as he came. Everybody was still staring at him, even out on the street. Of course I was left with the job of straightening up the neckties.

Jody came in right after I returned from supper. She is about my age and she works here part-time because she is studying to enter a profession. When she graduates, she will become a licensed practical nurse.

Roy gave her a hug and said, "Well, hello, Blondie." He calls her that because she has blonde hair, not because she looks like Mrs. Dagwood Bumstead in the funny papers. In fact, Jody is not even married.

"Busy day today at school?" Roy asked.

"I was just going to say that. You took the words right out of my mouth," she said.

We were busy for a long while after that. Then, during a lull, I walked over to Jody.

"I don't know what I am going to do tonight after we get off," she said. "What are you going to do?"

"Uh, I will probably organize my comic books or something."

"Oh," she said," Do you want me to come and help you?"

"Um, my landlady don't like girls coming to her house."

"Oh," she said and she looked at me kind of funny.

So, like I say, we work until 9:00 on Thursday night, and, after work, I said goodnight to Jody. She seemed to pause for a moment, as if she expected me to say something else, and then she wrapped her beige suede coat tight around her thin figure and strode off towards her bus stop. Like all blondes, she is an attractive female. Since I do not have a girlfriend, I guess you might say I notice things like that.

I went directly home, and Connie looked out of the kitchen. "Want to watch the news on TV later?"

I didn't want to come right out and say so, but I hate to sit in the kitchen to watch her TV, so, I just said, "No, thanks, anyways," and went up to my room.

_Friday_ : We had a very slow day, and, in the afternoon, Roy was called upstairs for a conference with Miss Rosenstein.

As we stood in the front of the store waiting for customers, Bob turned to me and said, "You know what? This morning, I went to ask for Miss Rosenstein for a raise. She says to me that she can't do it just now, but she'll, you know, discuss it later this year." I noticed that Bob was wearing his blue suit but he had on black shoes.

"Oh?" was all I could think of to say.

"I told her that Rudolph's would hire me in a moon-dog minute. They realize how much, you know, business I can bring in."

"So, what did she say?" I asked.

"She said I should go to work there if I want," he said.

"Oh?" was all I could think of to say.

"That's a snapshot of what's in store for you. The longer you're here, the farther up the, you know, creek you are without a saddle."

"You mean without a _paddle_ , don't you?" I asked.

"I'm just trying to tell you there's no, you know, future for me and you here," said Bob. "I used to believe that you can make your own future wherever you are. They used to say there is diamonds in your own back yard. I don't believe that any more."

Anyhow, Bob has a habit in speaking in hackneyed phrases which is a term I just learned and really applies to his conversation. But, after that, we didn't get to talk much because customers started swarming in like bees.

Since we are having a sale, there are signs all over the place giving the discount prices such as 20% OFF! Yet, more than once , a customer has stood directly in front of a sign and asked me, "How much is your merchandise reduced.?"

Another customer asked me, "How much is this?" I pointed out the 20% off discount sign. I said, "The original price is $49.99. 20% off makes it roughly $40.00."

"Never," she said, "You don't know how to figure. 20% off would make the sale price a lot less than $40.00. Let me figure it out in my head." She went to the checkout and tried to calculate it on a piece of scrap paper there. Roy came by and she asked him. Then, she purchased the item from him and on her way out came to me. "I told you so," she said. "I was right. You need to learn arithmetic. It was less than what you said. It came to $39.99."

After the customers were taken care of, the sales floor it got quiet for a while. Roy had gone upstairs. Two of Steve the stock-boy's friends came in to talk with him. I called down the stairs to him. He sprinted up from the basement to stand around and chat with his buddies. Like Steve the stock-boy, each of his friends wore his hair in a D.A, and sported a black leather motorcycle jacket, dungarees, and black boots.

Being nosy, I listened in on their conversation.

"Hey, Big Daddy. What's happenin'?" said the tall one.

"Yo, My Man, Far out. I was 'bout to go ape down there," said Steve the stock-boy.

"Shoot. What you talkin' 'bout? You got it made in the shade," the shorter one said.

Steve the stock-boy said, " Well. I gots to work. Dig it. I needs the bread."

"Yo Bro, you on Cloud 9 with a gig in in a joint like dis," the tall one said, looking around. "Even though the threads they sellin' ain't for me."

"Yeah, but I gots to work six days a week."

"Rocky," said Shorty to the tall one, " You don't work one day a week."

"Don't bug me, man. I get by. Don't rattle my cage."

"Think you make the scene tonight?" Shorty asked Steve the stock-boy.

"Michelle gonna be there?" asked Steve the stock-boy.

"I dunno. I'm tellin' you, bro, don't mess with her. She's bad news, man."

"Uh oh! Here come my boss, man. He don't like to see me not slavin' away," said Steve the stock-boy. "You guys better split or he'll chew me out."

"Ain't that a kick in the head!" said Rocky. " I can dig it."

"We gone," said Shorty. "Like I put an egg in my shoe and beat it."

"Later," said Rocky to Steve the stock-boy.

Roy said very loudly," Did you finish putting price tickets on those sweaters?"

Steve the stock-boy waved and disappeared downstairs. His two friends left.

"I need to tell him not to let his hoodlum friends in the store," said Roy.

Wow, how different the teenagers are today than in my day because I am now an adult. And, even more different than teenagers in Bob's and Roy's day. For example, the comic strip _Harold Teen_ belongs to Bob's and Roy's generation or maybe even to Sol's teenage years. As a young kid and later as a teen, I rarely read the strip because it seemed out-of -date both in the way it was drawn and in the way it presented teenagers, the group I looked up to when I was a kid. None of them would ever dress or talk like Harold Teen and his friends, Breezier, Shadow, and Horace who hung out at Pop Jenk's Sugar Bowl.

My generation of teenagers was more like Archie and his friends, Jughead, Betty, and Veronica who lived in Riverdale. A lot of the stories revolve around Archie's high school which was like my major center of activity. Also, my school principal seemed to be like Archie's Mr. Weatherbee, and I had teachers like Mr. Flutesnoot and Miss Grundy, and I even had an enemy like Archie's enemy, Reggie, a student.

Finally, after work, I went home and worked on improving my vocabulary with my new second hand _Sherwin Cody's 100% Self-Correcting Course in the English Language_ because I want to improve my English and communicate better. The author, Mr. Sherwin Cody, says you need words to think and if you don't have the words you need you won't be able to think.

_Saturday_ : Today, before we opened, Roy gave us a brief description of some of the merchandise we will be selling this spring. Even though there is still snow forecast now, it won't be long until our sale will be over and our shelves will all be stocked with spring and summer merchandise.

So, Roy said, in place of all the flannel shirts now on sale, we will stock some lightweight short-sleeve shirts, which are wash-and- wear. They come in nice pastel colors as well as some strong plaids. Too, we will have hand woven madras shirts made in India which are very colorful but which must be ironed. Furthermore, in dress shirts, we have broadcloth, lightweight oxford cloth, and Egyptian cotton short-sleeved dress shirts on the way.

For summer, we will have lightweight versions of just about everything from socks to underwear to accessories. Roy says that even though it is still January and we are looking at February and March,, spring will be here before you know it and even before spring has sprung, we will have the merchandise on the shelves and people coming in for it. He says to mention that we have some beautiful stuff coming in the next few months so that they will be looking forward to it. He said when we make a sale; we should put our business card in each package and write on the card, "I hope to see you again soon" or something like that to get the customers coming back.

"OK, fellows," he said. "That's it! Let's go out there and knock them dead!"

Roy opened the door and customers started in. I waited on a young woman I have waited on many times. She was looking for a heavy wool flannel sport shirt for her boyfriend. After she selected a nice shirt that was on sale, I took Roy's advice and told her that we were just talking about the short-sleeved shirts coming in.

"Spring!" she said. "I wish! Look at me, bundled up in a sweater and an insulated coat and you're talking about wash-and-wear short-sleeve shirts. I can't believe it."

I put my card in her package but I didn't write anything about spring on it. Much the same thing happened with several other customers after that.

The only customer who said anything different was a middle- aged man who said that next week he was leaving for Miami.

I asked Bob about it and he said he was having the same response. "Just make a brief comment about how, you know, we look forward to seeing them again. Roy probably got his idea from Miss Rosenstein, so it may have just the reverse result from what they think."

When there was a lull, I got to talk with Jody, who works Thursday night and all day Saturday, "Jody, tell me. How long have you been studying to become a practical nurse?"

"Almost six months. I was just going to say since I graduated from Immaculate Conception High School in '51, but I didn't do anything for a while. When did you graduate?"

"From high school? '52. in my hometown," I said. "Then, after graduation, I came here during the summer to go to The Refrigeration Institute to learn air conditioning."

"What happened," she asked. "Did you quit?"

"No, I dropped out."

There was pause.

"Not because I was stupid and flunked out," I said.

"No, of course not."

"It was just too boring. So, I dropped out and started to work here in September."

Jody stared at me with her big brown eyes. I thought how much she looked like a blonde version of Dixie Dugan in the comic strips, but I didn't say nothing.

"Well, what are you going to do now?" she asked.

A customer came in before I could give her a good answer, which is that I'm sure I'll become rich and famous. I just haven't decided how. I got busier than busy, and the next thing I knew, it was 5:30, and I went home. I didn't get to say good night to Jody. I spent the evening reading and listening to _The Green Hornet_ and some other mysteries on my new radio, which I have bought on tick from "Uncle" Leroy, the eighty-some-year-old salesman at the KKK. And who is also my personal customer at Joseph's.

What Jody said ran through my mind. I realize that I need to decide what I am going to do the rest of my life. I mean that Joseph's is a glamorous place to work and I am successful there, but it makes me ask is this all there is? Or will I wind up like white-haired, dark-skinned "Uncle" Leroy begging for sales at run-down places like the Kaplan Kredit Kompany?

Connie called up the stairs, "Your mother is on the phone." My mother usually calls once a week on Saturday night. Some weeks she sends me a penny postcard instead. She usually tells me the local news if any and always lets me know what the preacher has scheduled for his sermon or what the message on the board in front of the church says. Tonight, she went on and on about the sign. "It says, ' _Please make me the person my dog thinks I am_.' Isn't that wonderful?" I always say yes to whatever she says. After a few minutes of this, she said "Goodbye."

When I hung up, Connie asked, "Want to watch _Show of Shows_ with Sid Caesar and Imogene Coca?"

"Thanks, but I want to listen to _Name that Tune_ on NBC," I said.

"Okay Doaky," she said.

_Sunday_ : During my entire life back home, I used to go to Sunday school and church on Sunday morning. And Sunday night. And Wednesday night, too. Now, that I am on my own, I don't go at all. Instead, I get up late and read the Sunday paper. Of course, I always read the funny pages first. People like Connie and Roy are always saying how the funny pages are childish and a waste of time. Probably, they think that the comic strip begins and ends with Mickey Mouse. The Walt Disney characters are clever and the strip is an excellent one, but I rarely even glance at it now that I am an adult. I do know that most kids who like the Disney character are much fonder of the adventures of Donald Duck and his relatives and friends than they are of Mickey and Minnie. Some of the Disney characters have faded away such as Horace Horsecollar and Clarabelle Cow. The comic strips that I like to read are quite different from Disney's characters anyway..

I think the comics are entertaining. But, they also they provide guidance as to what to do. I bet more people refer to them than they do to Shakespeare. For example, Connie, Bob, and even Roy use expressions from the funny papers all the time. But, anyway, I realize that I need to concentrate on my work and spend less time thinking about the comics. I seem to remember Daddy Warbucks saying to Annie someplace, "Luckily, some people want success so much they are willing to work for it." That describes me. So, even though talk is cheap, a word to the wise is sufficient. Think about work!

Ok, then. I sat in the chair in my room and re-read some old copies of _The Spirit_ , which is a comic strip I respect very highly. Since I was a little kid, I used to look forward each week to _The Spirit_ by Will Eisner. This was a full color comic book sixteen pages long, which is part of the Sunday newspaper or as Bob calls it the Sunday Nuisance. See, the Spirit is a private detective who lives in Central City's Cemetery. No kidding. He has what looks to me like an underground apartment.

I believe I'm like the Spirit in too many ways to count. Now, don't laugh. I don't mean that I am a private detective although I could be if I wanted to. I am good hearted like the Spirit. I am honest like the Spirit. My mind is sharp just like the Spirit's. I am even tall and slim just like the Spirit. If I decided to become a detective, like he is, I know I could be a great success. Many times when something happens and I am not sure of what to do, I ask myself what would the Spirit do and I do the same thing.

For example, I was in The Big Department Store the other day, and I saw this fellow just leaning up against the wall holding a woman's purse. Well, like the Spirit watching out for lawbreakers, I went to The Big Department Store's Security Office to report the guy as a purse-snatcher. One of their plain-clothes officers guys went back with me. He kept saying, "If he wanted to snatch a purse why didn't he run away?"

I didn't say anything. I just kept thinking, _OK Officer Wise-guy, just you wait and see_. However, when we got there, it turned out the guy was just holding his wife's purse when she went in the dressing room to try on a dress or something. Like I told the guy from security, you must admit that I did the right thing and don't laugh. That guy _could_ have been a purse-snatcher. You have to admit he was very suspicious looking.

Now, I should add The Spirit might seem at first to be the same as the other strips I am talking about. However, it isn't really a comic book and it isn't really a comic strip. And like I say, adults read the comic strips in the funny pages and kids read the comic books. So, that just goes to show you. Anyways, to get back to _The Spirit_. They seem to have dropped it from the Sunday paper. I don't know why.

The Spirit does not wear tights and a cape like most super heroes. He always wears the same blue serge suit, a blue hat, blue gloves, and a blue mask over his eyes! Like the Spirit, I, too, wear a suit almost all the time. Well, let my former classmates wear their overalls and coveralls and milk and bread deliveryman uniforms. I choose to wear a suit, which, besides being worn by the Spirit, is a universal symbol of success!

The comic strip character, the Spirit, who has no super powers, by the way, is friends with the head of police, Commissioner Dylan, in love with Dolan's daughter, and assisted by a young kid named Ebony White. There is always an unusual story -- sometimes comedy, sometimes mystery. The characters were always strange with unique names. Most of all, the strip always had an unusual look about it. Each panel is different, and looks at the action from a different angle or has an unusual shape, all of which are better drawn than maybe the _Steve Canyon_ strip and look like a scene from a movie.

So when Bob or somebody asks me what you can learn from comic strips, I say you can learn more from the funny pages than you can from just printed words alone because you have the added pictures which can be studied by themselves, or improved by the words. Certainly, you have heard the phrase: A picture is worth a thousand words. So, that is why I say that people can learn more from the funny pages than they do from books or magazines and newspapers. That is what I think and it is very, very true.

Chapter 2 - Politics

February 1953

_Monday_ : Things have been going so well lately that I'm as happy as a pig at a vegetarian picnic. My success is the result of my being able to relate to people of all sorts. Also, I keep up with current events, as well. So, I could probably become a successful politician if I decide to do so. I thought I might ask Roy's friend, Jonathan, about this. He said hello to me when he came in the store. He is an instructor at The Dance Studio, which is up the street. Today, he stopped by to go out to lunch with Roy, and he was carrying the paper.

"Did you see the news story about the Pope and the Rosenbergs?" he asked.

"No, "I said. "What happened?"

At that point Roy came by, and Jonathan walked out with him and didn't answer me. So, instead of chatting with Jonathan about my possible career in politics, I stood with Bob at the front of the store waiting for customers.

"I guess that I will just have to read the news to find out what happened myself."

"What happened to what?"

"To who," I said to Bob. "You know, since everybody comes to work carrying a newspaper, now, I do, too."

"Yeah, but you never read it," said Bob. "Except for the funnies."

"I do, too, read the paper. I never miss Walter Winchell's column."

"OK, then," said Bob, "What are the, you know, headlines in today's paper?"

"I'm not sure."

"Here, look," he said, picking up a copy of "The Daily Mirror" from the shoe department. He opened the paper to show me the front page: POPE TRIES TO SAVE ROSENBERGS.

"Yeah," I said, "but that kind of stuff ain't interesting."

"Not interesting?" Bob said.

"No, you should go to the movies and watch the newsreels and find out what the really interesting things are that are taking place such as the newest bathing suit styles, animal tricks, and stuff about famous people."

"Oh, yeah?"

"See, the eggheads can claim that newspaper headlines are important," I said. "But, they ain't as interesting as watching a newsreel which is what most people want."

"Tell me this," said Bob. "Are you a Democrat or a Republican?"

"I am an Independent or I will be when I am old enough to vote. However, I probably was a Republican in a previous life."

"In a previous life? You mean you believe in, you know, reincarnation?"

"Sure. Just yesterday, I read about some woman who was reincarnated. In fact, I, myself, was probably some famous person, like a king or a famous artist in a previous life."

"Oh, come on, what makes you, you know, think that?"

"I dunno. Anyway, I got a photogenic memory, and I'm gonna try to recall my past life."

"You mean _photographic_ memory," said Bob. "And I think that is one thing of many which you ain't got."

At this point, Miss R. came by and asked me, "Why haven't you rearranged the cravats on the shirt counter like I told you?"

"Sorry, I forgot," I told her.

"You forgot? You must remember those things, "she said. "We want a fresh display up each and every day."

I got to work on it on the double.

After work, I ate at Pop's Grille. When I got home, Connie came out with, "On the news they said that _only the party out of power knows how to run the government_." She went on to explain this at some length. Speaking for myself, it all went in one ear and out the other.

I decided to spend about fifteen or twenty minutes on _The Sherwin Cody 100% Self-Correcting Course in the English Language_. You probably have seen the ads for it that run in all the magazines such as _Popular_ _Mechanics_ and so forth, which show a little old man with a goatee. asking, "Do you make these mistakes in English?" Then it goes on to describe a complete correspondence course in how to express yourself in writing and conversation, spelling and pronunciation, punctuation, grammar, reading and vocabulary plus a lot of other stuff. This course first came out in 1919 but my copy was copyrighted in 1949, which means it is pretty modern and up to date according to the guy that owns the second-hand bookstore. I don't have to mail nothing -- I mean anything --away to the school. The book is made to correct me on its own.

_The Sherwin Cody 100% Self-Correcting Course in the_ _English Language_ consists of 25 booklets, each of which is about 24 pages long. Every one of these booklets is a lesson divided up and marked Monday through Friday with Saturday and Sunday off. It originally was expensive. But, according to the owner of the bookstore, I bought it cheap since I bought it second-hand from him. Even so, I had to put it on layaway and pay the bookstore by the week. Now I have it paid for I am going to use it. I realize that it is possible that I do not speak perfect English and I want to be able to do so to be a better salesman.

So, although I picked it up on my last payday, I have just skimmed through it. Now, starting today, I am going to get serious and do a little bit every day just as Mr. Sherwin Cody, the man what wrote the course, says to do. See, it starts on Monday and there is a lesson for each day of the week and a whole week is given in each booklet. Today's lesson is only two pages long and Mr. Cody asks me also to read the last two pages in the booklet before I begin so I know what to do and how to do it. I completed what I was assigned and resisted the temptation to go further until Mr. tells me to do so.

_Tuesday_ : When Sol came in to work today, he told a joke about politics which I decided to repeat to Connie. He said, " Our government has a two party system. When one party is in power, the other party is in jail." I guess the joke means that the other party has a lot of crooked politicians who deserve to be in jail. But that means that when the other party gets back in power, the former party will have its members in jail for being crooked. Which means the voters need to be wary of both political parties. I think my analysis is a good one. Probably, I should consider becoming a radio news commentator like Gabriel Heatter or Lowell Thomas.

We had a flurry of customers right after that, and I sold enough merchandise so I could say I made my quota before lunch, and I was feeling pleased as punch. But, then, it died out, and we had no one come on the floor for a spell.

Finally, a short, fat, gray-haired man came in, who looked just like the little guy in the _Monopoly_ game except he didn't have no monocle or top hat. In two shakes of a dead lamb's tail, I sold him a very expensive tan tweed suburban coat. I noticed he never even looked at the price tag nor the sales receipt when I wrote it up for him. But, when I folded up the suburban coat and put it in a box for him, he said, "How about giving me the wooden hanger, too."

"Sorry, we weren't allowed to give them out."

"Oh, come on," he snapped. "I didn't complain about the price. So don't you be so cheap." Then, spying Roy getting into the elevator, he shouted, "Hey, Roy, tell this new guy, don't be so cheap. He doesn't want to give me no hanger."

"Well, since it's you, Ok," said Roy as he got in the elevator. "Give him a hanger."

Then the guy looks at his sales receipt and starts complaining to me about the sales tax over which I have no control. "Look at this. It's not enough the government is taking money out of my pocket every time I turn around. Now they got you guys collecting more of my money whenever I buy something. And you don't want to give me no hanger!"

"Ok," I said." You got your hanger."

But, the moment I put the hanger in the box, Miss Rosenstein came by and saw me do it. After the customer left, she complained to me, as I knew she would.

"Those wooden hangers are very expensive. We can't afford to give them away," she said, in a very unpleasant tone.

I said, "Roy told me to."

"Oh, Roy knows better than to give hangers away," she said.

Of course, Roy was off the floor at that point, and she said, "Would you like to have to pay for that hanger?"

"I wouldn't."

"Don't let it happen again," she said, looking very annoyed.

Later, I told Roy what she said.

"Well, let's face it, " said Roy. "Those hangers are expensive. Once in awhile, I might give one out. But don't you do it. Unless I tell you to."

"But, Miss Rosenstein said..."

"Just forget it," answered Roy. ""What happened?" asked Sol who just came by with Bob.

"Oh, Miss Rosenstein caught our boy here giving away a wooden hanger which is something no one is supposed to do," said Roy.

"Yeah," said Bob. "She really gets angry if she sees you giving them hangers away because they are very expensive."

"Well, maybe Estelle Rosenstein needs a psychologist to teach her _hanger management_ ," said Sol.

Bob and Roy laughed and even though I didn't get it, I laughed too.

Later, when I came home, Connie was standing at the ironing board in the kitchen, ironing while she watched the television set which she has now moved from on top of the fridge to the counter next to the range. She has the rabbit ears on top.

"Hey, listen up. Just this afternoon, I saw _My Son John_ at the Rex," she said. "Don't miss it. It's one of the best movies you'll ever see. Helen Hayes and Dean Jigger think their son John is a commie."

I didn't say so, but it sure didn't sound very interesting to me. Now, don't get me wrong, I hate the commies as much as Connie or anybody, but I don't want to see no motion picture about them.

Connie yakked to me about the movie, while staring at the TV set, and it was hard to get away from her when she is talking politics. I felt like telling her to freeze her lips and give her tongue a sled ride, like they say, but I know better, of course, and, instead of being a wise guy, I just kept saying, "Unh hunh." I couldn't wait to get up to my room and study Tuesday's lesson.

Tonight's lesson was a test of spelling words, which Mr. Sherwin Cody says is not a study lesson. Then I found the pages of the book opened in a tricky way, which Mr. Cody, says he patented. Next comes a letter from Mr. Cody thanking me for buying his course and explaining the course a bit further. This, in turn is followed by a test on pronunciation followed by the answers given by the patented method. This new method doesn't explain mistakes at this point in time. That comes in lesson 2, says Mr. Sherwin Cody.

_Wednesday_ : Although I used to think that we only had the upper crust of customers at Joseph's, I am beginning to change my mind. For example, I waited on two plump middle-aged ladies who were out on the town. They kept saying, "We're two wild gals out on the town." They kept snickering and nudging each other.

"Raising the Dickens," giggled one. "We're two gals painting the town red. Left the misters at home, we did."

Finally, one turned to me and said, "Let me see some socks. I'll give the old boy some socks." That caused the other woman to scream with laughter.

"You should give the old boy a sock," she gasped. "Sock him good."

"My husband," the first one explained to me confidentially. "She means my husband. I want some size nine socks for my husband."

I realized that the two of them smelled like booze. Both of them held on to each other and laughed until they literally rolled on the floor. "Let's go get soused," said the one with the red dress. "The other one who wore a blue dress laughed and sputtered, "You mean snookered."

"Smashed."

"Crocked."

"Plastered, loaded, pie-eyed, juiced, tipsy, tight, cock-eyed, soaked. plastered."

"You said plastered twice."

"Oh. Besotted, inebriated, blotto..."

"Sloppy drunk. Let's go get sloppy drunk."

"You got it, Toots," said the other, weaving back and forth.

Courteously, I wrote up their purchase and thanked them, but I was glad to see them leave the store because their behavior was extremely silly and embarrassing. They could hardly walk up the street as they laughed and poked one another like two teenage boys in high school. Such behavior is totally uncalled for and has no place in a dignified establishment like Joseph's, let alone on the public street. Their conduct is simply ghastly. And to think that we let people like that actually vote on who is to run the country and on what the laws are. I bet they wouldn't let them get away with acting like that in The Soviet Union.

That's why I told Bob, "You know, I would like a career where I don't have to deal with the public."

"Like what?"

"Oh, I dunno. How about coal mining? It pays well. And you got your labor leaders like John L. Lewis speaking up for your rights. The retail business should have a union."

"How do you know all that? About coal miners, I mean."

"Connie, my landlady, told me. She knows all about stuff like that," I said.

Then, two gorgeous teenage girls came in to wait for Steve the stock-boy to finish work. Both were absolutely stunning to look at, but they were also obviously so dumb, it would take them an hour to cook minute rice, like they say.

Finally, after I yelled down the basement stairs twice, Steve the stock-boy came up from the basement and called out to the two girls, right in front of everybody, "Well, pucker up and slip me some lip." The two girls giggled and each gave him a smooch. I can't believe it, I thought, he is only a stock-boy. Anyway, this again proves my point about how low-class most people are. And it goes double for females, whether they be middle-aged housewives or young dimwits.

That's why I never read the women's comic strips. All of them like Boots and her Buddies, Ella Cinders, Brenda Starr, and Dixie Dugan are all the same. Oh, I know you can make a case for Wonder Woman who fights crime and corruption with her golden lasso. But even she has to put up with Etta Kett. And maybe you can cite Superwoman and Mary Marvel, maybe. But none of them match up with the males. That's why I never read the daily newspaper comic strips about their exploits and I have never bought nor traded for a female heroine comic book.

As you can see, sometimes, I am very philosophical. I mean that's the way I am. Like I always say, I could be a commentator on the radio or the TV if I got the chance. On my way home, I tried to think some more about it but thinking made me very tired.

Connie started right in as soon as I closed the front door. "See what McCarthy says? That pinko government radio program is sabotaging our Foreign Policy Program!"

Like I told you, Connie absolutely nuts about politics. So, Trying to be polite as usual and agreeing with her, I started to say something about Edgar Bergen.

"Edgar Bergen? What are you talking about?" she said, her mouth wide open.

"You know. You said Charlie McCarthy. And I said Edgar Bergen," said I.

"Oh, for Cripe's sake," she snapped. "I'm talking about Joe McCarthy, the senator. Joseph McCarthy!" She stood there just staring at me.

"Cheese and crackers," I heard her saying as I went upstairs. "He thinks I was talking about Charlie McCarthy."

Upstairs I worked on the Wednesday lesson, which is a test on punctuation on which I found that I did not do a very good job when I checked the answers. At first I said to myself, it was because I was annoyed at Connie but then I decided to admit the fault was mine even if it wasn't.

_Thursday_ : Today, we open at noon and work until nine pm. As soon as we opened our doors today, there was a brief flurry of business. I sold several jackets and ten of the new v-necked Acrylic sweaters, which come in ten pastel shades.

Later, it was so busy, I decided to come back early from supper and I was rewarded by a very big sale, probably the biggest I ever had. Afterwards, for the rest of the evening, it got so quiet; I could literally hear my hair grow.

During this lull in business, Roy took the opportunity to give me some more tips about how to handle customers when we didn't have their exact size in stock.

"OK, then. Suppose you don't have the dress shirt in their size, so you don't lose the sale, you can measure them and then point out that the brand you have in stock runs large if you need a smaller size. In other words if you need a fifteen and you don't have it, the customer might be able to wear a 14 1/2.

"See, if you need a larger size, like you need a 16 and you don't have it, you can say that that particular brand in stock runs small so the customer might find a 16 1/2 to fit OK. It really isn't dishonest because there isn't a lot of difference and what there is the customer probably won't notice. Now you should only use this trick if you have tried to switch the customer to another product to no avail. And they can always exchange it if it isn't comfortable." He pulled out two shirts to prove his point.

"The trick works with almost all products. Shoes for example. Size 10 D and 10 1/2 C are almost the same size and feel about the same on the foot. So, if you don't have one in stock, have the customer try on the other and tell him that the style runs big or small. Or don't mention the size. Just measure the customer and don't discuss the size, just whether it feels comfortable. Always use the phrase they run large or they run small. And it's true. Sizes in clothing and shoes are not as precise as customers think, said Roy. And, remember, _if worst comes to worst_ , don't lose the sale. Turn them over to me."

"You mean _if worse comes to worst_ ," I said.

"That's what I said," snapped Roy, walking away. " _When worst comes to worse_."

At that point in time, my customer who has become a friend came in and I went to wait on him. "Joe," I said, "How are you? Nice to see you."

"Nice to see you," he said, "I'm want to look at your ties."

We chatted about the weather and I pulled out some ties for him, when he said, "Tell me, have you ever thought about getting yourself some life insurance?"

"No," I said.

Well, to my surprise, Joe began explaining the need for a young man like me to achieve financial security for me and my loved ones through investment in some solid insurance policies. Before you know it, he was explaining the difference between term and full life policies and which would be the best investment for me. I had very little idea of what he was talking about except that I couldn't afford it. Which is what I said to him many times. Then, Roy shouted , "Front!" because there were customers standing around waiting for someone to assist them.

"I better go," said I.

"Well, sure," said Joe. "But you take this folder with you and think about what I have said to you. You are a fine young man with a promising future ahead of you and I want you to achieve the financial security you deserve. I wish someone had told me about the value of insurance when I was your age. I'll see you later."

I went off to assist some customers and Joe left the store.

Then, at six o'clock, Jody, the part-time cashier came in. While we weren't busy, I started to ask her about herself."

"So, Jody, how long have you known me?"

"Two months. Almost," she said.

"Well, in those two months, do you think I have become a better salesman? Now, before you answer, remember that I am a natural born salesman."

"I was just going to say that," said Jody. "You took the words right out of my mouth."

"Really? Well, do you know that when I was only nine years old, I sold greeting cards door-to-door," I said.

"That's unbelievable," she said.

"And, also, I was the youngest part-time male soda jerk at Doug's Drugs, the chain drug store when I was in high school."

"Yes, I remember. You already told me that."

"I know that wasn't a sales job, but it is something that I am very proud of. I mention it on every job application."

Jody started to tell me something, but the ringing of the phone interrupted her.

After work, when I got home, Connie asked me about Mother.

"How is she feeling?" asked Connie.

"OK. I guess, except for her very close veins."

"You mean _varicose veins_ ," said Connie.

"Yeah. Whatever. I think she went to get them taken out or something."

Upstairs in my room, the Thursday English lesson was about grammatical correctness and again I was surprised to see that I got a very low score. I got good grades in high school and I thought my grammar was OK.

For awhile I thought it may be that I was tired after working a busy day, but then again, I thought to myself that I would take responsibility. Maybe there was a mistake in the answers. Maybe I should have looked ahead so that I wouldn't make so many errors if I knew what was coming and what the correct answers were.

_Friday_ : Wow, I have been given new responsibilities. Roy called me over and told me that I am now in charge of the shirt department, which means each day I have to restock it. I am very proud of my promotion, and I will give it my best. My new title is Coordinator of Dress shirts. At least, that's what it says on the memo Roy posted on the cash register. I don't get any more money for doing it. It's just the honor of the thing.

This duty means that I must arrange and organize unopened boxes according to size from 14-2 through 18-5. The first number is the collar size measured in inches. The second number is the sleeve length measured from the center of the back and continuing down the arm to the wrist. As Roy pointed out, these numbers can be fudged a great deal so that you always can come close to the needed size, so you don't lose the sale.

Also, I must keep the styles of white shirts separate, that is, keep the fused collar and spread collar shirts separate from the button-down and pin-collar shirts. And, from the white-on-white shirts. And, from the formal dress shirts. Too, I have to keep the stock of colored and patterned shirts in order. It is quite a responsibility.

It took me all morning to get everything in shape, including dusting the boxes until they were as clean as a whistle. I even came back early from lunch to work on it.

This afternoon, I answered the phone, and, as is our custom, said, "Haberdashery." The voice at the other end said, in a heavy accent. "Hello, Meester Haberdashery." Later, I told this to Bob, and he literally laughed his head off. Now, he calls me, "Meester Haberdashery."

In came a woman who said to me as soon as she got inside the door, "I want a crocodile belt size 44."

"OK," I said, as I walked her over to where we keep the belts. "Here is a beautiful genuine alligator belt."

"No," she said. "Don't you understand English? I want a _crocodile_ belt. Not an alligator belt. Besides, that isn't alligator but Caiman."

"These are all labeled genuine alligator," I said , going through all the size 44 belts.

"Well, they are probably Caiman," said the woman.

"Caiman?" I asked. "What's a Caiman?"

"Don't they teach you anything about selling expensive stuff?" said the woman. "A Caiman is a small species of crocodile. They usually use them for belts because they are less expensive. Then they falsely label them alligator because that brings a higher price. See these scales? The space between the scales is what wears out. Caiman leather wears out more quickly than real alligator or real crocodile leather which do not have these big spaces."

"Roy," I called because all this was way beyond what I knew.

In about 30 seconds it turned out that Roy didn't know anything either.

"What I am looking for," the woman said, "is a belt made from a, say, 3- year-old fresh water croc which comes from New Zealand. They are the largest and are usually made into a handbag like the one I have here. Note how it does not have a space between the scales. So, it is the same thickness all over and wears evenly."

We looked closely at her handbag.

"The belts you have here are marked alligator but they are probably Caiman. See the spaces between the scales? That's where they wear out. No, I'm afraid these won't do at all. I'll keep looking."

Roy just stood there speechless.

I said without thinking. "But you said you wanted crocodile and these are Caiman crocodile."

The woman gave me a look of exasperation and walked out.

"Never mind," said Roy to me. "Let's face it, you can't please everybody.

Anyways, after work, I went to see _Viva Zapata_ starring Marlon Brando, the movie actor. Jean Peters plays Brando's wife and Anthony Quinn plays Brando's brother. The movie was about how Brando and other peasants overthrow the government of a mean dictator who does evil things like torturing people, taking their land, and raising the sales tax. But when they get rid of the dictator and put their leader in, it isn't any better.

. Everybody spoke rapidly with an accent. That made for some confusion at times. For example, I think Viva was Zapata's first name but I am not sure. According to what I understand, the events in the movie took place in Latin America and I don't speak Latin.

Also, I admit that it was hard for me to concentrate on the movie because I kept thinking of what I could do to make my shirt department nicer.

When I got home, Connie was waiting with my mail. There was two or three pieces of junk mail.

"Oh, hey. You got this magazine," she said. "I was reading it and I almost forgot to give it to you."

It looks as if I have been given a gift subscription to _Salesman's Big Break_. This is an excellent magazine, but I don't know who gave it to me. Someone must know exactly what I am interested in – which, of course, is in raking in the big bucks through my abilities as a master salesman.

Connie said, "This magazine's got ads and stories of people who are making fortunes selling all kinds of things such as miniature fire extinguishers and patented spot removers. That's why we got it so good in this country. Anybody can make money."

"In the Soviet Union, they ain't got nothing to sell." I agreed.

"It makes me think that I should start selling stuff," said Connie.

Of course, I knew Connie couldn't be a salesman because she is a woman, but I bit my tongue.

Well. Today is the last day of the first week of Mr. Sherwin Cody's English lessons. However, all I did was to take tests, which I scored much lower than I expected. I began to wonder if this course was going to be any good. Maybe Mr. Sherwin Cody expected too much of his students in the tests he gave them. Or the tests themselves did not test what they claimed to. I remember one of my teachers in high school saying that was often the case and that she didn't like the standardized tests that we were given.

_Saturday_ : After saying, "Good morning," when I brought my customer up to the register, Jody continued with, "Congratulations," pointing to the memo taped to the cash register that said I was now in charge of the shirts.

"Thanks. It's a big responsibility," I said, handing the package and receipt to my customer.

"Do you know what today is?" asked Jody.

I didn't, so I answered simply as is I usually do, "Unh unh."

"I was just going to say it is Valentine's Day, so, you should have sent me a valentine." Jody said, smiling.

Well, I didn't know what to say. In addition, I felt like I was blushing.

Then, something unfortunate happened. A customer walking by asked me the price of the new Italian sport shirts, and I told her, "Ten bucks." Miss Rosenstein had come up quietly, and I saw her shake her head.

Then, while I was showing the customer some of the new Italian sports shirts, she had asked about, Miss Rosenstein said, right in front of me, "Please excuse him. He doesn't understand how to speak with respect to customers like you." Her voice sounds exactly like Mrs. Nussbaum on _Allen's Alley_.

Then, The Dragon Lady, Miss Rosenstein looked at me with a withering glance. "This is a high class store, and you must say dollars. No cow lass, er, low class slang around here, please."

So, I just said, "OK," although my face was red. The customer just smiled and said nothing.

Miss Rosenstein just kept staring at me until I finished with the customer. Then, she went to speak to Roy.

Afterwards, my friend Ed, a fellow I know from The Refrigeration Institute and the one who works at Only Pants, stopped by. They had sent him out of the Only Pants store on some kind of errand. He said he stopped in Joseph's just to say hello.

" Do they let you say the word bucks to customers?" I asked.

"They let you say anything you want as long as you sell the pants."

For a moment, I thought about the differences in Joseph's and Only Pants, a store where they sell only pants. That's the store where they will alter them, which means to cuff them or make plain bottoms, while you wait. They will even peg them so they measure fourteen inches at the cuff or do anything you want – while you wait. The same alterations at Joseph's require seven to ten days wait, and we don't do pegged pants at all. Like Roy says, our customers wouldn't think of asking for pegged pants.

"Anyhow, I just wanted to tell you I'll be over to see you this weekend," Ed said and left. Afterwards, it occurred to me that the weekend was almost over. Only Sunday was left, and then we go back to work again.

Before I left tonight, I had to listen to a long speech by Roy. I saw both Jody and Jonathan waiting while Roy told me how fortunate I am to be working at Joseph's, and how I should watch how I talk to customers and everything. Apparently Jody couldn't wait and she left. Jonathan seemed to be annoyed at waiting so long for Roy to talk to me and then lock up. But, then, he and Roy both said goodnight and left. As I walked to Pop's Grille, I thought of a terrific response I should have made to Miss Rosenstein.

Then, when I went home, Connie burned my ear off with a long recounting of the plot of _Marty_ , a television play she had seen starring Rod Steiger or somebody. She said that Marty was a symbol of all the good Americans fighting the Commies, and, although I didn't understand why she said that, I just said, "Unh hunh." Sometimes, I think she has tongue enough for two sets of teeth, like they say.

Then, she started explaining how the communist people were suffering because they did not have any consumer goods. "Do you know that stores like Joseph's do not exist in Russia except for the privileged people in government? Even food is in short supply. You know what they say, Under communism, the less people have to eat, the more they have to swallow."

That was pretty clever, I thought. And I kept repeating it to myself after I went up stairs to my room.

_Sunday_ : This morning, I started off by going to the diner after stopping to buy the Sunday paper. After I ordered, I turned to the comics and read _The Phantom_ and _Dick Tracy_ and _Blondie_ in that order.

Of course, I read _Little Orphan Annie_ , which I have done as long as I remember. My grandmother used to read it to me. I know all about 11 year old Annie, who always wears the same red dress and for some reason, has blank eyeballs. She is always saying, "Leaping Lizards." What do I learn from her? Most of all, to be always optimistic.

I admire Daddy Warbucks who, like I say, looks exactly like President "Ike" Eisenhower. Daddy Warbucks is very rich, always wears a tux and a diamond pin and is bald. His assistants are Punjab, a tall Indian from India and the Asp, who reminds me of Peter Lorre, the movie actor. The _Little Orphan Annie_ strip taught me the value of capitalism, which is the greatest economic system on earth. Making money and improving one's standard of living is a great goal for society. On the other hand, communism, which is a rival economic system, is wrong because it destroys individualism and produces a tragically low standard of living. Connie said that.

Back when I was a little kid, during World War 2, Annie headed a bunch of elementary school age kids called the Junior Commandos who conducted scrap drives for the war effort. I was a member. So, this comic strip has affected my life in many ways.

While I was thinking about the _Little Orphan Annie_ strip, the waitress brought my breakfast. I ate the toast I had ordered and spread the paper over the counter. As I read the classified ads, I ate bacon and eggs and home fries and had more toast and drank another cup of coffee. In the classified section, there were no jobs that appealed to me.

Since I had nothing to do, I went for a walk in the downtown shopping center, which is about four blocks long and three blocks wide. Like everybody is always saying, we are a typical American city and the proof to the world is that our shopping center is an excellent example of capitalism at work.

South on Market Street is The Big Department Store, and our chief rival, Rudolph's. Here, too, are the Bijou Movie Theater and The Rialto Movie Theater. Along this street are many small stores such as The Chain Drug Store, Big Foot's Shoe Store, the Only Pants Shop, and, as the street wends down under the railroad bridge, The Army-Navy Store, The Kaplan Kredit Kompany, and The Used Book Store. There are several parking lots here and there.

I should mention that there is a striking difference between the way the window trimmers do the Army-Navy Store display window and the way it is done at Joseph's. At the Army-Navy store they try to get as many things in the window as possible and as close to the glass window as they can. They put all the shirts are in one area and the pants in another and most of the small camping items like stoves and pans, and flashlights and lanterns are down low and opened up so they can be examined before you even go in the store. Little cards explaining what the item is and what the price is are also displayed for each and every item so you can select what you want from the window.

A classy fine clothing store like Joseph's uses a different approach. Our store uses mannequins rather than pinning items on a flat board. These mannequins are dressed in suits and carefully selected shirts, ties, shoes, and other accessories.

Besides Market Street, the other main shopping street is Second Street, where Joseph's is located, as well as some fine fashionable women's clothing stores, several shoe stores, Pop's Grille, Doug's Drugs, and Penny's Nickel-and Dime.

Finally, I decided to go to the Rex Movie Theater, which is not in the shopping center but is a neighborhood theater where I saw a Jungle Jim movie called _Savage Mutiny_ where Jungle Jim has to get all the natives off an African island so the US and the British can conduct an atomic bomb test. The commies try to stop them and Jungle Jim shows them who is boss. This movie illustrates my motto when it comes to politics: Communists! Do not mess with the U.S. of A. and capitalism!

Later, Connie called me downstairs to answer the phone. "I wish you would tell your mother not to call this late," said Connie.

"Hello, Mom, " I said.

"Oh, son, I wanted to call you because we had such a wonderful church service tonight. The choir sang most of the service. And Preacher gave a short message he called _Church Politics Is the Devil's Workshop_ about how church politics is ruining not only our church but also the church as a whole. He said that the Lord revealed to him that the preacher alone should determine what goes on in the church and not the church board. The way he said it makes a lot of sense. Having the preacher make all decisions would do away with all the problems we have with church politics."

Afterwards, I told Connie and she said. "All them preachers are alike. They just want to be little thin plot dictators making people do whatever they say."

"Don't you mean _tin pot_?"

"No. I mean what I say. Thin plot means you can see right though them. If I was you, I would tell my mother to beware. Ideally when any change is made, church members are free to accept it or not. What her preacher says is that you can accept it or else."

"So, what can they do about it?"

"Treat that preacher like any other dictator. Make him see the light by making him feel the heat. Both secular politics and church politics are a compromise between honesty and deceit . And your mother needs to take a stand against that sort of thing in the church just as we concerned citizens do with the government."

"Ok," said I.

"Right," said Connie, coming out with one of her quotations: "Like the fellow says, _To guarantee that your silence is golden, you must also be sure that there is always a squeaking wheel that gets the grease_."

Chapter 3 - Family

March 1953

_Monday_ : Sometimes, things around here get as weird as a funeral held in a funhouse. Like this morning, after we opened at 9:30, Bob, Roy, and I stood waiting for customers at the front of the store. I was thinking about my future as usual and wondering what it would be like to be married and have a family like Bob. Of course, I have to find a girl friend first. I started humming the new Joni James' song, _Why Don't You Believe Me?_ under my breath. Steve the stock-boy came in late at 10:00. He was wearing dungarees, a black-leather motorcycle jacket with the collar turned up, and his pompadour was slicked back in a DA as usual.

Roy said, "You should have been here at 9:30."

"Why? What happened?" asked Steve the stock-boy.

"We open at 9:30. Remember?"

"Well, you know what they say. Better late than never."

Roy just rolled his eyes up and shook his head from side to side. "All right, just bring up the new shipment of Italian sport shirts and from now on get here on time!"

Steve the stock-boy carried boxes, going up and down the stairs most of the morning, while we unpacked the cartons and put the shirts on the shelves. No customers came in.

Bob asked me, "Do you have a, you know, sore back or something?"

"No," I answered.

"Well, I smell _Vicks_ ," he said.

"So do I. In fact, the smell is so strong that it is making my eyes water."

Finally, Bob figured it out "Hey. It's you. Steve the stock-boy. You're the one that smells like _Vicks_."

"Yeah," Steve the stock-boy said. "I ran out of pomade this morning, so I decided to slick my DA down with _Vicks_. So what?"

"Don't you know what you smell like?"

"No, I got a cold. And my fiancée didn't complain."

"Your fiancée? When are you getting married?"

Bob and I cracked up. Later, when we told Roy, he cracked up, too.

During a lull in business, my customer Joe stopped by and asked me, "Have you given any more thought about getting a life insurance policy on yourself?"

"No," I said. "I don't think I want to do that at this point in time. Maybe not until I get married, but that's a long time off."

"Sure. I understand but just remember that you can get very low rates at your present age which won't be the case as the years go by."

Luckily, Roy called for me to wait on some customers so I was able to get away. "Just think about it. See you later," said Joe.

I just nodded. Things still remained weird. We started getting very busy. One of my personal customers brought in her twin teenage sons to be outfitted for spring and summer. Usually this means I have a sure sale of two of everything, but, today, we had nothing in their size. Absolutely nothing. They finally walked out without buying anything. Luckily, Roy didn't see it happen.

And, it got weirder. Later on, we were so busy that I was waiting on three customers at a time, but I lost all three sales because we were out of stock in their sizes, even in underwear and socks. I avoided Miss Rosenstein when she came down in the late afternoon to check the figures, but she seemed pleased and left early. As it turned out when I added up my sales, to my astonishment, I found that I had an exceptionally good day. I couldn't figure out how I did so well.

When it was time to go, Jonathan waited for Roy who was with one of his personal customers. He, Bob, and I were listening to Sol who was telling us about Miss Rosenstein and how she came to own Joseph's, the store her father started when she was just a little girl.

"Actually, it began as a store that sold work clothes," said Sol, "and, it was owned by Max Rosenstein and his partner, Joseph Lipschitz. They called it Joseph's because it sounded goyish."

Sol has been here for years, so he should know.

"Max Rosenstein edged his partner out and then Max kicked the bucket and left it to Miss Rosenstein," said Sol. "She changed the store into a high fashion store."

"And, here we are," said Bob.

"Well, there's a little more," said Sol, waving his cigar. "When Max died, the business was in receivership, but Miss Rosenstein had a closed door conference with the bankruptcy judge. She was very young then and they say she was a real knockout."

"Yeah?" said Jonathan.

"I don't know what went on, but, well, the story is that they worked out a little something."

"No kidding," said Jonathan.

"I can't believe that Miss Rosenstein..." said Bob

"She did," said Sol. "The judge literally gave her the place. Well, boys, time to go. Don't repeat what I told you and don't ever say you heard it from me."

Jonathan said to Sol, "Sol, remember, if you don't have something nice to say about somebody, just come tell me."

What a weird day.

Later, when I went home, Connie was on the phone and just waved to me as I went up to my room. There, I read the Winchell column in the paper. He listed who not to invite to the same party. Winchell said not to ask Humphrey Bogart, the actor and Porfirio Rubirosa, the playboy because they apparently don't get along. I will try to remember that in case it ever comes up and it may when I become rich and famous.

Then, I devoted 15 minutes to my English course. Nothing unusual, just some reading on how to carry on a conversation, and then a kind of old fashioned story about the life of the author of the course. Since there was no work to be done, I turned to other stuff.

_Tuesday_ : It was literally raining cats and dogs this morning, and my new umbrella blew inside out while I was waiting for the Number 2 bus. I waited and waited, and, finally, I walked, so I wouldn't be late for work, and, as a result, I was soaked when I got to the store. I started to sniffle, and I was afraid I had caught a cold.

When Sol came in, he waved his unlit cigar at us and said. "Nice weather for ducks." We all laughed to be polite to Sol but we had all heard Sol say that line a thousand times. Anyway, it continued to rain two ways to Sunday all morning, and the sun didn't come out till after lunch. Bob had to leave early and Roy was busy. I was alone.

Then, after the sun came out, Ed, the fellow that I went to The Refrigeration Institute with, came in. He's the one who works at Only Pants, and he is still enrolled in The Refrigeration Institute, but only attends part time.

"Hey, Man, how you doing?" he said. "I want a pair of shoes like the ones in the window."

I followed him outside, and he pointed them out. They were the new Top Brand two-tone wing tips – which I like a lot.

"Wow, those are expensive!" said I.

"Think I can't afford them?" Ed snarled.

"Oh, no, " I protested. "I'm just saying that they are fine shoes."

I measured his feet and got the shoes in his size. He tried them on and walked up and down, looking in the shoe department mirror.

"I dunno," he said, The "the left shoe is pinching my instep."

"Try pulling on the tongue," I said.

"Ith thill pincheth," he said.

"No, not your tongue. The tongue of the shoe."

"Oh, yeah. That's better."

What a maroon, as Bugs Bunny would say. I just looked at him, wondering if he would ever be able to graduate from a prestigious academic institution like The Refrigeration Institute.

Ed asked., "Where you living? Same place?"

"Yes," said I, sniffling more than just a little.

"I'll come over to see you Sunday. Lunch time. You got a cold?"

"Yeah, I do.. Noon Sunday is fine," said I. "How do they feel?"

"Ok," he said, "It's stopped raining, so I'll wear them." He gave me the cash, and I put his old shoes in a bag and rang up the sale.

Off he walked. Standing outside, Ed looked at the shoes in the window and then those on his feet, and he came back in.

"These ain't the same shoes," he said.

"Yes, they are," I explained.

"No, c'mere. Look in the window," he said.

Since it was sunny out, I went outside and looked in the window, and they were the same shoes, of course. But Ed didn't believe me. I had to go inside the window and get them out, so that he could see that they were identical.

"Color looks different, " he said.

"Sometimes light makes things in the window look different," I said brightly.

"But, they're not in the window now," he said. "Just hope my girlfriend likes them."

Oh boy, I kept thinking, he should have asked her first. I would have if I had a girlfriend. It took me half an hour to restore the look of the window. I have a knack for these things. There is no doubt that I could make a good living as a window trimmer.

Like I said, Bob had gone for the day, and Roy came back to the floor right at closing time. Before I finally left, I had to leave an IOU in the cash register for enough money to last me until Friday.

After work, literally feeling like something the cat drug in, I ate my usual supper at Pop's Grille quickly and then came directly home. Connie must have been out, or she didn't hear me come in. I was pleased because I didn't feel like listening to her. My throat felt sore, and I ached all over.

Tuesday's English lesson was on spelling, and it was kind of boring with a lot of information about the connection between spelling and pronunciation. I almost nodded off several times while trying to get through the lesson.

_Wednesday_ : "In the morning, I literally felt like a bar of soap after a Saturday night bath, but I went in to work anyway. Roy looked at me curiously as I brought my first sale up the cash register. At which point, I sneezed violently.

"Gesundheit," said Roy. "Let's face it, you look like you have a bit of a cold."

"I feel like I got the crud," I groaned, blowing my nose. "My wheels are flat and my axle's dragging."

I rang up the sale, handed the package to the customer, and started sneezing again and again.

Later, although I was feeling miserable and literally sneezing my head off, I was still able to react quickly and make a comical comment when a female customer asked me if I was taking anything for my cold.

"Just a handkerchief," I answered and cracked myself up.

"What did you say?" she asked, and I repeated myself.

"What did he say?" asked her friend, and I said it again.

The two girls didn't laugh, so, obviously, they have no sense of humor at all.

Later, I repeated my witty remark to Roy, and he cracked a faint smile, but said, "Let's face it, you should've been more careful because next time, the customer might think you were trying to insult them."

An old friend of Bob's came in and the two chatted for a couple of minutes. I was putting some stock away nearby and I overheard what they were saying.

Bob's friend said, "A burglar got into my house at 3 AM while I was on my way home from the club."

"Wow!" said Bob. "Did he get anything?"

"He sure did," said his friend. "He's in the hospital. My wife thought it was me."

After which, in came another customer of mine with her six kids -- each by a different husband of a different nationality. Afterwards, Bob said, "That was like Saturday morning at the United Nations."

Anyway, she selected several shirts, for some of her ex-husbands, apparently, because they were all different sizes. I couldn't help but remember what I heard someone say recently: _The person who is married many years knows more about marriage than a person who has been married many times_.

Meanwhile, the customer's Katzenjammer Kids were running around and fighting. I was quite disgusted by their behavior but I didn't say nothing. However, I realized at that point in time that I simply hate kids and certainly never want to have any. The bachelor's life would suit me fine, I thought, as two of the little rascals upset a shoe display and knocked over a clothing rack.

Meanwhile, my customer paid no attention whatever to what they were doing. Roy tried to talk to them and distract them but the little brats kept on raising a ruckus.

Finally, I got the lady to select a total of a half-dozen shirts of assorted sizes and colors and took them to the cash register, rang up the sale and wrapped them up as quickly as I could. After she left, I told Bob, "I don't never want to have no kids."

But Bob let it go in one ear and out the other. Even though I had a sudden fit of sneezing, he refused to be distracted. He wanted to talk about what he had read at the library on his lunch hour.

"Listen to this," he said, his eyes glowing. "You park in a driveway, but you drive on a parkway. Get it? Ain't that weird?"

"Unh hunh," I answered.

"And, look," he continued. "Bathroom? You don't have to take a bath in it."

"Unh hunh," I answered. I didn't feel like talking about anything to anybody.

"Like the fellow said, ' _Words are the fingers that mold men's minds_.' Ain't that, you know, terrific? You usually are interested in vocabulary words. What's the matter?"

I sneezed in reply. "I don't feel good," I said. "I am literally under the weather."

Because of my cold, I was feeling so low, I could have crawled under a rug without leaving a bump. I didn't even eat supper although I know the medical experts tell us that you are supposed to feed a cold and starve a fever I just couldn't wait to hit the sack. As soon as Connie saw me, she said, "Mother of Earl! You look sick as a dog." She let me go up to my room without bending my ear off. I just skipped my English lesson and took some cold medicine and went to sleep.

_Thursday_ : Luckily, I don't have to go in until noon today so I was able to sleep late. And I felt better this morning although still not up to snuff. Since I hadn't eaten supper the night before, I was hungry enough to eat a horse and chase its rider. However, since I slept late, I couldn't eat a real breakfast because the diner stops serving it at 10:30. I wound up eating a couple of candy bars I bought at Doug's Drugs on my way to work.

Oh, yes, my birthday is today. Since I have to work late tonight, I am not going to celebrate or anything. That kind of thing is not required now that I have reached adulthood.

Business was slow, and Bob was discussing the problems of being married by telling me about one of his old army buddies who was up before the alderman after a fight with his woman.

"This guy says that the alderman asked his old lady why did she chase her man with a hatchet and she says it was because she couldn't find the ax."

Well, I certainly didn't believe that she actually said that. It sounds like a joke in _Reader's Digest_.

Bob said to me, "You probably don't believe that because, you know, it sounds like a joke in _Reader's Digest_."

"Oh, no," I said. "I believe you."

Bob said, "You wanna laugh? Let me give the whole gorilla about my friend's family."

"You mean _megilla_. The whole story. That's a Jewish word." A a customer came in, so I never got to hear what happened.

In waiting on the customer that just came in, I had a terrible time finding a size 17 ½ white pin-collar shirt. I have been told a million times that I should never lose a sale if a customer wants a white shirt, so I finally coaxed the customer into buying a button-down collar white shirt with the promise that she could exchange it if her man didn't like it.

At 4:00 PM, I went out to supper, and on the way saw some great television sets in the Kaplan Kredit Kompany window. I am getting quite interested in purchasing one on tick, and I have decided that I would like to be able to own the giant Motorola 21 inch set with a 265 square-inch screen. Anyway, I kept thinking how wonderful it was that all the programs on television were free and would always be free to their viewers. I'll probably buy a television set when my AM radio is paid off which will be in December.

To celebrate my birthday, I went to supper by myself at the China Rose Restaurant. I had _Egg Foo Young_ , but, because of my cold, I couldn't taste it. Finally, the waiter brought my fortune cookie, which contained a thoughtful message, _The more one knows, the less one believes_. I felt that fit me exactly since I am a very shrewd observer of the world, and I kept looking at the little slip of paper all the way back top work.

Then, Bob came by and asked me, "Why do you have that silly grin on your face?"

"Nothing," I answered. "Here. Take a gander at my fortune cookie fortune. Look!"" But, I couldn't find it so I had to ad lib. "It said, _The more you believe, the less you know_."

"What?" Bob said, "That doesn't make any sense."

"Well," I said. "It was something like that." I went to wait on a customer.

Then, when Bob was out for supper, some woman I never saw before came in and asked for him. "He's out to supper." I said.

"Well, give him this parking ticket." she said. "He told me if I ever got a ticket to bring it in the store and Joseph's would take care of it."

"You'll have to give it to him personally, " I said. "I don't know anything about it." And I didn't. I had seen Roy take somebody's parking ticket once or maybe twice but I had no idea why he did it or what he did with the ticket. So, I told her, "You'll have to wait until he comes back."

"Oh no. I can't do that. I can't hang around here waiting for him. I got things to do. Bob said just give the ticket to anyone at Joseph's and you people would take care of it."

"I can't do it. Sorry, but I don't know anything about it. You will have to see him."

"No. No. He said if he wasn't in, to just leave it here and you will take care of it."

"I can't," I said. "I don't know you. Sorry, but I can't take it."

"Bob knows me. Bob will know who I am. He will take care of it. He told me the store has some kind of political connections. So, I'm just going to leave it here on the counter next to the cash register. Just see that he gets it." With that, she put the parking ticket down on the counter and stormed out of the store.

"You leave it there and I am not responsible for it." I called after to her to no avail. She was gone. When Bob came back from supper. I told him word-for-word what happened. "Who was she?" he asked.

"She didn't say," I answered. "She said you would know who she was."

"I have no idea who she might be. What did she look like?" Bob said.

I described her as a thin and short brunette with a loud voice. Bob looked at the ticket and then called his wife and told her what happened and asked if she knew who owned the car listed on the ticket. She had no idea.

Bob was still trying to determine who the woman was when Jody came in the store at 6:00. He asked me several times to describe her and each time said he didn't know anybody meeting that description. Finally, when Roy came back on the floor, we told him and he said, "Boys, don't ever tell anybody that Joseph's will fix a ticket for them. We can't do it."

Bob and I said, "I didn't tell anybody that." I know I was telling the truth but I don't know bout Bob.

I said, "Why not just give to the police and let them handle it. They can look her up in their records and mail it to her."

"Good idea," said Jody. "I was just going to say that."

"No," said Roy, "I don't want to open up that kettle of fish. I'll think about what to do."

Then customers started coming in and we went to wait on them.

Later, Jody said to me. "That was a good idea you had about how to handle the ticket."

"Thanks, Jody, "I said and then I told her what Sol had said earlier this week about Miss Rosenstein and the judge. Jody said, "I was just going to say that I'm not surprised at anything you tell me about that woman. She's got more nerve than an aching tooth."

I said, with what I think was a wise smile "Now, Jody, that's not a nice way to talk about our boss."

When I got home, I went at my _Sherwin Cody 100% Self-Correcting Course in the English Language_ lessons for the required quarter on an hour although I admit I quit after about ten minutes because it was so tedious and boring. I had to read a passage in a pamphlet titled _Brief Fundamentals_ about subjects and verbs. Then I had to punctuate complete sentences. Dull. Dull. Dull.

_Friday_ : Steve the stock-boy's new girlfriend came with him today and stayed for about an hour in the basement until Roy called Steve the stock-boy upstairs and said to him, "Tell her you are busy and that she should come back later. Let's face it, it's not like you are married to her."

"I know if I were that would be monotony."

"What you mean to say is _monogamy_."

"No. I mean monotony. I would be bored with her."

Maybe Steve the stock-boy is smarter than I think. By the way, Roy is not married, either; he doesn't even have a girl friend that I know of. But, he seems to have a very active social life; he goes out a lot to the movies and other events. He and his friend, Jonathan, go everywhere together. Today, for example, Jonathan came in the store, and they went out to lunch. I said to Bob that I thought it was great that Roy has such a great friend like Jonathan, and that I wished I had a close friend like him.

Bob didn't answer. He just looked at me kind of strangely, and then stared off into the middle distance and cracked a weird smile. But, I'm sure he agreed with me.

Then, some heavy-set lady came in the door with a huge dog on a leash.

So, I had to tell her, "I'm sorry, Ma'am but dogs ain't permitted in the store."

"Well,"" she said. "This here is Mimi and she goes everywhere with me."

"I'm sorry," I said. "She is a beautiful pet, but..."

"She is not a pet," the woman snapped. "She is my canine companion. She is a member of my family. Closer to me than my ex-husband ever was. And she is free to go anywhere with me."

By this time, Bob had come over and he tried to smooth things over. "I understand just how you feel," he said, "I, myself, own a dog..."

"REALLY!" she shouted. "YOU OWN A DOG!"

"Well, yes, I do," said Bob. "I really do own a dog."

"Like people used to own slaves," she snarled. "Shame on you for claiming that you own a dog like you own a car or own anything. Animals are your companions, not your possessions! Not your pets! You do not own them!"

"I, I, I... " Bob stammered.

"It's about time that you realized that all canine-Americans, feline-Americans, avian-Americans, reptile-Americans, and bovine-Americans are all our equals here on this earth," she said.

"I, I, I..." I stammered,

"Well," she continued, "We need this like we need a hole in the head. Come on, Mimi, we know when we are not wanted. We will take our money elsewhere. This is the first time and the last time we will ever come in this store!"

And with that and a toss of her head, she and Mimi went out the door. Bob and I stared after her without either of us saying a word.

Since it is payday, and the eagle has flown, as we say, I paid back the money I had borrowed from the till, tore up my IOU and, later, went to see _The Jazz Singer_ with Danny Thomas and Peggy Lee and which I heard Sol talking about to Bob and Roy the other day. Although he kept mentioning how great Al Jolson was in it. I will have to tell him that Jolson wasn't in it. However, I don't know how he could confuse Danny Thomas with Al Jolson because they do not look alike at all. Especially when Sol claims he knew Al Jolson personally.

I could have gone to see _Moulin Rouge_ with Jose Ferrer, but I decided to save that movie for another time when I might have a date to take with me.

When I got home, Connie was watching some program.

"Hello," I said. "Did I get any mail?"

She said, "Oh, fiddlesticks and Tom Jones! Can't you see I'm watching a program and now I missed what they said? You don't have no manners!"

The phone rang and Connie said it was my mother. Usually, like I said, my mother calls me once a week but never on Friday. Something must be wrong.

My mother started off as soon as she heard me say, "Hello."

"You know what? The preacher ran off with the choir director. Nobody knows where they are. Sister Fletcher said maybe they were on a slow boat to communist China."

"My goodness," I said.

"Goodness had nothing to do with it. The preacher has a wife and five kids and the choir director is ten years younger then he is." My mom said this as if I didn't know.

"I am... shocked," I said. "I am simply shocked to find that something like that is going on." Suddenly, I realized I sounded just like the police chief in _Casablanca_.

My mother didn't pause. She talked over me while I was speaking. "I feel awful. Maybe it's really the church's fault. The preacher is under so much constant pressure from the devil and his demons tempting him. The congregation should have prayed harder for him."

My mother went on and on like this for some time. "And you know what message is on the bulletin board this week? It is: _To have a good spouse, be one_."

At that, she paused, and I finally said, "Sorry but I got to go. Everything will turn out OK. Thanks for calling me. 'Bye."

"What happened?" asked Connie? "What's the matter?"

"The preacher ran off with the choir director," I said.

"Oh, that's nothing new, " said Connie. "It happens all the time. It's like the Louie Prima song: _It Takes a Long, Tall, Dark-Skinned Gal to Make a Preacher Lay His Bible Down_. That song says it all. Tell your mother to forget about it."

Later, up in my room, I was skimming through a Superman comic book when it suddenly occurred to me that it would be impossible if Superman and Lois Lane actually got married. Impossible. I don't believe the Man of Steel could even kiss Lois without hurting her. Then, I thought I had better stop ruminating on this kind of nonsense when I should be studying vocabulary words such as the one I just used. I was ecstatic that I was now able to come out with words like ruminating and ecstatic.

Thank heaven, this is the final lesson this week for English. I can't wait for fifteen minutes to end. However, I did like the vocabulary, which among other words explained that commencement means beginning. After that, I quit thinking about anything.

_Saturday_ : Today, when Bob was out to lunch, his wife Doris came in with her friend, Rose, a tall skinny woman with a sharp nose and a large mole on her upper lip. To me, Rose looks like Jig's wife, Maggie, in the funnies. Doris was very upset about something. After they found that Bob was out but would be back in a few minutes, they decided to wait. I overheard Doris telling Rose how they were teaching their son Bob Jr. to speak correctly and use the actual names for things rather than slang terms. "We teach him to refer to his actual body parts," said Doris.

Bob's son and Rose's son began running around the store and horsing around and punching and kicking each other. It wasn't two minutes before Bob's son was bawling, "Mother," I heard him sob, "Jimmy kicked me in the rectum."

After the two women patched things up with the kids, they stood near the jackets talking, and, since, I was alone at the front near the door, I could overhear what they were saying. Doris was crying.

Her friend kept asking, "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, it's not you," Doris sobbed. "It's just that I'm so unhappy."

I couldn't believe my ears. I know Bob was unhappy. He told me that many times. But, I never knew that his wife was unhappy, too.

Apparently, neither did her friend. "You? Unhappy? With that nice house and Bob and your child?"

"Do you really think those things stop me from being unhappy?" said Doris.

"For all intensive purposes," said her friend.

"The correct expression is for all intents and purposes," said Doris. "And, no, they don't."

"Why are you always correcting me," snapped her friend. "You think you're smarter than me?"

Then, a customer came in the door, and they moved away out of earshot.

"I want to exchange this belt for my boyfriend," said the blue haired old lady customer to me.

I looked at it and it was from a manufacturer that we carry but a model which we never stocked."

"Sorry, " I said, "This is not one of our belts. We never carried this model."

"Of course you did," she said. "I bought it here."

"No, we never carried this. Do you have a receipt?"

"No, I do not have a receipt. Look here, the same box, the same brand name. Of course, it is your belt!" She said.

"Yes," I said trying to explain clearly to her why I could not make an exchange. "It is the same manufacturer and the box is the same. But we carry many different models that come in that same box and this isn't one of them. I'm not allowed to exchange something that wasn't purchased here, especially something that we never carried."

"Well, I bought it here and you carried it. And I insist that you exchange it," she said. "Don't you know the customer is always right? Where's Roy? Or let me speak to Estelle Rosenstein."

Uh oh, I thought. Maybe she did buy it here. Maybe she is a customer that I never saw before. Luckily, I saw Roy coming back on the floor and I called him over.

"Hello, Miss Winthrop," he said to the lady with the blue hair. "My. I haven't seen you in a long time. How are you?"

"Well, Roy, I was all right until I came in here. I want to exchange this belt. This young boy here says I didn't buy it here and that you don't carry it and he won't exchange it."

Roy took the belt and glanced at it. "What do you want to do with it?" he asked.

"It's a size 42 and I want to get a size 44 and this boy here refuses to exchange it. I bought it here. I just can't find the receipt."

"Here. Let her pick out another belt."

"We don't carry this model belt," I said.

"Sorry, Miss Winthrop, you will have to select another model," said Roy, pulling out three belts, which were all priced the same.

"All right. Give me this one," said the old lady, after examining them all closely. "That's all I asked for. Thank you, Roy." She just glared at me.

Roy put the belt in a bag and then handed me the belt she had brought in. "Even exchange," he said. "Don't need to write it up."

"Can we show you anything else today, Miss Winthrop? How about some of our new patterned dress shirts?"

"Sorry, no, Roy, but we'll be in to see you soon," she said. "Please tell Estelle I asked about her and tell her we'll see her at the Country Club Anniversary Dinner next week."

"I sure will, Miss Winthrop. Sorry about the misunderstanding."

"Good bye, Roy, Thanks again," said the blue haired lady and she walked out.

"That's the way to handle that," said Roy.

"But we never had that belt in stock," said I.

"No. I agree. We never carried that model 26605 . But she is a close friend of Miss Epstein and a very wealthy woman. She doesn't come in often but when she does, she is a good customer. So, we can exchange it for the sake of good will."

"Ok, Roy," said I.

"Put it back in the case and we'll sell it, " said Roy. "You were trying to do the right thing, but the next time something like that happens, just call me and I'll work something out. Ok?"

"Ok, Roy," said I.

I thought that over for a little bit and then waited on another customer. When Bob came back from lunch I told him that his wife and another woman were in to see him but left. I didn't say anything about the old lady with the blue hair and the belt.

After awhile, I told Jody what Bob's wife, Doris said.

Jody said, "I'm not surprised by anything you tell me about that woman. I was just going to say she's got the personality of an old dishrag."

I thought about that for the rest of the day. and, then, after work, I went to see Jose Ferrer, the movie actor, in _Moulin Rouge_. It was OK, I guess, but I kept wondering about how they concealed what's-his-name's legs to make him look short. Did he kneel or did they have him walk in a hole? Or did they hire a midget as a double? I decided that he was probably kneeling. I am very perceptive about noticing details like that. It's the kind of mind that I have-- capable of deep insights. I probably should give some thought to becoming a philosopher.

Anyhow, it then struck me like a thunderbolt that I ought to seek a career as an artist. Even when I was a little kid, I liked to draw. I remember seeing an ad in a magazine for a correspondence school where famous artists would teach you all you needed at home in your spare time. But then I remembered what they always were saying about starving artists. Since I want to make the big bucks, I will think it over.

After the movie, I tried to buy the new Mickey Spillane novel, but I only had a twenty-dollar bill. The news-dealer was very sarcastic. He said," What's the matter with you? You should have better sense than to ask a newsie to change a twenty."

Well, I thought, you certainly have a hole in your screen door, but I didn't crack wise. I should add that I was also going to buy the latest _Mad_ comic book, but to show him how I felt, I put that back, too. I hope that put him in his place.

I will have to buy the book at another time, and it will be most likely from somebody else. It's too bad that people dealing with the public are often so insolent. As Captain Marvel, I think it was, once said, "Ignore how some people treat you and don't let it affect how you treat others."

_Sunday_ : I didn't go to church this morning. Instead, I bought the paper and read the Sunday funnies as I ate bacon and eggs and toast. I never miss _Blondie_ , which is an excellent example of what is the most important part of America -- the family. Dagwood Bumstead is foolish, naive man who always causes trouble. He gets up in the middle of the night to eats huge sandwiches called Dagwood sandwiches and every time he runs out of the front door late to work he bumps into the mailman, Mr. Beasley and they both go flying. Dagwood's wife, Blondie is practical and even-tempered. They have two children, Alexander they call Baby Dumpling. And his younger sister, Cookie, Two other characters in the strip are Herb Woodley, his neighbor, and Mr. Dithers, his boss. Then there are the dogs: Daisy and her six pups which are also a part of the family in a way.

I learned the importance of family from this strip, which boils down to the fact that I never want to get married. It's nothing but a series of problems. Dagwood has problems with Blondie, his son and daughter, his pets, his neighbor, and his boss. If I sum up my feelings about married life in general? Hmm: _Marry in haste, repent at leisure_. You get nothing but problems.

Like what will happen to Ed eventually. He came to see me just before noon just like he said he would when he had bought the shoes on Tuesday. I was surprised to see that he was carrying a pizza because Ed is not a very giving guy.

"Hey, Man, how you like the shoes?" I asked to be polite.

"I don't," he said. "They're killing me."

"They probably just need some breaking in," I said.

"You sure you gave me the right size?"

"Sure. How does your girlfriend like them?" I asked, again trying to be polite.

"She says they're old man's shoes," he said.

"Well," I said, trying to provide Ed with some advice that I had learned from my study of the comics, " _The best way to bring harmony into your relationship with a woman is to play second fiddle_."

"What is that supposed to mean?" said Ed.

By this point, I thought I had better introduce him to Connie, just trying to be polite.

"Connie," said I, "Connie, this is my friend Ed."

"Hiya, Fred," she said.

"Ed."

She was watching TV, and she didn't take her eyes off the screen, not even to glance at the pizza Ed was carrying. She must have smelled it.

"Oh, they are out to get him, ain't they?" she said.

"Who?" I asked. The face on the television screen looked vaguely familiar.

"Cod, cheese and tamales! That's McCarthy. Senator McCarthy. Those crummy commies want to get rid of him," she said. She looked at me and then said to Ed. "He don't know the difference between Charlie McCarthy and Senator McCarthy."

"Oh," I said, "Ed, you know more about McCarthy than I do." I knew that Ed kept up with current events; at least he did when we were both students at The Refrigeration Institute.

"Uh, are you a McCarthy supporter?" Ed asked Connie.

"Cripes, yes. You bet your life. He's a real American. Them Red Fellow-travelers just hate his guts. I say, God bless him three ways to Tuesday. He's like family to me."

"So, you think he is a real American?" said Ed.

Dimly, it was then that I remembered that Ed had once told me that McCarthy was a phony and a demagogue. For some reason, I thought that he might like to say that to my landlady. He did.

"Let me set you straight. Joseph McCarthy is a phony and a demagogue," Ed said.

"Set me straight?" Connie said to him, "You ain't setting me straight, Buddy Boy. What are you? A commie? Are you a Red? Well, let me tell you. You ain't coming in my house and tell me you don't like Joe McCarthy." Her face was flushed.

"Well, this is the U. S. of A. I can believe what I feel like," said Ed, setting the pizza down on the coffee table as if he were getting ready to do battle.

"Who do you think you are that you can just barge in here and spout your anti-American garbage. Right there is the door!"

Realizing that I had made a mistake, I said, "Hey, Ed, didn't you tell me that you needed to go and pick up your mother?"

"Well, you better go pick her up right now, for Cripe's sake," snapped Connie. Her feet were pawing the floor. "Get your commie butt out my door."

Ed said to me under his breath, "With a mouth like that, no wonder she ain't married."

Then Ed turned and stormed out the front door, slamming it shut.

Connie shouted at me, "Is that the kind of friends you have? Well, don't bring them around here."

Seeing the pizza was still where Ed had left it, I asked Connie if she was going to give the pizza back. "No," she said, "Always beware of commies bearing gifts, but never look a gift horse in the mouth. Let me get me a knife to cut it up."

Then, there was a loud knocking at the door and the simultaneous ringing of the doorbell. I opened the front door.

It was Ed.

"I forgot my pizza," he said. He came in without glancing at Connie, picked up his pizza and stormed out again slamming the door.

No, I didn't follow him After that, I went upstairs and just stretched out on the bed and thought about this month. Nothing important happened. Except, Joseph Stalin, the High Mucky-Muck of Russia died. At least, that's what Connie said.

Chapter 4 - Prejudice

April 1953

_Monday_ : " _I'se regusted_ " to think anyone would ever call me prejudiced against a race other than my own. For your information, _Amos 'n' Andy_ is my favorite radio show.

Not only am I not prejudiced against any race, I am not prejudiced against the Catholics, the Baptists or any other religious cult, as misguided as they may be.

For example, today, when I went out to lunch, I happened to stop off at Penny's Nickel, and Dime Store where an elderly nun sits by the door all day holding a dish for donations. Even though I am not a Catholic, I felt compelled to contribute, and I did so to the tune of two crisp new one-dollar bills. Afterwards, I felt very good about what I had done, and I couldn't wait to tell Jody since she is Catholic, too.

Unfortunately, when I came back to the store, I made a _faux pas_ (a new phrase I just learned which is German or French or something) because, when I saw Bob and Roy standing together at the front counter, I told them about a drunk I had seen leaning up against a nearby store. "He looked like your typical Irish booze-hound," I said, exhibiting my extensive knowledge of people and their habits."

"Well, I'm Irish," said Bob, looking annoyed. "And I ain't no booze-hound!"

Neither Bob nor Roy smiled, and, in fact, both acted rather insulted.

"Well, I didn't know that," I explained,"or I wouldn't have said it."

They didn't say nothing in reply, so I just walked away,

When I went to the check-out counter, I found a memo taped to the cash register.

TO: All Employees

Date: Effective Immediately

From: Miss Estelle Rosenstein

Subject: Brunch

Miss Rosenstein has invited all employees over to her house this Sunday for Brunch at 11:00 AM. Please be punctual and wear old clothes.

I think this is quite an honor and I said so to Bob and Roy.

Later, Bob seemed to forget that he thought that had insulted him and he gave me a flyer that they had been handing out on the street. "The city put it out to stop, you know, intolerance. They have this campaign to make everybody get along," Bob said. "Here, read it. Then you won't go around insulting the Irish."

I glanced at the paper and put it in my pocket. "Sorry, Bob," I said. "I didn't mean nothing...er... anything."

The next thing you know, Joe, the insurance salesman was coming in the store. I thought of ducking down stairs to avoid talking about insurance with him but I decided not to. "How are you?" he said smiling genially. "How you doing today?"

"Ok," I said, "How are you?"

"Fine," he said, " How's business? Selling lots of everything, I hope."

"Well," I said, using a phrase I heard Roy use, "I'm keeping my head above water."

"Good to hear that," said Joe. " Did you find any time to think about life insurance?"

"Well, no, " I said. "Other than I have decided against getting any life insurance at this time."

"Oh," said Joe. "I'm sorry to hear that. I would just like to see you take advantage of this good opportunity."

"Well, if I die ---"

"You mean when, not if," said Joe.

Just then, a bunch of customers came in and I was grateful that I was off the hook. "Sorry Joe, " I got to go," I said, and I moved towards them.

"Ok," he said. "See you."

Later, after work I went home, and I asked Connie, " Did I get any mail or phone calls today?"

"Holy cheese and crackers. Do you think if you did, I wouldn't have given them to you?"

"Well, I applied to six different companies, and I've not got a single answer."

Connie said, " If I was you, I would be happy with what you already have and not be jumping around from one job to another."

I showed Connie the flyer Bob gave me, the one that they was handing out downtown today, which Bob said promoted the city's campaign to stop intolerance. I read the headline aloud: "THE CITY NEEDS ALL RACES IN ORDER TO RUN."

"Oh, you betcha. That is very true." said Connie, looking over the flyer. "It needs the colored people to run the elevators and shine the shoes, the Chinamen to run the laundries, and the Italians to sell the fruit and vegetables, and so on. Everybody has their place, no matter what their race."

For a moment, I thought about what she was saying. I know better than to argue with Connie, so I just said, "Oh, is that what it means?"

"You bet. That is very, very true. And it always will be," she said, and with that, she put the flyer down.

"Now, why don't you just sit down and watch Godfrey?" She said.

So, I watched _Arthur Godfrey's Talent Scouts_ with Connie and then went upstairs to my room to study my Sherwin Cody course in English.

_Tuesday_ : Before any customers came in, the phone rang and I answered it as usual with: "Haberdashery."

The voice on the other end asked, "What?"

"This is Joseph's haberdashery department," I replied.

"Who? Joseph Who?"

"No, no. This is the haberdashery department of Joseph's Men's Store."

"Well, I didn't call you."

"Oh, ok, you dialed the wrong number."

"What? I didn't dial no wrong number."

"Ok, but this is not the number you want."

"Then why did you pick up? Why did you answer?"

I just hung up without another word.

Later, for lunch, I went to The China Rose. This is a well-known Chinese restaurant in town, and after studying the menu, I ordered _General Tso's Chicken_ although I wasn't sure what it was. I pointed to it on the menu for I wouldn't think of trying to pronounce it because I had no idea of how to say the t and _s_ together. "General Tso's Chicken," my waiter said in English, pronouncing _Tso_ so it sounded like _Joe_."

"Ah so," I said, speaking in imitation of Chop-Chop, a character from _Blackhawk Comics_ to insure the waiter understood me. "General Joe's Chicken. Velly good."

"uh, Ok. Very good, sir. I'm sure you will find it to your taste, And to drink? Shall I bring tea?" my waiter said. All in surprisingly good English.

I nodded yes.

My waiter looked like Chop-Chop in _Blackhawk Comics_ except that he isn't fat like Chop-Chop, he doesn't wear huge thick eyeglasses, and he doesn't have buck-teeth. And, he wears ordinary clothes like everybody else instead of Chinese clothes. Also, he has a crew cut instead of the weird haircut that Chop-Chop has. And come to think of it, unlike Chop-Chop, my waiter speaks pretty good English, too.

So, when I told him so, trying not to embarrass him with my superior native English, I made my remarks into Chinese phrases I learned from Chop-Chop, which I am sure he would understand.

"Ah so. Speakee Engrish velly good," I said, using Chop-Chop's Chinese dialect.

"Well, thank you," he said, looking at the cashier who was standing next to him and who was looking at me and laughing for some reason.

"Where learnee to speakee so good?"

"Well," he said," I guess in the university. I'm working on my master's degree in English literature."

Well, imagine that, I thought. He and the cashier turned and both went into the kitchen. I heard him say something in Chinese and then there was huge burst of laughter from the kitchen. Of course, I have no idea what he said, because I do not speak Chinese.

In a few minutes, they brought my food in. "Enjoy," he said and burst out giggling.

"Lunchee smellee velly good," said the cashier, giggling uncontrollably.

"Karen, stop, " said my waiter and they both walked away.

So, somewhat puzzled by their behavior, I started eating using a fork and spoon, not chopsticks because I do not know how to use them. Then, for some reason as I ate my dish of food, I got to thinking about an old Halls of Ivy radio program. Anyhow, this was the one where there is this Chinese girl who is an honor student and who is running for campus president or something and everybody is mean to her because she is a foreigner. She drops out of college because of what she calls their prejudice and snobbery. Ronald Coleman, the president of the college, gives a National Brotherhood Week speech in which he says education has to make sure students understand the other sides' viewpoint. And he speaks out against prejudice and racist snobbery. After the speech, his wife tells him the Chinese student has changed her mind and is returning to give the college students another chance. But, I remember thinking at the time, shouldn't it be the students who felt guilty and willing to give her another chance?

Later, I ate several fortune cookies. Each had a message, but one of them I thought really fit me: _You have a reputation for being thoroughly reliable and trustworthy._

When my waiter brought my check, I gave him a very generous fifteen percent tip instead of my customary generous ten percent. "Thank you, sir," he said in perfect English as I got up to leave. Strangely, the cashier started giggling.

Then, I decided to show what the cookie said to everybody, even my customers, when I got back to the store. I thought that maybe I will show it to The Dragon Lady, which is what I used to call Miss Rosenstein. She needs to know the high quality of her employees, namely me.

However, back at the store, I realized that I must have left the slip of paper from my fortune cookie on my table at the restaurant.

After work, at home, I went up to my room to study my Sherwin Cody English course and afterwards to listen to the radio. Sometimes, one must be selective in choosing what to listen to. On my route to being a success, I don't want to waste my time on listening to junk. For example, tonight, when I turned on my radio, it happened to be tuned to some announcer saying, "Tonight's discussion topic for our guest panelists is _Explorations in Experimental Gestalts_." I tried to listen to improve my mind. The program started and after listening to about five minutes of it, and not being able to make head nor tails out of what they were saying, I decided to postpone my quest. I will find some other program for eggheads and I will listen to that. Now, don't get me wrong and think I am prejudiced against eggheads. I ain't. I mean, I'm not.

As for now, I felt like I needed that program, like I need a hole in the head. So, I turned the dial and luckily got _The Judy Canova Show_.

It was a riot. I heard the best joke I ever heard in my life which was two characters, Ma and Pa are sitting in squeaking rocking chairs on the front porch of their shack. Pa spots the garbage truck coming and says, "Hey, Ma. The garbage man is here."

"OK, Pa," says Ma. "Tell him to leave half a pail."

I couldn't stop laughing and even went downstairs to tell Connie the joke, but she was in the bathroom. Later when I was trying to fall asleep, I thought about it and started snickering. Hillbillies sure are dumb and stupid. And unsanitary.

Then, before dropping off to Slumberland, I thought about the honor of being invited to Brunch on Sunday at Miss Rosenstein's house. I will see a world that is the exact opposite of the one in The Judy Canova Show. Sunday will be a red-letter day for me.

_Wednesday_ : Today, at work, the morning flew by. At lunchtime, Jody came by the store even though she isn't working today. I told her about the food at the China Rose restaurant and, she said," Well, I was just going to say let's go to eat there. I just love General Tso's chicken."

The same waiter came to our table but he acted as though he had never seen me before so I acted as if I had never seen him before.

Instead, I acted as if I had eaten in Chinese restaurants all my life. I didn't even look at the menu and I ordered , "Ok, my good man. General Joe's Chicken and Chinese tea and don't skimp on the fortune cookies. For both of us."

"Very good sir," our waiter answered and he went into the kitchen. I heard some loud Chinese words and some laughter. A few heads appeared in the kitchen doorway, looking out at us. One of them was the cashier.

A few moments later, both our waiter and the cashier walked out and went to the other side of the restaurant. They both kept looking at us but talked quietly to each other.

"What was that all about," asked Jody?

I ignored her question and instead, I said, "You know what? I am planning to invest my money so I can get rich."

"What are you going to invest in?" she asked.

"Savings Bonds, " I replied. "You buy them for like $18.75 and then cash them in for $25.00."

"Sounds good," she said. "How soon do you get the $25.00? Right away?"

"I guess so. I don't know."

"Well, OK. Sounds good."

Our waiter brought the food and said, "Enjoy" and went to sit with the cashier.

Jody spent the rest of the lunch telling me the plot of _The Silver Chalice_ , a great book she was reading. We had a pleasant meal, but I actually couldn't wait until I got my fortune cookie because I knew it would say something complimentary about me.

Finally, our Chinese waiter brought our check and our fortune cookies to our table. I picked one out at random intending to read it aloud. I just knew it was meaningful. I read: " _You like Chinese food_."

Then, Jody opened her fortune cookie and read aloud: " _You have a reputation for being thoroughly reliable and trustworthy_."

"That's very true, Jody," I said. "Absolutely true."

We had separate checks as usual, but I noticed that Jody left only a ten percent tip. I was astonished because I thought her fortune cookie was worth a lot more. Well, five percent more. This time I also left just ten percent, too, because Jody had set the precedent.

"Thank you, sir and madam," said our waiter staring off into space as he picked up our money. However, I happened to glance back and saw both the waiter and the cashier looking at each other and laughing. I wondered why.

Anyway, after Jody left for home and I went back to the store, I remembered that I forgot to tell her about my generous contribution to the nun at Penny's Nickel, and Dime Store. I have decided to mention it when I see her next.

Back at the store, I was rearranging the ties, when I heard a voice and looked up and here was this chubby fellow in a rumpled suit with a raincoat draped across his shoulders. He had a huge walrus mustache and rather crooked yellow teeth. He looked exactly like Col. Blimp.

"'ello, 'ello," he said. "Are you a shop assistant?"

"No," I answered, "I'm a Professional Men's Fashion Consultant."

"I say. Riot. Looking for some smalls, I yam."

"For what?" He seemed to be speaking English but he wasn't making any sense.

"Smalls. Smalls. Vests and pants."

"Oh," I said and directed him to the suit department. In a few minutes he came back, Sol with him.

"He wants underwear," said Sol. "Show him some undershirts and boxer shorts. He's visiting from London, England."

"Riot," I think the man said, "Riot chew R."

"What did he say?" I asked Sol. "I can't understand a word he says."

"He said, 'Right. Right you are." Sol and the man exchanged smiles and nods.

I had to listen close to figure out what he was saying because they have different names for things in England. It turns out they call undershirts, vests, and boxer shorts, pants. And they pronounce things oddly as well. It's like they have an entirely different language. Sol stood with us to translate.

"HOW ABOUT SOME IRISH LINEN SHORTS, er, PANTS?" I said speaking slowly and loudly so he could understand me.

"IRISH? Oh, no, Might, Oi can't stand M!"

"YOU CAN NOT STAND LINEN?" I asked. "No. The blooming Irish!" he said.

"WELL, HOW ABOUT SOME SCOTCH PLAID SHORTS, um, PANTS?" I shouted, pulling more stock from the shelves.

"No, lad, Oi don't like the Scots – I there," he said.

I thought, Every day I meet some one else what hates everybody who ain't just exactly like them.

So, anyways, I finally got together some stuff that he decided to buy. Finally, Sol and I showed him how to figure out how to pay his bill in American money,

Then, he asked me something about what sounded like ironmonger's and chemist's.

"What?" I said.

"He wants a hardware store and a druggist," said Sol and we went outside and he directed the fellow to where he wanted to go. "Thanks, Yanks. Cheerio!" the fellow said and he left.

"Sol," I said, "Thanks for your help but that guy can't be from England. He don't speak English."

That night, I told Connie all about my experience in waiting on a foreigner.

Then, when I went to study my English course, I wondered why Mr. Sherwin Cody didn't mention that people in different countries speak different English.

_Thursday_ : Here was a front-page story in the paper today about the woman who was dressed like a nun who always sits at the front door of Penny's Nickel and Dime Store collecting money for the church. It turns out that she is not a member of any church but just sits there and keeps the money she collects for herself. I decided not to tell Jody that I had given the woman any of my money.

As it turned out, I scarcely had a chance to speak to Jody at all today. We were very busy all day long, and, for some reason, it seemed all of my customers wanted to buy hats. Everyone wanted that coconut stingy brim hat that I like too.

One of my steady customers is an elderly, wealthy, dark-skinned fellow everybody calls "Uncle" Leroy. I just found out that he is not just a salesman at The KKK but actually the owner. He sold me my radio on tick, which I hope to soon have paid off.

Eighty-some-year-old "Uncle" Leroy is apparently totally bald and wears a hat all the time, both indoors and out.. I personally have sold him about a dozen hats. It is an easy sale because he just picks out the hat in his size and never tries it on. I don't know why.

Anyway, "Uncle" Leroy and I were standing in the hat department next to the stairs when a blonde came down from the suit department."

"Do you know where they sell knickers?" she asked.

"What did you say?" snapped "Uncle" Leroy.

"Does anybody around here still sell knickers?" she said.

"Not since the Civil War," growled "Uncle" Leroy, looking annoyed.

"The silver wore? Wore what?" she asked.

"What are you talking about?" I finally got into the conversation.

"Knickers. My husband wants some knickers for his wardrobe."

"Wardrobe? Don't you mean woodpile?" snarled "Uncle" Leroy angrily.

"No-o," she replied. "We don't have a woodpile. I just want to find out where they still sell knickers."

"Please Madam, don't keep using that word. It's very offensive," I said.

"What word? I am looking to buy knickers for my husband. You know, the pants that come to the knees that they used to wear to play golf. Knickers."

"Oh," said "Uncle" Leroy, snorting. "I thought you said something else."

"Yeah, me too," I agreed. "I thought she was saying ... never mind. No, I don't know anyone who sells them."

"Oh," she said. "Ok, then." And she walked out.

"Uncle" Leroy said, "The lesson from that little chat is: _Mishearing what people say is often both the cause and the result of racism_."

"Uncle" Leroy and I looked at each other and shook our heads. We scarcely spoke as I sold him another hat, which as usual, he bought without trying it on. Even though I have said to him, "Try it on," he just won't do so. Finally, after he chose his hat, he peeled off the bills from a fat roll of currency he carried in his pocket.

When I finished waiting on "Uncle" Leroy, I began waiting on Mr. Greenberg and Mr. Casteluccio, both young guys who are tellers at the same bank. They both are getting ald but they each tried on a half- dozen hats. So, maybe being bald has nothing to do with the reason Leroy won't try on a hat. It's a mystery.

At any rate, I sold ten hats tonight, which I think must set a record. Even Roy said to Bob, "Let's face it, Bob, we both better get with it in the hat department."

Tonight, when I got home, Connie was sitting in the kitchen with some strange guy and they were watching wrestling which Connie calls _rassling_. Although she invited me to watch, I said, "No, thanks."

After I finished my fifteen minutes with Mr. Cody and his English course, I spent the rest of the evening listening to music. My tastes are wide and run the gamut from classical works such as the Ames Brothers' _You, You, You_ to off-beat, experimental works like Johnny Ray shouting _Cry_ , which I believe is the kind of music that the eggheads call _avant-garde_ , which is Spanish or Italian or something for the latest craze.

Although I usually don't read comic books, now that I am an adult, I had bought the current issue of one of my old favorites _: Blackhawk_. See, this is a group of pilots led by Blackhawk, who is Polish American and each is from a different country except for Lady Blackhawk and Chuck Wilson. Stanislaus is Polish. Andre Blanc is French, Olaf Bjornson is Swedish, Hans Hendrickson is Dutch, and Chop-Chop, the cook, is Chinese.

Even though the Blackhawks are fighting against evil, they are an independent team and not officially a member of the Allied Forces. They are entirely on their own. Their base of operations is Blackhawk Island and during the war when I first started reading them, the Blackhawks fought against the Axis and, then, after the war ended, they have been fighting the commies and other villains. The only difference is that they now all fly jet planes. Except for Chop-Chop who usually rides along with Blackhawk.

The characters are just what you would expect because of their different nationalities. Olaf is a dumb Swede, Chuck is a typical hard-headed Texan, and Chop-Chop wears Chinese clothes and has buck teeth. Just like I have been proclaiming all week., I am proud to say that I am not prejudiced against any nationality and I accept them for what they are. Their character is clearly shown in these Blackhawk comic books. In fact, I would go so far to say, if people from these different countries did not display these characteristics, there would be no way to tell them apart from people from other countries.

_Friday_ : After I got paid today, I spent my entire lunch hour at the bank waiting in line to buy a $25.00 savings bond for $18.75. Like I said, it is part of my new plan to become wealthy, which I dare myself to be. However, when I asked at what window could I get my $25 I was somewhat shocked to find that I would have to wait a long time to get my money. I thought I would get it immediately. This means I will have to change my investment plans.

Also, today, I learned something about dressing from Roy. I'm not sure how it came out, but I found that I should put my shoes on after I put my pants on, not the reverse as has always been the way I did it.

Then I overheard a bit from a strange conversation that Bob was having with a lady customer.

"I just have no idea what to give him for his birthday," the customer was saying.

"Well," said Bob, "Can I help you narrow it down?"

"Oh, goodness no," she said. "I want something full size. He weighs 300 pounds."

The phone rang so I had to leave. It was my friend, Ed. He asked me go with him after work to pick up his girlfriend's cousin, Florence, who was coming to visit her.

"Florence is a wonderful person," he kept saying. "Kate – you know my girlfriend -- is always saying how she has this great personality. Kate insisted that I find someone tall to go to her church carnival with Florence while she is here. So, that is why I asked you. She is going home tomorrow"

Ed told me he just got a new car -- new to him -- a second-hand 1952 Blue Satin Henry J Corsair Deluxe two-door sedan. Although it was a year old, Ed said that it was just like new.

So, after work, I changed into my new Dacron-and-cotton Black Watch Plaid sport-shirt, my chino slacks and penny loafers, which give me that Ivy League Look, I think. Ed picked me up in front of where I live.

Ed spent about five minutes showing off his car. To prove that I know about cars, I asked, "Don't you think the tires looked awfully skinny?" as I kicked them.

Ed let that go in one ear and out the other. "It's got the three-speed manual transmission," he said, pulling out of his parking space in front of my house with squealing tires.

He drove down to the railroad station where he said his girl had gone to meet the train. He then introduced me to Kate, whom I have met before though neither she nor Ed remembered. She's this thin, mouse-faced girl. She was with her friend, Florence, and, two kids about five or six years old, all of whom I've never met.

Florence was a large, moon-faced girl with a very bad complexion who wore very heavy makeup. But, worse, she laughed with an annoying snort at everything Ed said.

"I want you to meet Florence," said Ed.

"SNORT," she said.

"Florence. She works for the state."

"SNORT."

"OK, then, let's get into my new car. Kate, will sit up front with me, of course, and the rest of you in the back, and we'll go to the church carnival."

"SNORT."

We were really crowded in the back seat. with our feet up on the luggage. The two little kids kept staring at me except when I looked at them, and, then, they hid their faces. At the gate, Ed said, "Well, I guess we'll have to split the expenses. I didn't know the kids were coming. I guess that just ups the Annie."

"I believe the expression is ups the ante, dear," said Ed's girlfriend, Kate."

"Whatever," said Ed. "It just more money out of my pocket."

Everybody got quiet after that. Once we got to the carnival, I found out that the Catholic Church sponsored it. I didn't know Ed was going out with a Catholic. So, here I was supporting Protestantism, another faith, which just goes to show how open- minded I am. Anyway, the two girls talked to each other without stopping and Ed and I just tagged along.

We bought some soft drinks and hot dogs and then started getting on the rides. "Fasten your belts. It's going to be a bumpy ride," somebody said. It seemed to me that was a line right out of the movie All About Eve although it had nothing to do with the carnival ride.

The two kids were acting out a Three Stooges movie. As luck would have it, the rides made the kids sick. After they threw up, Ed and I had to sit with them for a while, while the girls talked intensely to each other. I realized that Ed and I never have much to say to each other. So, I sat thinking that I never want to have kids. I can't stand them.

I tried telling Ed a joke but he snapped, "Ha Ha. The first time I heard that I laughed so hard I fell out of my high-chair."

It turned out to be a long evening. Finally, we took them to Kate's mother's house.

"Well, better say goodbye, " said Ed, holding hands with his Kate.

"Goodbye." I said. "Don't take any wooden nickels."

"SNORT," said you-know-who.

"Toodle loo, " said Kate.

And, at last they were gone. Ed didn't say a word to me as he drove me back to my house. No one had explained what the relationship of the kids to Kate and/or Florence was, and I decided not to ask. "OK, then, Don't do anything I wouldn't do, " said Ed and off he drove and I opened the door to Connie's house and went in and upstairs to my English course.

_Saturday_ : I missed breakfast this AM by oversleeping, and I was very annoyed about it because I was late for work, and we were already busy, so I didn't even have time for a coffee break. Luckily, Miss Rosenstein wasn't on the floor to see me come in and Roy was busy and either didn't notice or didn't say nothing--- I mean anything."

A very expensively dressed lady came up to me when I was finishing up a sale at the dress shirt counter. She said, I would like to buy some shirts. "Ok, I'll be right back.," I said.

When I came up to the check out counter with the first customer, Jody said, "I was just going to ask if you wanted to go out with me now to early lunch."

"Sorry, " I said, remembering that the waiting customer had said she wanted _some_ shirts which might mean a big sale. "I have a customer waiting for me, and I can't. See if Bob will trade lunch hours with me and go with him."

Then, after she and Bob left, I realized how stupid that was because I had gone without breakfast and now I was going out late for lunch. I hoped I wouldn't collapse from the hunger pangs of starvation.

So, expecting that this would be a big sale, I went over to my waiting customer. She was standing in front of the shirt department, adjusting her jewelry. I picked some shirts up off the counter and put them on the shelf. "Now, may I help you, Madam?"

"Yes," she said, "I want a fused collar white broadcloth shirt, neck-size 15 1/2 and 33 inch sleeve."

I reached up and pulled out exactly what she wanted.

"What else?" I asked.

"That's it," she said.

"Oh, I heard you say you wanted some shirts and I thought you wanted more than one. Would you like to see a tie to go with this one?" I asked.

"No, thanks, that's it. And I'm on my lunch hour so I'm in a bit of a hurry," she said.

So, in minutes, I rang up the sale and she was out the door. I expected I might make a big sale, but she bought the cheapest shirt we sell. Then to make matters worse, not another customer entered the store. Bob and Jody were gone an hour and a half instead of the usual hour. When they came back from lunch, I took off. A doctor who was a good customer of mine was coming across the street, but I wasn't sure that he was going in, and since I was starving, I decided not to wait. He didn't see me.

When I came back from lunch, Bob said, "Hey, the doctor asked for you, and since you weren't here, got me to wait on him. He bought over $500 worth of sweaters and shirts to give as, you know, gifts."

Further, Bob said, "The doctor and I hit it off so well that he wants to ask for me the next time he comes in the store. I hope you don't mind."

After work, Jody had to go right home because her parents had company coming, so I took a walk around downtown. I was looking in the window of the Kaplan Kredit Kompany at the television sets when suddenly Ed's girlfriend Kate came by with her mom, a heavy-set woman, that looks like Mamie in _Moon Mullins_. I asked them to go for coffee at This Ritzy Coffee Place and we sat in a booth. Kate made some idle chatter. I noticed these soldiers in a nearby booth kept staring in our direction.

One soldier came over and said to Kate, "Don't I know you from high school or something?"

They struck up a conversation and talked animatedly for awhile leaving Kate's mother and me to make some small talk about why I should go to see _The Robe_.

Finally, Kate said, "Ralph and I are going to go to see someone we both know, but don't you dare tell Ed that you saw me or that I went with Ralph."

Kate's mother said, "Oh dear me, it's getting late and I must be getting home." Unfortunately, they all left at this point and when the waitress brought the check, I had to pay the whole thing. Finally, I, too, went home.

I was excited and looking forward to tomorrow and thinking about what old clothes I have and that I could wear and finally settled on a pair of chino pants and a light tan knit polo shirt.

Connie called me downstairs to answer the phone. It was my mother.

She was breathless to tell me the latest on the scandal at the church and to tell me who was going to fill the pulpit tomorrow.

She said, "There's a big battle over whether the preacher's wife should give the sermons since he is gone. A lot of people in the church don't believe in women preachers."

"Um Hm," I replied.

"And even worse, the District Superintendent is sending a Reverend Goldberg to fill in," she said.

"Hm hm"

"See, this Goldberg is a convert. He was Jewish. OK? Some of the congregation don't want a Jew as their pastor even if he is an ex-Jew."

"Unh Hunh."

"Oh, and I always thought the preacher put the words up on the billboard. But it's his wife that does it. This week she put up A prejudiced person is someone who is too stubborn to admit you are right. I think that is a strange choice after what she is going through. I would have put up something like Preachers who commit adultery should be burned at the stake. OK, then, I will let you know what happens," she said. Bye."

And once again, I had to tell Connie word-for-word what my mother said.

_Sunday_ : When I awoke today, I said to myself, Today is the day I shall see how the rich live. I got dressed in old clothes just as Miss Rosenstein had asked use to. I wore a pair of chino slacks and a maroon gabardine shirt instead of the tan polo shirt I had picked out yesterday.

I bought only coffee and a doughnut because I didn't want to spoil my appetite for the brunch that awaited me. I had bought the Sunday paper but I didn't have time to read it as I usually do. Instead, since I had time to read only one page of the funny pages. I picked _Li'l Abner_. I could have picked _Little Orphan Annie_ , because Daddy Warbucks is a rich man and I am going to visit the rich Miss Rosenstein's house for our brunch. But instead in stark contrast, I picked _Li'l Abner_ , set in Dogpatch because that will make the contrast even greater.

I splurged and took a taxi to Miss Rosenstein's house, which turned to be a huge brick house set back from the street with a big lawn with bushes, trees, and an iron fence. After I paid the cabbie, he looked at me and then at the tip I had given him. "Ain't you something, Bud? You live in a fancy house in a neighborhood like this and you give me a quarter tip. You sure you can spare it, you cheapskate? Maybe you should use it to buy yourself some decent clothes." I was getting ready to explain that I didn't live here and I was dressed in old clothes because my employer who owned Joseph's had asked me to do so as her guest. But he just kept on muttering insults so I didn't say nothing. Then he drove off and I went up and rang the bell.

Everybody from the store was there. Well, Jody wasn't but she's only a part-timer. Neither was Bob's wife and Sol's wife were not there, nor was Jonathan, I noticed. We all wore old clothes as Miss Rosenstein told us. Actually, Roy's old clothes seemed to be nicer than anyone else's. I expected that we might be going to play some outdoor games.

"We hill wave, uh, will have something to eat in about a half hour," Miss Rosenstein said. Her maid was setting the table. We all walked around the house and grounds, ending up at the pool, which was empty.

Miss Rosenstein said, "I would like you to do me a little favor, which is to help me paint the pool."

Everyone stood stock still while this sank in.

"If each of us uses a brush or roller to waint the palls, uh, paint the walls, it won't take more than ten or fifteen minutes," she said.

Still silence.

"And it will mean so mery vuch, uh, very much to me if you can help me on this one little thing," she said.

At this point she disappeared leaving us with the cans of paint and the brushes.

Steve the stock-boy said, "I don't want to do this."

"You don't have much choice," said Sol. "You have to toe the line."

"What line? And why do I have to pull it?" asked Steve the stock-boy.

"T-O-E the line. Not T-O-W. ' _Toe the line_ ' is an expression that means do what you are told."

Bob shrugged. "Well, let's get it, you know, over with."

He pried open the can and started mixing the paint which was thick and hard to stir. Without a word, Roy started handing out the brushes and rollers, and we started slapping the paint on the walls of the pool.

Sol was sweating and he looked very tired so Roy made him sit down in the shade. Soon Roy, Bob, Steve the stock-boy, the part-time girl from the office, and I were all soaked with sweat. Miss Rosenstein was nowhere to be seen.

It didn't take 10 minutes. Actually, it took a couple of hours. I was so hungry my stomach thought my throat was cut. It was about 1:00 when we finished. As if by magic, Miss Rosenstein appeared looking fresh as a daisy. "Oh my," she said, "Finished already. You all did a jeautiful bob, uh, beautiful job. Come and wash up and have brunch."

The brunch turned out to be some stale bagels and cream cheese and lox, which was some kind of very salty fish. The coffee was so weak, it had to be helped out of the pot. Conversation was a bit strained with everyone. I knew not to complain because it would be hollering down the rain barrel.

"If you want to play tennis, you may," said Miss Rosenstein. "You wight mant, uh, might want to sweep the court off, first."

"No, thanks," said Bob, examining the blisters on his hands.

The party broke up soon after the brunch. Bob gave me a lift in his brother-in-law's car, which was actually a pick-up truck. We were both silent the whole way.

Connie was not in the kitchen. I was tired, and I took a short nap. Soon after I woke from my nap, I read _Snuffy Smith_ in the Sunday comics. Snuffy and everybody in the strip is the exact opposite of Miss Rosenstein. He is a North Carolina moonshiner whose favorite expressions were _great balls of fire_ and _times a'wastin'_ which have become a part of the language. He lives in a shack in Hootin' Holler with his wife Loweezy. He loved his pottery jug of moonshine, which he called _corn likker_. Snuffy is Sheriff Tait's _ne_ _mesis_ , a vocabulary word Mr. Sherwin Cody taught me. A lot of people are prejudiced against the kind of people portrayed in this strip.

Not me.

I have thought about it and, because prejudice is based on opinion and not fact, I have come to the conclusion that I will strive to be tolerant of even how rich or poor a person is as well as his or her color or religion or national origin. I'm not sure, but I think Connie would agree because I remember Connie once saying to me, " _Nice guys always finish last if they do unto others as they would have others do to them_."

Chapter 5 - Status

May 1953

_Monday_ : I'm as shocked as an electrician with his thumb in a live socket. Steve the stock-boy just bought a brand new car, a 1953 Plymouth. I am absolutely flummoxed. Bob and I and Sol, in the suit department, are all Professional Men's Fashion Consultants, and none of us owns a new car, which is the ultimate status symbol, in my opinion. Steve the stock-boy's machine was parked in front of the store, so we all came out to look at it.

Like Bob said to me, "Steve the stock-boy buying a new car. 'You could have knocked me over with a fender.'"

I said, "The expression is knocked me over with a _feather_. "

"Bob said, "Knocked me over with a _fender_ makes more sense considering the situation."

"OK," said I .

"Two-door blue two-tone, Belvedere hardtop sedan. Full wheel discs. Lots of chrome," said Bob. "Whitewall tires," he said and kicked them.

Steve the stock-boy said, "I got the big engine and the automatic transmission."

Even Roy said, "Let me tell you something. Let's face it. This is a beautiful status vehicle."

"How much did it cost you," asked Sol, chewing on an unlit cigar.

Steve the stock-boy stated a figure, which I couldn't hear. Then, he said "I _chewed_ them down five hundred dollars."

"Oh?" said Sol, taking the cigar out of his mouth and looking around. "You did what?"

"He doesn't know any better," said Roy. Sol turned and walked back inside.

"You shouldn't have said that," murmured Roy to Steve the stock-boy.

"Why?"

"Sol is Jewish, and that phrase is insulting."

"I never heard that before. What does _chewed_ have to do with being Jewish?"

Roy just shook his head. "I don't know which is thicker – your skin or your skull."

"They gave me a price and I took bites out of it.. I _chewed_ them down. All my friends say that."

"That's not what we heard you say," said Bob. "If brains were ink, you couldn't dot an I."

I just stood there. I said, "Now you are insulting Steve the stock-boy."

"Ah, nothing gets through that iron head," said Bob.

So, I tried to change the subject. Since he lives in Sloppy Hollow, a poor run-down area where most people are on welfare, I asked him, "Aren't you afraid that someone will damage your new car or steal it?"

"Oh, no," said Steve the stock-boy. "Most of my neighbors have new cars."

"Why is everybody outside? Who is satching the wore, uh, watching the store?" said Miss Rosenstein, suddenly appearing on the sidewalk. Everybody dashed inside.

"We were just looking at Steve the stock-boy's new automobile," said Roy, holding the door open for Miss Rosenstein.

"CEW NAR, er, NEW CAR? He has a new car? How much are we paying him?"

Roy whispered something to her.

"REALLY? Why, we could get gwo tirls, er... two stock-girls for that!"

Roy continued talking quietly to Miss Rosenstein as they moved to the back of the store. By this time, customers were coming in and Bob and I got busy.

Later on, since he owns a new car, I asked Steve to bring me to work each morning. This way, I'll be assured of being at work on time each day without fail. Of course, I will have to pay him little something, but it'll be worth it. I won't have to run to catch the bus, and I won't have to walk to work when the weather is bad.

"That car will get you lots of, you know, girls," said Bob.

"Yeah, but I have to beat the girls off with a stick now," bragged Steve the stock-boy. Which is true. I wish that I was as successful as he is with women.

So, I was a bit surprised when Bob said to me this afternoon, " Some female I was waiting on asked who you were."

"Really?" I said, pleased as can be. I never brag about it, but I'm aware of how attractive I must be to the opposite sex. Think about it, I'm a very smart young guy with a great personality who looks like a thin Joe Palooka. I'm always well dressed. I have a glamorous job in an elegant store. I even had one person tell me that I don't have a job--I have a position. It's a puzzle to me that I don't have a girlfriend.

"She told me you applied for a male modeling job," said Bob.

"Oh, right, I wrote a letter to this advertising firm answering their want ad for part-time male models. I didn't do it for status or anything. I just thought it would help my job. They never replied or anything, and I had almost forgotten about it."

Roy and Bob literally laughed their heads off.

Roy said, " Don't let Miss Rosenstein find out about it." Everybody kidded me about it the rest of the day. When Sol the Suit Salesman, came by, he said, "So, where's our male model with the _shayna punim_?" which is Jewish for pretty face or something. I don't know what I will say when the woman calls me for a job.

I didn't say anything about it to Connie when I got home but went straight up to my room, and spent my fifteen minutes with my Sherwin Cody English Course.

_Tuesday_ : I was late to work this morning. It turns out that Steve the stock-boy overslept this morning and thus came in late, and, as a consequence, he didn't pick me up. He did not call, so I didn't know what was what. Finally, after waiting about fifteen minutes for him, I decided to take the bus.

Unfortunately, I just missed it, and I had to walk to work. The traffic was terrible, and the lights were against me. Out of breath, I arrived fifteen minutes late. Just my luck, Miss Rosenstein had come in early. In fact, she held the door open for me.

"Just coming in?" she asked sarcastically. I saw that Steve the stock-boy was already there at work so I started to explain, but she cut me short. "We'll talk to you about this later," she said. "Right now, there are waiters who need to be customed on."

What? She meant 'customers who need to be waited on" But I kept my yap shut.

I never got a chance to explain my reason for being late to Miss Rosenstein, who eventually left the floor. During a long lull in business, Joe, the insurance salesman came in. I couldn't avoid him.

"How you doing?" he said. "Everything going ok?"

"I guess so," I said.

"Listen, he said. I've been thinking about you and your situation. Or, more to the point about your mother. Now listen to me. If anything happens to you, God forbid, you are putting a big obligation on your mother to take care of your final expenses. I'm going to show you something that is just out. This is the least expensive policy you can obtain but it covers your final expenses and then some. I just want you to look it over and think about it. And think about your mother. You don't want to leave her in a bad position Just look it over."

Joe handed me the brochure and then he left, turning at the door to smile and wave goodbye.

After awhile, I got to thinking about my being blamed for being late although it was not my fault and I told Bob that I thought I had a good excuse for being late.

But, Bob didn't want to hear it. He said, "You know me. I'm never late. I am always careful to be on time. I always arrive on the dot. I am known for my punctuality"

I saw that Sol was downstairs and listening in on our conversation. He said, "Well, boys, let me tell you. Being punctual means you only waste your own time."

"Well, maybe," said Bob

"Listen" said Sol. "I just want to tell you a story about Steve the stock-boy. OK? I gave him two one-dollar bills and I told him to get me a cigar with one and a bottle of medicine with the other. A simple task, right?"

"Certainly was, Sol," said Bob. "So tell me , what happened?"

"Well." said Sol. "Just now, he came back a half hour later."

"Yes?" said Bob. "A half hour later?"

"Yes. And get this, he comes back without anything."

"Yeah?" said Bob.

"So he comes up to me and I say, 'Well, did you get the cigar and the medicine?'"

"Yes?"

"And he says to me, 'I forgot which was which," he says. "Which dollar was for the cigar and which dollar was for the medicine?"

Boy shook his head and laughed. "What an idiot. What an imbecile."

So I said to Sol. "Well, which was which?"

I don't know why, but both Bob and Sol stopped and stared at me without saying a word. Then, they looked at each other, shook their heads and just walked away laughing. I didn't say nothing. But I didn't get it. What was the point to Sol's story?

A customer came in and I went out to lunch, and, then, when I came back, I started to tell Roy about Sol's story.

"I already heard, " said Roy. "It's best if you just forget the whole thing."

OK," I said,, but I didn't get it.

"Bob came by on his way out to lunch and just chuckled and shook his head.

Then, while Bob was out to lunch, his wife, Doris came in with her friend, the one with the big schnoz. As they waited for Bob to return from lunch, I overheard them talking.

"Tell him to forget it. You don't need him," said her friend.

"Well, I'm just not sure."

"Look," said her friend, "All you need to do is to take him to court, and they will order him to give you half his salary each week. Although that can't be much money from working at a low level job like a sales clerk."

Later I told Bob, "Doris' friend told her to take half your salary. Why, you would just be able to scrape by."

Bob just shrugged his shoulders. I wish I could dismiss my worries like that.

Then Bob said, "What worries me more is what Roy said."

"What was that?" I asked.

"Miss Rosenstein might replace us both with sales girls who would work for less money.'

That thought kept both of us quiet and subdued for the rest of the day.

When I got home, I asked Connie if anybody called or if there was any mail.

She said," No. Jiminy Cricket. If there was, I would have told you."

"I am still waiting to hear from some company I wrote to," I said.

She was watching Bishop Fulton J. Sheen on TV.

"I didn't know you were Catholic," I said.

Connie said, "Holy Cow, you don't have to be Catholic to watch Bishop Sheen."

So I told her the story about Sol sending Steve-the-stock boy out for a cigar and medicine hoping that she could tell me why everybody laughed at what I asked. However, I got the exact same reaction from her.

"Holy cannoli," she said, laughing. "Sometimes you say such stupid things. I wonder why they keep you down there at a nice store like Joseph's. You are so stupid, you don't know to come in out of the rain."

Connie was still shaking her head when I went upstairs to my room. I still don't know what the whole business was all about. I mean Sol gave him two one-dollar bills. So which was which?

Then, I started studying my Sherwin Cody English Course for the required fifteen minutes.

_Wednesday_ : Steve the stock-boy picked me up this morning ten minutes late, but he said this would be the last morning that he will be able to do so. It seems that he has to get up too early if he picks me up, so I will go back to walking to work or taking the bus.

As usual, I had breakfast this morning at the counter in Doug's Drugs. My favorite waitress has quit and gone to work someplace else. They told me where but I forget.

Anyway, something hilarious happened when I was stuffing my face. I sat down next to Roy, who was reading the sports section of the morning paper. He grunted to me when I said hello because he was so absorbed in what he was reading. When the waitress, this new Polish woman, brought his coffee, he was still reading the paper. He picked up the creamer and carefully filled up the ashtray with cream. He must have been in a bad mood because when I cracked up and pointed out what he had done, he jumped up and ran out.

Afterwards, Roy seemed to be trying to avoid me all day even though I told Bob, and we had quite a laugh about it. When Jonathan stopped by, I told him, too.

Incidentally, I am remarkably regular about what I eat and where I eat it. For breakfast, for example, I go to Doug's Drugs. For lunch and dinner, I have the same thing every day at Pop's Grille. Except on Sunday, when I go to the diner.

Today, however, because of several events, I was the only person on the floor, and I had to work straight through lunch. I sent Steve the stock-boy out to buy me a cup of coffee and a tuna fish salad sandwich from the coffee shop at a nearby hotel. I charged the store for it.

When she found out, Miss Rosenstein chided me on the phone for spending so much money in buying an expensive sandwich, even though I did it to compensate myself for working the extra time.

I didn't reply, though I felt like telling her that it's no wonder the workers of the world need to unite because the only thing they have to lose is their chains. I heard that somewhere, maybe from Connie, and I agree with it. It is very, very true.

A customer came in who had phoned earlier and had me put side a size extra-large light-blue short- sleeve sport shirt which was on display in the window. I put one in a bag with his name on it on a shelf in the back behind the cash register. When I went to get it, the shirt was gone. I searched all through the stock and couldn't find another one. When I asked Bob and Roy if they had seen it, they said they hadn't. So, I told him the bad news.

"What?" he exploded. "I phoned you and you told me that you put one away special for me."

"I know. I did. I had it in a bag on a shelf with your name on it. I don't know what happened to it. Do you like the gray? That's a great shade, too."

"No! I have to have a blue one. That's the only color that I want."

I searched downstairs although knew all the stock was upstairs. He was getting more and more angry.

"Of all the rotten luck. That's the only color shirt that will go with my jacket and slacks."

"How about the gray. That's a nice shade as well," I said.

"No! I have to have the blue. How about he one in the window?"

"That's a medium size," I said. "We never pit extra large sizes in the window."

"Would you check ?" he said. "I can only use the blue. I am really annoyed."

I checked. It took some time, but I got the shirt out without destroying the balance of everything in the window. I showed it to him. It was a medium.

"Blast it all," he said. "What happened to the one you put back for me. I must have the blue."

" Take a look at the gray. It's very nice color as well."

He picked it up. "Is It extra large?"

"Yes."

"Ok. Give me the gray." And I did. Then , after I rang up the sale and gave him the package, things got pretty quiet. I put stock away while Bob was rearranging the jackets. Roy was doing some paperwork. A florid-faced rawboned woman in a print house dress came in and looked round.

"May I show you something?" I knew that she was going to be shocked at our prices.

"Chew Half slip purse?"

"Excuse me?" I said.

"Slip purse. Fur war end howl us."

"What did you say?"

"Slip purse. Lake Rat Cheer," she said as she picked up a pair of house slippers.

"Oh, slippers. For wear in the house. House slippers."

"Rat. Howl us slip purse."

"Oh sure. House slippers. What size?"

"Tan. Hay war tan."

"Ok. Ok. Ten. Size ten."

I got the slippers in size ten and brought them over to her.

"Hits fan. Howl mush?"

"How much?" I pointed to the price tag.

"Fan," she said and took the money out of her purse.

I rang the sale up, and handed the merchandise and the receipt to her.

"Thank you," I said. "And if you don't mind me asking. Where are you from?"

She smiled a toothless smile. "Bawl more, Merl land."

"Oh, Baltimore, Maryland."

She nodded.

"Oh, my, isn't that nice. Please stop in to see us again. Thanks. Good bye."

She waved her hand and left.

I was pleased that once again, I had been able to understand a difficult dialect.

So much for that. Anyway. I decided not to go see a movie and I went home to see if the modeling agency has made me an offer. Later, at home, I found there was still no answer from the modeling agency. So, like we students say, I hit the books, or, rather, just one book: _The Sherwin Cody 100% Self-Correcting Course in the English Language._

_Thursday_ : What comes of playing the fool happened today. I was downstairs next to the Steve the stock-boy's table, drinking my coffee. Miss Rosenstein never comes down here.

Steve the stock-boy has posted some pictures from some girlie magazine on the wall from the desktop up to the ceiling. The ceiling is very low.

Bob came stomping down the stairs. He was looking for some shirts or something. He spied Steve the stock-boy's pinup pictures on the wall and made some crass remark about one of those ladies.

Then, Bob shouted, "WHOOPEE!" and jumped straight up in the air, forgetting the ceiling is only seven feet high, and he is more than six feet tall.

Bang went his head into the ceiling, leaving a dent in the plaster and white dust all over Bob's scalp and shoulders.

Bob reeled and stumbled, holding his head, and, eventually, he wobbled up the stairs. Steve the stock-boy and I roared with laughter.

Like I said, that's what comes of playing the fool. I told Jody about it when she came in to work, and she said, "It serves him right."

Roy's friend, Jonathan, came in to go out to dinner with Roy. While he was waiting for Roy to finish what he was doing, he said to me, "I hear you want to be a male model."

"Not really," I said, " I just thought that I would answer their ad."

"We have several close personal friends who are models," he said. Then Roy came by, and Jonathan said to him, "I was telling him that we should introduce him to Bruce and Woody."

"No, I don't think so," said Roy, rather stiffly.

Then, as they both left, customers started coming in. One of them was wearing a three button single-breasted suit and he had all three buttons of his coat buttoned up. As I showed him some shirts, I said, to give him a useful tip in my role as a Professional Men's Fashion Consultant, "You know, usually, you just wear the middle button buttoned and the others unbuttoned."

"I know, " he said, "Do you think I'm stupid?

"Oh," I said, realizing that this guy didn't know that fashion is status.

"I'm just buttoning my coat like this is because I spilled something on my shirt and I want to hide it. Why do you think I am buying a new shirt?"

He took the shirt and went in the changing room to put it on. Then, he came out and asked me to throw his old one away.

"There, " he said, "See? I buttoned only the coat's middle button, OK? You happy now?"

As I saw him leave, I noticed that he was wearing white cotton socks, so that sums up what he know about men's high fashion.

Late today, Roy called Bob and me over. "Well, you fellows will be happy to learn that Miss Rosenstein has decided not to hire salesgirls. Luckily, I was eloquent enough to persuade her that both men and women prefer to buy higher priced goods from male sales personnel. Male sales people seem to provide the feeling of high status. So, your jobs are safe. At least for the time being."

"Thanks, Roy," we both said and then got very busy.

Oh, yes, when I got home, I told Connie how I felt about job security and the need for unions in retail stores. I said, " It's just like you say, "Workers should unite because the only thing they have to lose is their chains.

"Holy snap," Connie snapped. She was furious. "You ain't never heard me say that! That's right out of the _Communist Manifesto_. I never said nothing like that! That's Karl Marx You are a tool of the communists if you think that. And, if you do think that way, you should move. I don't want nobody here who talks like that."

"Sorry," I said, "I didn't mean it that way."

She went on and on and finally, I retreated up to my room, apologizing as I went. When I thought about it, I realized that Daddy Warbucks had pointed what Connie said about workers to Little Orphan Annie a hundred times.

Since I have not heard from the modeling agency, I am beginning to think that they may have lost my address, or that their answer was lost in the mail.

I sat in my room thinking how the idea of status was seen in two comic strips: _Our Boarding House_ and _The Little King_. In _Our Boarding House_ , the house was owned and run by Martha, the Major's wife. Major Amos B. Hoople avoided work and was a schemer, and a windbag. He was always trying to trick the boarders, Mack, Buster, and Clyde out of money in various ways. He had no status but always made up stories about his great adventures and financial worth.

In contrast, the little king is a very democratic character who is willing to do any kind of physical labor himself. His sign of status is his crown which he wears even while he is asleep. However, even without this status symbol, he would still be king. However, the little king never brags, as does Major Hoople. In fact,, he rarely, if ever, speaks. He always has status for he was born with it; for all his striving, Major Hoople never will achieve status.

Anyway, improving my English will improve my status as I claw my way up in world. So I started studying my Sherwin Cody English Course as I do every evening five days a week.

_Friday_ : Sol came in with his daily joke: "I asked this fellow if any famous people were born around here, and, he said, no, only babies."

I tried to repeat the joke to one of my customers, but got it all _bollicked_ up, but my customer said, "Oh, that's very good," anyway and chuckled a bit. So, it wasn't a total loss.

A customer came in the door, pulling a sport-shirt out of one of our bags. Before the customer uttered a word, Bob said, "Got one of those fish shirts do you? C'mere. I'll take care of you." He pulled out a pile of sport shirts to swap.

These sport-shirts were made of cloth dyed by defective chemicals. When someone puts one on, his body temperature activates something in the dye and makes him smell like fish.

We are supposed too make an exchange or to issue a credit memo, but not to give a refund. Miss Rosenstein keeps insisting that we turn over to Roy any customer who insists on a refund. Roy insists that we let him know immediately when a customer with a fish shirt comes in the door. So, Bob phoned Roy who was in Miss Einstein's office to tell him we got another fish shirt in as we called them. In the meantime, I was waiting on another customer, and I was surprised to see that in just a few minutes, Bob's customer walked out carrying an enormous package.

In a few more minutes, Bob appeared, looking very puzzled. "Where did my customer go?" he asked.

"He left," I told him. "He had a big bag of stuff. You really converted that sale quick."

"No, I didn't," said Bob, looking out the door up and down the street. "I was on the phone and then I went to get something, and he walked out with that whole pile of stuff without, you know, paying for it."

We told Roy, and we went outside and looked for him, but it was too late. He was gone. Roy was very mad about it and even called the police but there was nothing we could do.

Joe, the insurance salesman, came in right at lunch time. "I'm just going for lunch," he said. "Do you care to join me?"

Well, I thought, that is kind of him. "Ok," I said.

We went up the street to Max's Deli, a place I have never been in before. A waitress handed us menus.

"Oh, I forgot they only serve sandwiches," said Joe. "But they make good sandwiches."

So, Joe ordered a Reuben and a Dr. Brown's celery tonic. and I so did I, out of curiosity, since I never had either a Reuben or a celery tonic before..

We chatted a bit and then he asked me whether I had given any thought to insurance coverage made out to my mother as beneficiary. He explained all the benefits of the policy and how my mother would be grateful if anything ever happened to me and how the cost was so low that it was less than buying an I don't know what every day.

The Reuben turned out to be a grilled sandwich consisting of sour kraut, Swiss cheese, corned beef and salad dressing on rye bread and it was out of this world. I never had a sandwich that good before. So, when I finished the sandwich and the tonic which was just an odd tasting soft drink., I signed up for a term life policy for the minimum amount. When we finally parted, we shook hands. "You will never regret this great step forward that you took," Joe said and he left.

Back at work, in the afternoon, Roy spent some time pointing out to me various selling points of our products, which I should tell our customers about. For example, in sport shirts, our best seller right now is a nub weave cotton blend which doesn't need to be ironed and which won't shrink. It is available in blue, tan. gray and white in short sleeves.

Since we will soon be enjoying summer, we have several short sleeve shirts in lightweight fabric in both solid pastel colors and a variety of small and large geometric patterns. Roy said, "People like to hear you describing them as you show them."

Anyway, I had just about forgotten about everything Roy told me by the time I reached home, I was thinking about enjoyed reading Winchell's most recent column. He came out with a very clever wording for "playboys." He calls them _play-bores_ " I will try to work the word into a conversation, but it may be hard to do. Sometimes, you can't do it. For example, I once told Bob that one of our customers was getting married by using Winchell's term, saying they _middle-aisled_ , but he didn't get understand.

I never miss Winchell's weekly radio broadcast if I can help it. It is very dramatic with the telegraph key clicking and his saying, "Good evening Mr. and Mrs. America, and all the ships at sea. Let's go to press." Maybe, I will go and see him in person sitting in a booth at the Stork Club, when I go to New York City on my vacation in August.

After I finished reading the paper, I took it downstairs to Connie. She asked me to bring my newspaper home at night, so she can read the news. Sometimes I remember to do so, but it is an annoying nuisance, as far as I am concerned. I think that she should buy her own paper; it is not my place to provide it for her. Connie gave me my mail, which turned out to be some replies to the requests I sent to the opportunity magazines. All the offers were very interesting, and I am sure that I could make a lot of money with any one of them. It is kind of hard selecting the one that I like the most. For example, I have been given the opportunity to obtain the semi-exclusive territory in my area to build and distribute specialty cases to carry cameras and other equipment, which sell for very high profits.

Or, I have been given the opportunity to invest in equipment to flock the lining of a car trunk with velour. Or, and this is really neat, I could apply for an exclusive limited dealership for The K-MAX Patented Specially Impregnated Cleaning Cloth that will bring any metal to a high polish and can be sold quickly and easily door-to-door. The only thing is that I will have to buy ten gross to get started. I'm thinking it over.

_Saturday_ : Business today was like most other Saturdays, busy in the morning and less so in the afternoon. However, just before closing time, in came this guy that Roy caught shoplifting last week. The guy was stuffing some sports shirts under his jacket and Roy caught him red handed. While we stood around him, the guy put the shirts back. Then, Roy gave him a short lecture on why it was wrong to steal. He finished by saying to the guy that he was not going to call the cops this time, but that the guy was banned from coming into Josephs ever again. Now, here he was, a week later, coming back into the store.

Roy said, "What are you doing coming back into our store when you were banned permanently because we caught you shoplifting sports shirts?"

"But, I gave them _back_ ," the guy said,

"Get out of here and don't ever come in the store again," said Roy.

Bob held the door open for him and gave him the evil eye as he left.

"Can you believe the nerve of that guy? " said Roy.

After work, I went home to get ready for a night out. Ed's girlfriend fixed me up with a blind date with a girl she knows named Marcia, who needed someone tall to go with her to a concert. She said Marcia was as cute as a button. Since Marcia was supplying the tickets, Ed's girlfriend said that I should offer to take her to eat before the concert. I agreed to do so. I wore my new summer-weight charcoal-gray wash-and-wear suit, a white button-down collar broadcloth shirt, and my pink-and-black regimental striped tie and my black wing-tip shoes. If I were asked to describe my attire, I would say that I exhibit the sartorial splendor of Adolphe Menjou. In short, I think I really looked spiffy -- appropriately dressed for a concert.

Jody phoned just before I left. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"I'm just on my way out to a concert." I said.

"By yourself?"

"Well, no, a friend of a friend of mine needed someone to go with her friend and they asked me."

"Well, have fun," she said in what I thought was a strange voice and hung up.

Anyway, I picked Marcia up at her apartment, or rather her parent's apartment in Richfield Towers on River Road, which is a nice brick building in a good section of town. I didn't go all the way up to her place on the tenth floor; she met me in the lobby. She wore a classy black dress and a string of white pearls. I thought we looked good together. Like a well-to-do couple out on the town.

To show my sophistication, I repeated the line that Gene Kelly said to Nina Foch in _An American in Paris:_ "That's quite a dress you almost have on."

"What is that supposed to mean?" she asked.

"Oh, you know," I said.

"No."

"Well, never mind."

"Is my dress torn or something?"

"No. Never mind."

Do I have something soiling it?"

"No. Never mind,"

We took the bus downtown. I realize that to go out on dates, I need a car. I would like to get something like a brand-new Ford Sunliner convertible or a Crestline Victoria hardtop. I am a Ford man, in contrast to Steve the stock-boy, who is a Plymouth... boy.

Marcia is a very thin girl and seems like a very nice person, but she is rather shy.

We went to eat dinner at Magaro's. Just to be safe, I had brought some Chlorophyll Gum for after dinner. We both ordered spaghetti.

Now, my mother always took a dim view of poor table manners. So, I was astonished to see the way that Marcia ate. Her table manners were for the birds. In fact, eating with her was rather embarrassing. She didn't open her napkin and put it on her lap. Instead, she just wiped her fingers on it as it lay folded on the table.

She didn't cut her spaghetti up but sucked it in like a second-hand vacuum cleaner. She talked with her mouth full, and she had tomato sauce around her mouth and chin.

It turns out she was a telephone operator. She told me about her job.

"They had to take me off the line today," she said, taking a forkful of salad and then talking with her mouth full. "This caller got me so upset that I just couldn't go on. The supervisor came by and just took over, and I went on a break."

I had the greatest problem in thinking of things to say to her. That's strange because I make my living by talking. I tried to put into effect what Dale Carnegie wrote in his book, _How to Win Friends and Influence People_ , which is to ask people about their hobbies and so on. But, doing so, I just struck out with Marcia.

Marcia's hobby was her job. She was interested in only one thing: her job at the Bell Telephone Company. Now, even though I know how to use the telephone, I couldn't think of anything to ask her about her job.

All I could think of was her disgusting table manners. But, being polite, I didn't say anything. At about time for dessert, she disappeared in the bathroom and didn't come out for a long time. I was on my third cup of coffee when she came out.

We went across the street to the YMCA hall where the concert was to be given. It turned out to be a really highbrow affair. An acquaintance of Marcia played the piano while a chubby young baritone sang half dozen songs from operas and such.

Afterwards, we went up and shook hands with both the pianist and singer. I said, "Well, thanks to your talents, a good time was had by all." I thought that was a very complimentary comment, but they all just looked at me without saying a word.

Then, Marcia said, "I am dying for a hamburger and a milkshake."

So, we took the bus to the Blue Pig. The place was crowded with high school kids who had just come from the football game. I said, "I feel a little bit out of place because we are adults, and we were surrounded by children."

"Oh, really?" was all she said, and, then, she launched into a description of how she sets up a long distance call, and how the other operators can't hold a candle to her skill.

Luckily, most of the kids were in cars served by carhops, and we sat at the counter inside. The burgers and shake came and she set to devouring them with no holds barred. She even ate half of my French fries without asking if she could. In addition to being dazed by her atrocious table manners, I was amazed at how much she ate. After we finished eating, she disappeared in the bathroom for a long period of time.

We took the bus home and just before we arrived at her home, I don't know why, but I heard myself asking, "Would you like to have brunch with me tomorrow morning ? I thought you might enjoy that because you eat a lot for such a skinny girl."

She said, "Oh, really?" in kind of a funny voice. But. not funny, ha, ha.

_Sunday_ : About 10:00 AM, I went to Marcia's apartment house and rang the bell. No answer. I rang and rang several times, thinking that she had overslept. Finally, I was buzzed in, and there was a huge, gray-haired man with a Smilin' Jack mustache, standing in his underwear right there in the lobby, looking down at me.

"What do you want?" he asked in a rather surly manner.

"Where's Marcia?" I asked. "She's supposed to go to brunch.

""She ain't here," he said.

"Well, she told me to come at this time."

"She ain't here."

So, I backed out the door. I really don't underhand what has what happened Since I was by myself, I didn't go to brunch; instead, I went to the diner and had breakfast which they serve all day. I ate slowly and neatly.

I read _Bringing Up Fathe_ r over and over. This is about Jiggs, an immigrant Irish bricklayer who became a millionaire but was never able to stop acting like a working stiff. Maggie, his wife, his wife, dresses in fine clothes and tries to act like a well born lady, and break into upper class society, but she, also, is still, at heart, low class. They have a daughter, Nora, who dresses to the nines and seems to be at home with wealth.

Jiggs gets into trouble by his desire for corned beef and cabbage and staying out till all hours at a local tavern with the boys. When he comes in late, Maggie throws dishes at him. I guess you can see why I say that Jiggs proves the point that Bob is always making when he says you can take the boy off the farm but not the farm off the boy.

Then, I went home where later Connie called me to the phone. It was Kate, the girl friend of Ed, the fellow I met at The Refrigeration Institute when I was enrolled as a student there last summer. He had her phone me because Connie and he had a disagreement.

"Hi, this is Kate, Ed's girl" says Kate. "If you wait in front of the candy store. We'll pick you up at 2:00."

"OK," I said and then," 'Bye." It was now 1:45, so, I went upstairs and quickly changed into my chino pants and a short sleeved shirt. Then, I went back downstairs, said goodbye to Connie and went outside and around the corner to stand in front of the store. This cloak-and-dagger stuff was needed because Ed didn't want to run into Connie.

Well, sir, not long after that, Ed showed up with some guy from The Refrigeration Institute named Alphonse in the back seat of his Henry J or Allstate automobile. Kate sat in front so I climbed in the back and it was very crowded because Ed's friend had his guitar with him, Ed introduced us and said everybody calls him Mumbles because he looked like the character in Dick Tracy, the con man with blonde hair and droopy eyelids.

Mumbles had his guitar along with him because I think that he is a country and western singer. Ed must have told me that because Mumbles didn't say word one from the time I climbed in, not even hello. As we drove off, Ed said," Mumble's got a lot of talent. If'n he can get on _Major Bowe's Amateur Hour_ radio show or someplace, he will be a big star.

Well, we arrived at The Refrigeration Institute where the talent contest was being held . I saw a few other students whom I knew as we went inside to the room where the event was to be held. There were some other contestants already there. and about a hundred people in the audience consisting of students and their girlfriends and wives.

Ed was the Master of Ceremonies, so the contest was soon underway. He tried to be funny as he grabbed the microphone and started talking, "I was going to say, Ladies and Gentlemen but I know you all too well to call you that. So I will just say, Fellow students and your women friends, welcome to The 1953 Refrigeration Institute Talent Show. This is where we hear the talent that we otherwise don't know about. We have ten contestants. The first one is Alphonse Morgan who sings Country and Western Music. OK, Mumbles will do _Chattanooga Shoe Shine Boy_ for your listening pleasure."

Mumbles walked up to the microphone carrying his guitar. He struck a chord and said what sounded like "Oak--key." Then, he whispered hoarsely, " _Hit goo sum thin lake these_ ..."

"Mumbles said, 'It goes something like this.'" translated Ed.

Right away, Mumbles struck up some more chords and started the song. It sounded like he muttered in his hoarse voice, " _Half goo liver pasta coroner Forth end Gr_ ant."

"What's that ?" said one of the three judges.

Mumbles stopped and Ed answered, "He's singing _The Chattanooga Shoe Shine Boy_. You know, " _Have you ever passed the corner of Fourth and Grand_ ..."

"What?" said the judge now standing up. "It didn't sound like it to me."

"Try something else," said Ed to Mumbles who immediately started strumming his guitar.

This time it sounded like: " _Fat pig ate squealer rowing town detract_ ..."

"WHOA. STOP. WHAT WAS THAT?" said another judge.

" _I'm Movin' on_. Hank Snow and His Rainbow Ranch Boys' big hit!"

"I know country-western music and that song in particular. He didn't sound nothing like that to me," said the judge.

"Sure, it does," said Ed. "It starts off " _That big eight wheeler rollin' down the track_."

"No no no. You can't even understand the words the way he sings it and he's even got the chords wrong. You got to stop if you can't do no better than that."

Mumbles shook his head and said, " _Dun no muffin bough mood sick_."

Ed said, " Mumbles said that you don't know nothing about music."

"Bring on the next act, " said one of the judges.

"Ok." said Ed. " Sorry, Mumbles. Give him a big hand anyway."

Mumbles picked up his guitar and case and walked off the stage looking very unhappy.

"Well, OK, then. Now," said Ed "let's listen to the song stylings of the man in the blue suede shoes. Carl Williams singing _How Much Is That Doggie in the Window?_ "

Carl was accompanied himself on a guitar. He was much better than Mumbles, and he pretty much sang in tune.

Then we heard Don Green doing a solo on his trumpet. Greenie did a pretty good job although the song he played was very old fashioned. It was called _After the Ball_.

Ronald Sweeney played a song that I think is called _Plight of the Bumble Bee_ on the violin which was pretty good..

Richard McCarthy sang accompanied by his sister on the school piano. Both were terrible.

Leroy Williams did a tap dance to a recording, which unfortunately skipped probably because his dancing jiggled the floor and the record player, which was sitting on it.

And much more.

Afterwards the judges awarded first prize to Ronald Sweeney and second place to somebody I don't know who played the piano . And third place went to Leroy Wlliams in spite of the skipping record.

So then those of us still there drank some orangeade and we ate sugar cookies supplied by the school . I talked to a few of the- people I knew. There was no sign of Mumbles and his guitar. Nobody knew where he went. Finally, Ed and Kate and I left. Ed dropped me off where he picked me up.

No sooner had I got in the door than Connie said my mother was on the phone.

"Well," my mother said, "the District Superintendent sent us another minister today – The Reverend Tiffany Something-or-other. You know, a lot of people in the church don't want a woman preacher to begin with."

"And to top it off, she drove up in a brand-new red sports car, when some people in the church are still driving the same car they had before the war. Well, she prances into the church like she owned it . Next, it turns out that she sings as well as preaches. So, after singing some hymn that sounded like opera screeching, she delivers a sermon, if that's what you call it in which she discussed the Christian woman's place in the postwar world. It turns out she's not married. Well, no wonder."

My mother went on and on like this forever and a day. I finally broke in on her monologue.

"Is the church going to have her continue or what?"

"Well, after the evening service which was worse than the morning service, some of the men thought we should ask her back on a trial basis, you understand for a limited period of time. Someone said she has a doctor of divinity degree and that would give the church some status and recognition in our community. So they voted too keep her in for a spell."

"So." I said "I guess the message on this week's billboard reads like ' If you need a status symbol, you don't have status.'"

"Oh, no," my mother said, "Nothing like that. It said, if I remember it correctly, _Don't be so open minded, your brains fall out_."

"That's better yet, Mom. Gotta run. Bye," and I hung up.

I told Connie , "My mom's church got a temporary preacher and it's a woman."

"Well, good luck with that," she said. "I'd be embarrassed to tears if I had to admit I went to a church that only had a woman preacher. Like everything else, a church needs status."

"Status?"

"Sure. Is it a big church or a small church?"

"A small church."

"Well, you know, as far as the status for churches: _The bigger the better, but good things come in small packages_."

I went upstairs to my room to think that over.

Chapter 6 - Teamwork

June 1953

_Monday_ : I am as mad as a bull wearing glasses with red lenses. Every time I do something good, somebody else gets the credit.

For example, I spent my lunch hour putting the neckties in a new arrangement. When Miss Rosenstein saw them, she went straight to Bob and congratulated him. That is why I am now trying to determine whether the best chances for my success will be obtained through teamwork or individualism.

However, today, when I came to work, I found out that Sol the suit salesman was sick and needed a blood transfusion. A part- timer was filling in for him.

Roy said, "You know, we all should walk over to the hospital and give blood for Sol. Let's face it. He would do the same thing if we were in need of blood."

"OK, right. We'll do that," Bob said, adding, "Steve the stock-boy can do it, too."

"OK. Count me in," I heard myself saying. Although I have never given blood before, it obviously was a noble and good thing to do, which is the sort of thing that I like to do, being the kind of person that I am.

Then, it turned out that Bob had once had Hepatitis or Yellow Jaundice and that he couldn't go and give blood. He and Roy said they would watch the store until we returned. So, Steve the stock-boy and I walked over to the hospital, about three blocks over.

In the hospital, we signed something or other and then the nurse said to Steve the stock-boy, "Sorry, since you are only seventeen years old, you are too young to give blood."

That meant that I was the only one who could give blood. So, the nurse began testing my blood by taking a couple of drops of it and letting one-drop fall into a test tube full of liquid.

"What did you do that for?" asked Steve the stock-boy.

"Oh, we test for iron in the blood," said the nurse.

"Yeah, they drop it in the liquid, and, if it sinks, your blood contains iron," he said to me.

He roared with laughter. Even the nurse cracked a smile. It didn't break me up, and I just sat there. Apparently, it was so funny that the nurse and Steve the stock-boy kept smiling at each other. In fact, the nurse seemed to take quite a shine to him.

As a more mature and wiser person than Steve the stock-boy, I tried to set the record straight, "Whatever iron there was in the blood, the amount would be so small, it wouldn't make it any heavier," I said.

As you can see, I am a very clear thinker, which is no doubt the reason that I passed science in high school. For some reason, we didn't have science at The National Refrigeration Institute. As I was speaking, I realized that I might have missed my calling. I would have made an excellent doctor, probably a brain surgeon. I read the Rex Morgan, MD daily comic strip once in awhile. Now, I am considering following the strip more closely. There are a lot of medical techniques described there that I could pick up on.

I repeated my theory about the small amount of iron in the blood. Finally, the nurse looked at me with a strange expression and said, "He was just joking."

I said, as patiently as I could, "I know it was supposed to be a joke. I just explained my theory because I have an interest in medicine. In high school, I even wrote an essay on Pasteur curing rabbis."

"You mean _rabbits_ ," said Steve the stock-boy.

"No, he means _Rabies_ ," said the nurse. "Pasteur invented a vaccine for Rabies."

The nurse looked at Steve the stock-boy, and they both just kind of cracked a smile.

Anyways, the nurse took my blood, and I must admit I felt a little queasy just watching her do it although I didn't let on. On our way back to the store, though, I had to sit on a fireplug for a few minutes because I got a little dizzy. I bought a chocolate bar and eating that made me feel a little better. When we both got back to the store, it was busy, and Miss Rosenstein was on the sales floor helping out.

"Where on earth have you been? We're busy here," she said.

"We were giving blood for Sol, or, rather, I was," I said.

"Well, that didn't lake tong, take long," said Miss Rosenstein, "And, good heavens, why did you have to nick pow to do it?"

She meant _pick now_ but I thought that the best answer was no answer, so I gave it, and I started in waiting on the customers and was kept busy the rest of the day.

After work, since I was in a medical frame of mind, I went to see _White Witch Doctor_ , which starred Robert Mitchum and Walter Slezak who were searching for lost treasure in the jungle, and Susan Hayward who was teaching the African tribesman about modern medicine.

All in all, I wished I had gone to another movie theater to see Lew Ayres in _Donovan's Brain_ which is all about this doctor who keeps a dead millionaire's brain alive. If I become a doctor, this is the kind of thing I would do.

To make it even more fantastic, when I got home, Connie mentioned that she might go to see the doctor tomorrow. And, when I went up to my room and turned the radio on, you'll never guess what program was on. It was... are you ready for this? _Young Doctor Kildare_. Then, I opened the newspaper to the comics section and what was the first comic strip I saw? _Dr. Rex Morgan, M.D_.!

No doubt about it.. I must enroll in medical school. The signs are clear. As I dug into my English course, I realized that I was natural born student working on my own. As the wise sage said, _There are times where we need other people to help us, but, mostly, we are alone_.

_Tuesday_ : I bought a paper on the way to work. "I see you have the right change this time, bud," said the news dealer. I have no idea what he is talking about or why he thinks it fit to make pointless snide comments to his customers. He wouldn't last five minutes at Joseph's.

Although I don't usually do it, since I wasn't too hungry I decided to skip my usual coffee and bagel before work and send out for it later.

So, I stood in front of the store and opened my paper. I turned right to the comics as usual. Well, the first thing you know, here I am reading _Rex Morgan, M.D._ thoroughly which I used to just skim over. But, now that I was thinking seriously of turning my skills towards the field of brain surgery or maybe open heart surgery, I felt it was my duty to read about others in the field of saving lives and doing such heroic work.

Bob came up and said " Morning." I told him that I had decided to make something of my life and enter the medical profession as a doctor of medicine. "Oh, so you think I ain't, you know, making something of my life by working in a clothing store?" said Bob looking somewhat peeved.

"No," I said, somewhat annoyed that Bob used such poor English. "It isn't that. It's just I have discovered that my destiny on earth is to be a surgeon and save lives."

Just then Roy came up and took out his key to open the door to let us in. "Hey, Roy get a load of this. Our boy here says he discovered his destiny is to become a great surgeon."

Roy was laughing as I said, "I didn't say great."

"Ok." said Roy. "Let's go in and sell some shirts and ties, Doctor."

"After you, Doc" said Bob, bowing to me and gesturing wildly.

Well, they both kept it up making jokes about my interest in the field of medicine. Finally, I sent Steve the stock-boy out for my morning coffee and when he came back I went down to the basement to read my paper and drink my coffee. I heard Roy ask, "Where did he go?" and Bob answered, "He's downstairs prepping for surgery," And they both laughed.

Suddenly I heard a loud, "Ow!"

It was Steve the stock-boy. He was cutting the cardboard cartons open with his razor, the way he always does in a reckless manner and he cut his hand and was bleeding.

Well, the sight of Steve the stock-boy's blood made me feel kind of funny. I watched Roy take a bandage out of its package and wipe the blood from Steve the stock-boy's hand, and then everything turned fuzzy.

The next thing I know, I was stretched out across the seats in the shoe department and Bob was holding some strange smelling stuff up to my nose. I heard laughing.

"What happened?" I asked.

"You just passed out. You fainted," said Steve the stock-boy.

"What?"

"Yes," said Roy. "When you saw that he was bleeding, you just went down."

I noticed that Steve the stock-boy had some sort of medical tape on his finger.

"Shouldn't we call an ambulance? You should go to the emergency room," I said.

"Nah, I just sliced my finger a bit. It ain't nothin'," he said.

"Looks like you can't stand the sight of blood, Doctor," said Bob and everybody laughed.

Then, they all got back to work as if nothing had happened. Every so often, however, all day long, I heard nothing but comments about my fainting at the sight of blood as if that was what really happened.

Later, when we weren't busy, I mentioned my going to Marcia's party to Bob, and he said, "Well, you know, Doc, Doris and I have been, you know, getting along better lately, and we've been invited to a masquerade party."

"A masquerade party. Wow! What are you going to dress up as?"

"I don't know," said Bob, laughing. "Maybe as a surgeon like you."

At lunch, I was starved to the gills. So, at Doug's Drugs, I was gulping down my second bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich when the waitress said to me, "You're hungry as a moth on a synthetic blend sweater." I thought that was pretty clever thing for someone who is just a waitress to say to a Professional Clothing Consultant. I repeated it to Roy and Bob when I got to work because I thought it was a perfect joke for those of us in the business. But, they didn't even crack a smile.

In fact, Bob said, "That don't make no sense, Doctor. It should be a wool sweater because that is what moths eat." Again, I noticed that the way Bob spoke English was really ignorant. He used the double negative all the time, which Mr. Sherwin Cody cautions one to avoid. But, I didn't say anything.

Then, someone came in to return a synthetic blend sport shirt that he got as a gift. I recall that I had sold it last week to two ladies. Since it was a synthetic blend. I thought I would give him a laugh. Like Roy says, a joke can sometimes makes things easier.

So, I came right out with the comical remark the waitress made to me: "Somebody told me I was as hungry as a moth eating a synthetic blend sweater."

"That's a good one," the customer said. Then he looked at the sports shirt he was returning. "Do moths eat synthetic blends?"

"No," I replied. "That's why it's funny."

"Oh, yeah, right," he said, looking around in a rather puzzled way.

Like I said, I remembered selling this very same shirt. I had these two women customers who were picking out this knit shirt for the boyfriend of one. They had asked me what size I wore because he was about my size.

"Medium," I told them. "I'm six feet two inches tall and weigh one hundred and thirty-one pounds."

"Oh no. He's much bigger than you," said one of the women. "Oh, much bigger. Give us an extra-large," said the other, teaming up on me.

Now, here was that guy in person returning the extra- large sport shirt. He was five-two, and he weighed about one hundred pounds soaking wet –- he was size small. I exchanged the shirt and sent him on his way. It seems to me that this is just another example of how people, even though well meaning, never really see the individual as he or she actually is.

_Wednesday_ : It recently occurred to me that my personality is the result of the influence of Popeye in the comic strip Thimble Theater. Popeye always acts as an individual. You never think of him acting as part of a team or a group. When Bluto grabs Olive Oyl which is the usual reason for their conflict, Popeye and he have a fight. However, without spinach, Popeye usually begins to lose. After he eats spinach, he is remarkably improved and begins to pound Bluto into submission. As for myself, I don't like spinach although it has no influence that I can see on my physical powers. Candy bars seem to make a difference for me though, no matter what brand. I seem to have more energy and think better when I gobble down a candy bar.

Anyway, getting back to Popeye in the strip _Thimble Theater_. It is a comic strip that I followed since I was a little baby, probably longer than that. I understand the characters although sometimes they may seem puzzling. I never liked Olive Oyl very much mainly because even though Popeye tries to please her, she always wants to go with Bluto and then when Bluto attempts to harm her, she calls for Popeye to rescue her.

Bluto then beats up Popeye until Popeye opens his can of spinach and swallows it by mouth or sucks it in through his pipe. Popeye then defeats Bluto. Popeye's pipe by the way is not used for smoking tobacco but for use as a torch or other tool.

Other unusual looking characters such as J. Wellington Wimpy, a little fat guy with a bristling mustache who loves hamburgers more than anything else, populate the strip. Then there is the Sea Hag, who is a witch and a pirate and her friend Alice the Goon who is ugly and strange but kind of a nice person who sometimes takes care of Swee'pea, a baby who is apparently Popeye's adopted son.

There are many more characters, most of them with unusual and unforgettable names such as Castor Oyl, Olive's brother; George W. Geezel, who hates Wimpy; Rough House, a cook; Poopdeck Pappy, Popeye's father; and Ham Gravy, who was Olive's boyfriend in the early days, or so I have been told. All the characters act strictly as individuals.

Besides these characters and their unusual names, the strip also introduced some other words into use. The one I remember most since I was a little kid was the cat-like character named Eugene the Jeep. A small open car used in World War II – the jeep was named after him.

But in addition to influencing our English language, and introducing weird characters into our society, there is a theme running through Popeye's comic strip. There isn't any teamwork involved in Popeye's world; only Popeye solves the problem. What _Thimble Theater_ teaches us is this: Although teamwork is important, group decisions are often wrong. Popeye proves that it is the individual who is important!

I kept thinking about why spinach makes Popeye strong. I suppose it's the iron it contains. But, just like I said about the iron in the blood at the hospital, it can't be that much and also it is unreasonable to think that it goes into his system that quickly. At any rate I am starting to believe that you are what you eat.

I intend to change my diet, which is heavily sugar and salt, to one that is healthier. I intend to carefully monitor how I eat and what I eat and so forth. I will eat three meals a day all carefully balanced. I will begin this payday.

As soon as I got home, Connie started in, "You remember Julius and Ethel Rosenberg? They both was just electrocuted today at Sing-Sing." Connie has been talking about them for weeks.

"Now," Connie said, "For Pete's sake, everybody is saying we have to counter Russia's use of their deaths as propaganda."

Propaganda? I haven't the faintest idea of what she was talking about. The whole Rosenberg business was as clear as mud, so far was I am concerned, so I just said, "Uh hunh," until I could get away from her and go to my room. Whether the individual or the team is more important depends on who is making the judgment, which is the cause and which also is the result of propaganda..

_Thursday_ : Today, you will remember, we open at noon. No customers were waiting with us. Just the Joseph's employees stood by the front door until Roy arrived to let us in. We hadn't gotten inside for more than a minute when Bob said to me, "Last night, my sister-in-law, Blanche, she came to stay with us for awhile. She's broke up with her, you know, husband, Harold."

"Unh hunh."

"Yeah. My wife told her she can stay as long as she wants," said Bob. "She said that since Blanche is out of work, she could stay home, and, you know, watch our house."

"Unh hunh," I said.

"After she came, the two girls talked most of the night about how Blanche's husband, Harold, drinks and argues with her and treats her badly."

"Unh hunh."

"This morning, my missus shushed me several times when I was eating my cereal because she thought I was making too much noise with my spoon clinking against the bowl which might, you know, wake her poor tired sister up."

"Unh hunh."

"Then, later, when Blanche got up and came downstairs, I was getting ready to leave for work. So, then, I told her that Harold shouldn't have left her, and Blanche, she says, 'Don't you say a word against him."

"Unh hunh."

"I tried to tell her I didn't mean nothing,"

"Anything," I said., "You didn't mean anything, not you didn't mean nothing."

"Whatever." said Bob. "I told her I ain't trying to attack him, but she just kept going."

"Unh hunh,"

"She says, 'A sweeter man never existed. Don't you try to put him down.'"

"Unh hunh."

"So, next, my wife ,Doris, jumps all over me."

"Hunh."

"Look at how you're treating my sister,' Doris says to me. 'Oh, if you only treated me as half as well as Harold treats her."

"Unh hunh."

"So, I took the trash out and when I came back to the kitchen, Blanche had gone back upstairs, and my wife told me that Harold is just begging her to come back."

"Unh hunh."

"So, you just can't win. I mean sometimes you should just do like they say and let sleeping logs die."

"I think the expression is let sleeping dogs lie and what does that have to do with it?" I said."

"You sure think you know everything since you stated taking that course," Bob snapped. "Don't forget. It's only a correspondence course."

Then we both had to go wait on some customers.

When Jody came in later, I started to tell her what Bob and his wife had said, but she just let it go in one ear and out the other and said, "Well, guess what I was just going to say? I passed my LPN Exam."

"Wow! Congratulations," I said.

"Yes, I am now a fully Licensed Practical Nurse. And..."

"What?"

"I got the job at the State Hospital. I start Saturday. First shift.. Seven to three. Monday and Tuesday off."

"Congratulations."

"So, tonight is my last. I have to tell Roy I am quitting."

"Front," called Roy which means I had to get up to the front of the store to wait on customers.

"Congratulations," I called out to Jody as I left.

"Thank you."

I didn't get to talk to Jody any more after that because we were swamped. At closing, she and Roy went upstairs to see Miss Rosenstein, I guess.

When I got home, Connie just waved to me. She was talking on the phone to someone. "So, they had a two-hour show on both NBC and CBS. Yes. Ford's 50th Anniversary. Mary Martin and Ethel Merman sang a duet. They were a perfect match together." I was glad to be able to get up the stairs without getting involved in that conversation. Maybe before I become a doctor, I should get a job in the medical field. Like Jody.

_Friday_ : Today, I was busy all day. Just before closing, Roy said , there was a phone call -- for me. I was surprised to hear it was from Marcia -- the girl I took to dinner last month. I had almost forgotten all about her.

I said, "Hi. I thought we were supposed to go to lunch."

"Oh, wow," she said. "Yes. Well. My father was sick in bed, and I had to take care of him."

"Wasn't that your father who answered the door?" I said, puzzled.

"I don't know," she said. "Anyway, I wanted to see if you can come to this party I am giving on Saturday at eight o'clock."

I said, "Well, I guess so."

When she hung up, the phone rang again, almost immediately. I picked it up and said, as usual, "Haberdashery," expecting a customer. Instead, it was Jody and when I happened to say that I was just invited to a party by Marcia, she said, "I hope you have fun," in what sounded to me like a strange voice.

Later., when I read the paper, my horoscope said: _Avoid all decisions today_. So, clearly, I should know more before making a final decision about asking Jody to go to the movies, so I will let it go until tomorrow.

When I arrived home, I found out that Connie has been watching another Senate Sub-committee on TV today. It had to do with the fact that they were short of ammunition in Korea and some lady senator named Smith had something to do with it. Connie's eyes shone as she explained it all to me.

I said, "Unh hunh" about a hundred times. Sometimes she gives me the screamin' meemies. Finally, I got away from her when the phone rang.

"Gee Willikers. Is that all you can say, unh-hunh?" she said as she picked up the receiver.

"Unh hunh."

"Wait. It's your mother. Now don't stay on too long because I am expecting a call."

"OK. Thanks," I said and took the phone. As usual, my mother was calling about nothing and after awhile, I hung up the phone and headed upstairs.

In my room, I thought about what I was going to wear to the party tomorrow night and about Marcia inviting me especially when I thought she didn't like me very much. It just goes to show you that you can't tell with girls. You just never can be sure what they are thinking. Bob made a very profound observation on the subject recently when he said, "You can't live with or without girls." Or, something like that.

I went over what I would say to her several times in my mind. I am as happy as a clam.

When we weren't busy, Roy said he was glad to see we were wearing our ties knotted with the wide Windsor knot, which is now in style.

Then, he got to talking about how he started at Josephs after he was discharged from the army in 1945. He came to work here under some sort of government program, which paid part of his salary as he learned the business.

"The thing that struck me first was the ties," he said. " In those days we had what they called The Bold Look which was short ties five inches wide with all kinds of weird designs on them. Before the war, men wore vests and the width and length of the tie were hidden. You wore your pants high so the belt was at your belly button. So the length of the tie was short."

"Then a couple of years ago, they started The New Look, which had ties narrower and longer like they are now. Men wore their pants lower and the ties were longer. That's when they started the foulards with a small pattern against a solid color, and regimental stripes. That is British. Over there, you have to wear a specific necktie which is part of the school uniform so they can tell by looking at you where you go to school. When they get older, they continue wearing that tie to show they are proud of where they went to school. And military regiments have the same thing. The Brits have the stripes running from the left shoulder down to the right side. The US stripes run from the right shoulder down to the left side. The Brits don't like it if you wear a school tie or a regimental tie if you don't have the right to do so."

Customers were beginning to come in so he finished up his little lecture. "Make sure you show your ties to the customer like this." He wrapped the tie around his forefinger so you saw just what it looked like when it was tied.

"Hello," I said to the lady who was standing at the shirt counter. "What may I show you today?"

"I want a dress shirt," she said. "Light blue."

"Certainly," I said. "What size?"

"Light blue," she said.

"Yes, we have light blue, but what size do you need?"

"Light blue," she replied.

"Ok, light blue. But, I need to know what size shirt he wears. 15 1/2 -33 or 16-34?"

"Oh, my goodness. I have no idea. I never thought about the size."

"Is he about my size?"

"Oh, no, he's much bigger than you."

"Well, we run into this all the time. I suggest that you get a 16 1/2 x34. Then, if it is not the right size, bring it in and we'll exchange it for whatever size you want."

"Well, all right," she says. "Light blue."

"Now, then," I said. "We have a light blue in a spread collar, a button down collar, a pin collar, and a fused collar."

"Oh, my goodness. I have no idea. I never thought about the collar."

"Well, may I suggest the spread collar. Most men like it. And again, he can exchange it, if he wants another collar."

"Well, all right," she says. "Light blue."

"Fine," I said, "And, now, would you like to see a nice tie to match this."

"Oh, my goodness. I have no idea. I never thought about a tie."

This dialog went on and on about the tie and a suggested pair of socks. Finally, I was able to get her to the check-out counter. I said, "Now, don't lose the receipt and if you need to make an exchange, we will be happy to do so."

After I finished with my customer, I started thinking about the way my vocabulary has expanded exponentially, another word that I learned from my Mr. Sherwin Cody's Course in English. Also, I have learned military words. For example, at Joseph's, everybody is a veteran and makes military comments all the time, such as, "Did the eagle fly yet?" This is a cleaned up version of what they say in the military to mean that payday has arrived. So, that is why, in addition to now learning a lot of Jewish words, I also know much of military lingo, all of which I often work into my conversations with my customers. I guess that boils down to-- I can think of myself as an individual or a team member on the basis of my vocabulary. I am who or what I say I am.

_Saturday_ : Today is the day at last. I have been looking forward to this day because of the party. But, when I started talking to Bob about his party, he seemed very annoyed and didn't want to talk about it. Then, he said, "Me and Doris went to the, you know, masquerade party last night, and I was all dolled up in Doris' clothes as a woman, .Like I say, I wore her red dress and carried her matching handbag, and I wore, you know, mascara and lipstick. And she dressed up in my clothes as a man. Doris wore my blue serge suit with a white shirt and tie. And black shoes."

"Wow," I said. "You both must have looked spiffy."

"But, see, when we got to the party, we found out it wasn't a, you know, masquerade party, after all. It turned out that Doris had misunderstood. We were the only couple who dressed up in costume."

"My goodness."

"We were both very embarrassed and came straight home. Now, Doris won't speak to me at all. She says that I was the one who, you know, misunderstood and caused the problem. But I wasn't. She was the one at fault."

I didn't know what to say, so I tried to change the subject. "Well, to get back to my party, which I am sure is not a masquerade party. I am looking forward to seeing Marcia again."

Bob didn't open his mouth. He just stood there looking off into the middle distance.

"This is my first party with important people –- the world at large."

Bob didn't say anything to me the rest of the day.

At home, I dressed at 6:30 in my best bib and tucker. I wore my checked sport coat and my new pink sport shirt with summer-weight gray flannel slacks and blue suede shoes. No schlock for me; I wear only the best. Although, I do buy it on sale and with my discount.

I waited until I was a fashionable ten minutes late as Bob told me that everyone does. There was a group of people standing around, mostly old geezers and their wives, none of whom I knew but I thought I would introduce myself. Marcia's father wasn't there. Neither was Marcia.

"Hello, Reverend," I said to a member of the clergy, or at least someone wearing his collar on backwards. The fellow looked at me with what I would describe as a slight sneer, not a smile, and, then, he looked around at the others in the group. I guess he just got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.

He turned his back toward me, and he started chatting to a girl in her late twenties who had a very long nose. She was trying to make eye contact with me and everyone passing by.

At last, the tall nervous woman who was apparently running Marcia's party tapped a spoon against a glass. Marcia appeared out of the kitchen and waved to everybody as they quieted down.

For a while, we played several silly games. One of them required us to make a dress by pinning newspapers on a lady. The young man in the backwards collar got to decorate Marcia, and I was paired off with a rather elderly lady who turned out to be deaf as a fence post.

I was kind of nervous because I didn't want to stick her with the pins as I tried to fasten the newspaper around her plump waist.

"Now, don't you be a stick in the mud," she giggled loudly, fiddling with her hearing aid.

I don't consider myself a stuffed shirt, but I had a great deal of trouble getting the paper to fit round her since she was very short as well as stout. At one point, she cried "Ouch" -- when I accidentally stuck her with one of the straight pins. Was my face red! I guess I don't have to tell you that we didn't win.

When we sat down, I was between the elderly deaf lady and another woman in her seventies, who was knitting . Marcia was sitting at the far end of the table still talking to the fellow in the clerical collar.

The meal was served, and it was tasty. There was a salad on a small plate, and, then, a thin slice of chicken served with about a half-cup of rice and a tablespoonful of some kind of green vegetable. Everyone kept saying how delicious everything was, and how it looked so good.

I was astonished when this woman brought out some pots and pans and began passing them around. She was tapping on them and saying, "Uh, it's these, uh, top quality, uh, utensils, um, that were responsible, are responsible."

She stopped, picked up a piece of paper from the table, read it, and then continued, "Responsible for the fresh sealed-in flavor of the vegetables and the rich full flavor of the chicken."

This went on for some time, and, then, she passed around some stubby pencils and some sheets of paper. The ladies next to me began reading the paper industriously, and, when I turned to it, I found it was an order-form for cookware.

Marcia's friend came around to collect them along with checks and cash. I was the only one who hadn't signed up for something. Marcia's friend looked at me strangely. Her hands were trembling.

"Oh, you, uh, must order, uh, something," she said. "Marcia, uh, will get, uh, a special prize, uh, if she gets, uh, one hundred percent participation. Don' t you, uh, want to help Marcia out?"

The lady with the knitting took the paper out of my hand and pointed out something and said, "Don't be so chintzy, Hon. Here. This is a very good buy."

"But, I don't cook," I protested.

"Certainly, there is someone you can give it to."

"My landlady," I said, feebly, although I had never seen Connie cook anything.

So, I signed up for an 8-inch skillet and reached in my pocket for my wallet to get ten dollars. The nervous woman said that if I didn't have it all right now. I could simply give her a deposit of five dollars, which I did.

By this time, Marcia had disappeared into the bathroom, and I slipped out the door. It was then that I remembered that I could give the pan to my mother. Or Jody. Sometimes it is difficult being an individual in a crowd.

_Sunday_ : I must admit I enjoy sleeping late. I got the Sunday paper and I read the comic section. Popeye, the sailor man caught my eye this morning. Later, I met Jody for Sunday brunch and I told her what I was thinking about. "So, I am trying to figure out which is best for me: to act on my own or work in a group. I am using comic book superhero characters as a model."

"Well, I was just going to say, Wonder Woman acted both on her own and as a member of the Justice Society," said Jody.

"Yeah, but I never read _Wonder Woman Comics_. None of the boys I grew up with read _Wonder Woman Comics_ ," said I.

" _Wonder Woman Co_ mics was the only comic book I ever read as a young girl," said Jody. "You know, she has an interesting history. Her other identity was Diana Princess. She had superhuman powers and was able to fight. Also, she had some important tools – the golden lasso, for example. Anyone who it touched had to tell the the truth. And, she wore bracelets from which she could shoot electricity. She also had a tiara that she can throw like a boomerang."

"I'm amazed," I said. "You really do know a lot about Wonder Woman.

"Yes. Wonder Woman was almost as strong as Superman. She can't fly like Superman, but she has an invisible airplane. Also, she can leap across a street from building to building In addition, she has a mental radio which can receive messages from anyone needing her help."

"Wow," I said. "I thought I knew a lot about comics but you know a lot, too."

"Only about one character– Wonder Woman."

"Did you know there were other female superheroes? Like Lois Lane was Superwoman for a few hours, but her super powers wore off. Then there was Mary Marvel, Billy Batson's twin sister who was separated at birth. In one story, they were attacked and the bad guys kept Billy from saying SHAZAM, which would transform him into Captain Marvel . Mary accidentally says SHAZAM and she gets superpowers and beats up the bad guys."

I wasn't sure Jody was listening. Her eyes were glazed over.

"And then there was Sheena of the jungle. And Brenda Starr and..."

"You are making me dizzy..."

So, I stopped and changed the subject. I told her about what I was doing at Josephs and how I wish Miss Rosenstein appreciated my work more.

Jody then said something very nice and very perceptive. She said, "I wish Miss Rosenstein would realize that one person who works with you is worth twelve people who work for you."

I thought a lot about that after I walked her home.

Later, when I got home, I found that Connie had a friend that was visiting her named Mr. Jones, who was telling her how he once sailed on a ship as a ship's carpenter.

"Sure," he said, "I was _chips_ as they call carpenters on the high seas. I went to a hiring hall and got my card and was hired on. Well, the next thing you know, I was on a ship to Europe. The captain turned out to be a very bossy chap who demanded on the first day out that I fasten down all the open nail kegs in the carpenter shop as they expected stormy weather. Well, I had a lot of work to do and I couldn't do it all by myself. See, I thought everybody on the ship was a member of a crew and we were supposed to all work together but nobody wanted to help me."

Connie had stopped puttering around the kitchen and was listening intently.

"Well, sir, with all the repair work they give me to do, I didn't have time to pick up no nail kegs and straighten up the workroom. I figured it were unlikely anything bad could happen because the last chips had left them that way on the previous voyage. But, wouldn't you know it, three days out, the ship ran into a real heavy storm and rocked back and forth in the rolling seas. I, myself, got really seasick and couldn't work at all. I didn't yet have my sea legs as they say."

'And what happened?" asked Connie.

"So, what happened was the storm got so bad that all the open kegs of nails and screws as well as all the unfastened tools and materials wound up in a big heap on the deck or floor. I had to spend the rest of the voyage not doing any of the carpenter work needed on the ship but in trying to sort it all out. And, once again the members of the so-called crew all claimed they were too busy doing their own jobs and couldn't help me. They weren't too busy though that they couldn't come and watch me trying to straighten up the mess. And the Captain came and started cussing me and telling me I was fired.

"Oh, my," said Connie.

"I says to him, I says, 'Well if you think you can talk to me like that you got another think coming. Your so-called crew never offered to help me when I asked. So I quit. Yes sir, I quit right there in the middle of the ocean. Left all the stuff on the floor and him without no chips to do his repairs. Just quit right there I did. Served him right."

"So what did you do, Hon?" asked Connie. "How did you get back?"

"Well, this all happened before we even landed at the port in Germany we was headed for. So, the ship's company made me pay for my own passage back home which ate up all my salary and then some."

"Awful," said Connie. "Well, Hon, that's how big business treats its workers. They just chew you up and spit you out. Poor baby."

What about adding that the only thing you have to lose is your chains? In addition to that thought, I was somewhat taken aback, as they say, by the way Connie and Mr. What's-his-name treated each other. They seemed to be really close. So, while they were looking into each other's eyes, and holding hands, I excused myself and went upstairs to my room.

While I was puzzling over whether I should be a team worker or an individual, I often mulled over the way the choice was delineated by the two old sayings, "Two heads are better than one, or Row your own boat. But when I saw the two old love-bugs acting together downstairs, I thought it should be Four hands are better than two when you row a boat.

Chapter 7 - Satisfaction

July 1953

_Monday_ : Today, something happened that made me feel like a gangster caught counterfeiting tickets to the Policeman's Ball.

While I was feeding my face this AM at Doug's Drugs, (regular coffee and a buttered bagel), and listening to Eddie Fisher singing _Oh Mein Papa_ , I was surprised to hear Jody's voice cutting through everything. "I was just going to say, may I sit down?" She was off of work today, but it turns out that she had come downtown to shop. As usual, she was wearing her white LPN uniform, cap, and pin so that everybody would know she was a Licensed Practical Nurse. Like me, she takes pride in her work.

Then, almost immediately, Steve the stock-boy came in and sat down with us, so she got up and left, since she doesn't like him and always hands him the cold shoulder.

Steve the stock-boy, who was wearing faded dungarees and a T-shirt with the sleeves rolled up, acted as if he could care less and started clowning with the waitresses. Finally, he got up and walked out without saying good bye.

Then Jody came back and sat down. "Before he came in, and I left. I was just going to tell you that I have this wonderful book called _The Robe_. They've made it into a movie. You ought to read it, so when I am finished, I'll let you borrow it. It was made into this great movie which I want to go see."

"OK. What did you buy?"

"No, I'm taking it back. Here, I'll show you. It's a paint-by-the-numbers canvas of The Last Supper, and it includes a gilt frame. I wanted to finish it in time to give my mother for her birthday. But this one is no good. It says _The Last Supper_ on the box, but inside there is something different. Somebody must have switched the original contents with the picture of the dogs playing poker instead."

"It's good you found out before you started painting it," I said. "What if you got it almost finished and then saw what it was turning out to be."

"I was just going to say that. Yes, I am glad I looked as soon as I got it home," Jody said.

"I can't believe that you are going to paint a picture all by yourself."

"I sure am."

"Wow, you sure are talented," I said.

"Well. Thank you," said Jody. "I take pride in my work."

"Did you ever think of drawing cartoons instead of oil painting?"

"No. Actually, I'm, not really much of an artist. I'm just doing paint-by-the- numbers."

"Say, why were you so ticked off at Steve the stock-boy that you got up and left?"

"It's just that he gives me the creeps. He is a wolf in cheap clothing."

"Don't you mean he is a _wolf in sheep's clothing_?"

"No. I mean he is a wolf and he wears cheap clothes. He keeps asking me to go out, and I don't want to go out with someone low class like him."

"He does? Why, he's still wet behind the ears. You are much older than he is."

"Well, I like that," she said.

Then we finished up and left and went our separate ways.

We are having a big sale, now and I expected to be busy all day. A furtive looking little man wearing an old seersucker suit and a straw sailor hat came in the door.

The man came up to me, "I am going to a formal dinner and dance. I want to get what they call a concubine that you wear around your waist."

I almost cracked up but I stifled myself. "You mean a cummerbund," I said.

"No, I think that is what the old Babylonians wrote on their clay tablets."

"That is... uh cuneiform," I said. "I remember from... cuneiform."

"Oh, I beg to differ. I'm sure cuneiform means something that's too heavy to handle."

"I don't think so. That's cumbersome," I said.

"No, that's curmudgeon."

"A curmudgeon is a grouchy person," I said.

"Like you," he said. "You think you're so smart because you work in a fancy store like this. Why don't you get a real job where you have to work for a living?"

By this time, I had pulled a couple of cummerbunds out of stock and put them out before him. "Here is what you want," I said. "I am proud to say that I try to use the right name for everything."

"Concubines," he said. "That's what I said I wanted in the first place. Concubines. I don't want them now. I ain't going to buy them from you. I ain't going to buy nothing from you." And he stomped out the front door.

Both Bob and Roy were busy with other customers, so I didn't say nothing, err, anything to them about it. But I did tell the next customer, a fellow wearing a Indian Madras short sleeve shirt and linen trousers. Judging by the sophisticated clothes he wore, I was sure that he would understand. So, holding the cummerbunds up, I said to him, "I just had a fellow in here that called these concubines."

"That's rich," said the customer." "What are they called?"

"Cummerbunds," I said.

"Cummerbunds," he said. "Well, it takes all kinds."

"Yes, " I said in a jovial mood. "Just like Heinz says."

"Who?" he asked."

"Heinz . 67 varieties. You know, the people who make catsup."

"It's 57 varieties and it's pronounced ketchup," he said.

"OK," I said, knowing when I was beaten. He must have been an English teacher.

"Where's your suit department?" he asked.

I pointed at the stairs. "Upstairs, sir."

He walked off without another word.

Later, I told Connie about the customer calling cummerbunds -- concubines. She said, "Well, if it was me, I would let him call them anything he wanted as long as he bought them."

"Not me," I rejoined. "I take pride in my work. As a professional haberdashery fashion consultant, I am expected to use the proper names for things in dealing with the public and let the chips fall where they may. "By the way," I said, "do you say catsup or ketchup?"

"Neither one," said Connie." I use mustard."

At that, I went upstairs to my room. I was leafing through my course. Success is mine if I improve my vocabulary. I think I now have a better vocabulary than your average high school graduate. I evidenced that today. Mr. Cody says that you can't think without words and that the right words are like the magic words used in the old story about Ali Baba and the forty thieves where he uses the words Open Sesame to gain entrance to the cave where all the jewels are.

_Tuesday_ : Sol feels up to snuff again and is back in the saddle. He came in this morning with a joke about how he met someone whose family is in the iron and steel business: "His mother irons, and his father steals."

We all cracked up at that, and, then, Sol got serious and said, " I want to thank you boys for giving blood when I was in the hospital. You two did me a _mitzvah_. Thank you very much."

Steve the stock-boy answered, "No problem."

I started to say, "He didn't give no blood." But I changed it. "He didn't give any blood. The nurse said he was too young."

However, Sol cut me short and said to me and Steve the stock-boy, "I'm going to invite you two boys over to my house for dinner tomorrow night."

"Well, thank you," I said. "I just know I'm going to eat high on the hog."

"Oh, no," said Sol, "Not at my house, you won't. You won't eat high on the hog at my house." He looked at Bob and Roy who both broke up.

I don't know why they thought that was funny, but I didn't ask. Sol must have meant that his wife isn't a very good cook.

Later, Bob called me over and said quietly, "Don't you know Sol is Jewish? You told him that at his house, you were going to eat high on the hog. Jewish people do not eat pork."

"Yeah, " I said. "So what? I am not prejudiced. I will eat dinner at his house."

But the fact that Bob mentioned Sol's religion got me to thinking and I remembered this, which is, I think, somewhere in _The Bible_ : _If you want to be a success and reach the Promised Land, you have to go through the wilderness_. See, you have to go through hard times which includes hard physical labor, doing without, and being short of money. I thought this quote was great. I told it to Bob.

He said, "Yeah but how about people who hit the lottery or get an inheritance?"

"Well, I said, I guess I need to think about it a little."

But, then, he changed the subject. "Doris and I have gone back together again for the sake of the kid," I didn't know that he was separated.

Well, even later, Doris came in the store when Bob was out, and she began telling me all about their problems. I was ill at ease hearing it from her, since I had already heard it from Bob.

"Bob doesn't spend as much time working on the house as he should," she said.

"Unh hunh," I said.

"So I have to go out and hire somebody to cut the grass."

"Unh hunh."

"And then I had to go out and hire somebody to shingle the roof."

"Yes," I said. "I see. Uh-huh." But I didn't understand why she had to go out to hire somebody. Me, I would just get out the phone book and get on the horn.

Finally, Bob came back from lunch, and he and his missus went outside for a while, and I was alone on the floor, inside. In came Jonathan.

"Where's Roy?" he asked.

"He's upstairs with Miss Rosenstein," I said. "Do you want me to call him?"

"No, I'll just wait," he said. "I'm taking the afternoon off."

Nobody came in the store, so we started chatting, or, rather, Jonathan started chatting. Me, I was just listening.

"You know, I have been having such a time with Roy lately," he said.

"No, " I said. "I did not know that."

"Yes, Roy is so busy with his job here that he just neglects everything else," he said.

"Is that right?" I said.

"Yes," Jonathan said. "Usually, he helps me clean the apartment and everything, but, lately, I have to do everything. All the cooking and everything. Not that I mind."

"Of course," I said.

Fortunately, at this point, the elevator door opened, and Roy and Miss Rosenstein got out. "Oh, Estelle, I just love your poodle cut," said Jonathan, going up to Miss Rosenstein. "You and I will have to go out dancing."

"Now, Jonathan," she said.

"Tell me, fellows, isn't her hair simply gorgeous?"

Roy and I agreed enthusiastically.

Well, then, after work, when I got home, I remembered to tell Connie, my aphorism as they call it: _If you want to succeed and reach the Promised Land, you have to go through the wilderness_.

"Well, everybody knows that," she said. "It's in The Bible."

Then I explained that to reach my Promised Land, I was going to go through the wilderness by having pride in what I do and by increasing my vocabulary.

"If it was that easy, " she said, "I would have done it a long time ago."

_Wednesday_ : I had three exchanges in a row. And to make it worse, I couldn't get customers to exchange their returns for a more expensive item. In fact, in one exchange, the customer wanted to get a less expensive item. I had so turn that one over to Roy and he was unable to do any better than I did and wound up giving the customer a cash refund.

Then there was a long time when no one came in the store. The day was going by and I had not yet broken the ice, which means I did not yet have a sale. By 3:30 a customer came in and made a purchase Well, kind of. He wanted to put a car coat on lay-a-way but he said he only had one dollar to put down on it. I was sure that Roy would not let me do it because layaway meant that the item was taken out of stock and since it was a popular size it might mean that we would lose a sale to someone who could and would pay immediate cash for it.

So, I said, "Sorry, the store won't allow me to put it on lay-a-way for less than 10% down and then you have to pay 10% on it each week. If you miss a payment, they put it back in stock."

"I sure enough do like that coat" he said. "Course, the lining be too heavy but for winter so I don't need to take it now. You understand what I'm saying? That be why I want to layaway. All the other stores takes one dollar down for layaway."

"Sorry, we can't do it," I said.

We went round and round like this for a long time before he walked out saying that I was just turning him down for no reason and calling me a couple of rude names. When Roy returned, I told him what happened and he said I did the right thing. But I still didn't make a single sale all day. Even worse, Bob had a fairly good day.

After work, I went over to Sol's house for dinner. At Bob's suggestion, I brought a bottle of wine, and, soon as I got to Sol's place, I gave him the wine, still in a paper bag.

"Oh," said Sol, looking in the bag. "a bottle of wine. Thank you."

"Yes," said I. "Bob told me that was what you people drink."

"Oh? You people?" said Sol looking funny at his wife."

Then , I recited a short speech that I had copied from one suggested in a booklet, _How to Say It_ to be used in welcoming someone to your home. I changed it somewhat to fit my invitation to Sol's home.

"Dear Sol and family. Needless to say, I have always been enthralled to be your fellow colleague as Professional Men's Fashion Consultant at the elegant and prestigious store named Joseph's. Tonight, I am also most thankful for your very kind and particularly generous invitation to partake in a sumptuous repast in your most humble home. Respectfully, I thank you."

"Humble home, eh?" said Sol, and I know he appreciated my comments.

"Sol, see if your young man should like to wash up before dinner," said his wife.

Sol steered me to the bathroom. The commode covers, the throw rugs on the floor, the drapes and the shower curtain were all very plush. The bathroom air was heavy with the scent of strong disinfectant and even stronger air freshener. The porcelain and chrome fixtures looked absolutely sterile. After running a little water on my hands, I saw the thick, expensive looking towels were too good to dry my hands on. I wiped them on my pants and went back to the dining room.

Sol's wife, who is short and plump and neat as a pin, and her mother who looks exactly like her – same size and shape -- had put the food on the table. To my surprise, since Sol had hinted that she was not a good cook when he said we would not be eating high on the hog, I thought I would show that I would say something nice to her.

"Sol said we weren't eating high on the hog, but I like this better than ham or pork chops." I heard Sol say, "He doesn't know better, Mollie."

"It's too bad your other young man couldn't come," said Sol's missus.

"Oh," I said. "To set the record straight, he didn't donate blood for Sol. Only I did."

"Well, I thank you," said Sol, wiping his mouth with a cloth napkin. "My wife thanks you. My mother-in-law thanks you."

"You're welcome. You sound like James Cagney in Yankee Doodle Dandy."

"What did he said?" asked the mother-in-law.

"Nothing," said Sol.

Later, I asked for milk for my coffee, and Sol's better half looked very upset.

"Oh, he doesn't know about keeping kosher," said Sol. "What do you expect? He's a goy. He's not Jewish."

"Oh," I said, " I know a lot about Jews. I read the _Old Testament_ all the time. Like about your namesake, Solomon who had 500 wives and 500 concubines."

"Sure," said Sol.

"And I want you to know that some of my best friends are Jewish."

How Sol and his wife looked at each other. They were impressed, I'm sure, by my tolerance for all.

I tried to put them at ease by speaking about a current Jewish topic, which my nightly conversations with my landlady Connie had prepared me. So I said, "How about those Rosenbergs, hunh?"

"He doesn't know any better," said Sol, looking at his wife.

"Yes, I do," I said, still trying to be nice.

Well, as soon as dinner was over, I thanked them and said goodbye. Sol saw me to the door. "Shalom," I said to him which means goodbye in Jewish. His wife and mother-in-law seemed to have disappeared.

_Thursday_ : Today, when Sol came into work, he joked, "I asked my mother-in-law what she thought of Red China. She said, 'It should look nice on a green table cloth.'"

Everybody busted out laughing.

"I met Sol's mother in-law," I said. "Last night."

Sol said, "You ought to see that boy eat."

"Oh," I said, "What a great feast. Thank you, Sol and tell your wife she is a great cook."

"I'm sure she won't forget you," said Sol. Then we all went back to work.

Roy told us about his brainstorm for a sales promotion: "For a day, we will wear the latest fad, Bermuda shorts. Take a pair of shorts out of stock and put them on."

I selected a pair of Black Watch Plaid shorts. We all picked out dark colored knee socks as well. It was the first time any of us had worn Bermuda shorts, which have just, become fashionable. In fact, I had never seen anybody but a child wear shorts on the street before.

Well, I felt as embarrassed as a motorcycle rider using training wheels, but when customers came in, our outfits made heads turn. Incidentally, Bob has very skinny legs like Laurence Olivier in the movie , _Henry the V_ , which they made us watch in high school. The movie, not Olivier's legs.

The customers seemed to be highly interested in the shorts because the temperature outside is in the nineties. Most everyone said the same thing, "You guys should be happy to work here because they let you wear shorts to keep cool." Why shouldn't me wear shorts to be cool just as the ladies and the kids do. In many countries it is commonplace. Why do Americans insist on wearing suits and ties in hot weather? After all, it is now commonplace for me to wear short-sleeve dress shirts. Why not short pants?

At lunchtime, I changed into my regular pants to go out to eat because I was too embarrassed to wear Bermuda shorts on the street. However, Bob went out of the store wearing his and got a lot of attention.

Jonathan stopped by and said, "My gracious, you all have such knobby knees." Then, he went over and picked out one of the flashiest pairs of Bermuda shorts in his size. "Roy, put these on your charge," he said.

I must admit I was so self-conscious that I couldn't wait for the day to end, when we got back into our regular clothes and folded up the shorts and the socks and put them back in stock.

When I got home, Connie had a new saying to tell me: If you believe you can or if you believe you can't, you are right either way. Like I told her, I would have to think that one over. Later I came downstairs to tell her I got it.

I bought one of the wackiest comic books I ever saw, which consisted of some very funny drawings by the cartoonist Basil Wolverton. I think he is uproarious. Nobody I know finds him funny but me. Both Bob and Roy said it was just weird. Connie won't bother looking at any comic book or comic strip. All she says is just like my mother – that pile of comics is a fire hazard. And Sol simply looked puzzled after reading a couple pages and said, "I'm sorry I just don't get it. It doesn't make any sense at all to me."

I tried explaining why I think B. Wolverton is a genius at making things humorous. For example, he uses a lot of simple rhymes in his characters' dialog. He has signs here and there in the panels much like _Smokey Stover_ , but Jody says she doesn't like Smokey Stover and doesn't get him either. I am beginning to think that it is like the three stooges films which guys think are hilarious but girls think are stupid.

But very few guys like Wolverton's character Powerhouse Pepper who is a person similar to Popeye. Pepper is a guy dressed in a striped t-shirt and overalls. He fights back whenever anyone insults him. Most of all, the Wolverton characters are goofy looking.

Wolverton drew Lena the Hyena, Lower Slobbovia's ugliest woman, and won Al Capp's contest about a _Li'l Abner_ character who was talked about but unseen. His winning entry was published on the cover of _Life_ magazine about 6 or 7 years ago. It was truly hideous.

Powerhouse Pepper was never in the daily comic strips but he does appear in his own comic books. His fellow characters had exaggerated facial expressions which add to the humor of the story and expand the great appeal of its escapism.

Thus, the ideal platform for Wolverton's talents is in this new comic book called Mad. It is published by a company that published horror comics which I never liked. The new comic book is full of biting satire. It would not do well in a daily strip but as a several page story, it is sheet genius. Wolverton does some of the art but the other artists are quite different from him in their style.

_Friday_ : All day today, people kept asking us, "Why aren't you wearing your Bermuda shorts today?" I didn't realize that we had made such a big hit.

I told Bob another aphorism that I heard: _Success brings poise, especially avoirdupois._

"I don't get it. What is that avoir --or whatever supposed to mean?" he asked.

"Avoirdupois means weight or heaviness of a person."

"Well, ain't you the fancy one using all them fancy long words nobody knows. I still don't understand why you think that's funny."

"OK. It is a joke. It means that success makes you have poise. And it often makes you get fat or gain a lot of weight. Avoirdupois. Which contains the word poise," I said.

"It ain't funny McGee," said Bob, which is a popular saying on the radio.

"OK, well I think it is," I said.

"Look, you keep learning these big words. But ain't nobody told you that it ain't worth nothing if nobody you talk to don't understand them? I mean it's OK if you know the meaning of those big words to comprehend what you are reading or what some egghead is saying. But you can't use them to talk with ordinary people. They won't understand you."

"I guess you are right," I said. "Using big words makes my conversation unintelligible, impenetrable, inexplicable, and incomprehensible."

"What?" said Bob.

"Beyond your understanding," I said, laughing. "I'm joking."

"Yeah," said Bob who then walked away and didn't talk to me until after lunch.

When we got to talk again, I told Bob again I was just joking and he said to forget it.

He said, "You want to hear what some people say about being a success. OK. I will tell you what my old coach told us. In high school. He said that there is no shortcut to success for the secret to success is to never give up."

Since we weren't busy, Roy called Bob and me over to the shirt and tie counter. "Now fellows," he said. "Let's face it. I know that you both take a lot of pride in your work, but I want to go over a bit of information that will help you close some sales. It boils down to what color goes with what color."

"Well," said Bob. "You always say that in ties, you know, almost any color goes with any other color."

"That's true to some extent," said Roy. "However, you have to be careful with mixing browns and blues. For example, in shoes, you always wear black with a blue suit and brown with a brown suit. I know some people are wearing oxblood which is a reddish brown with a navy blue suit."

"How about with light blue or tan or khaki?" asked Bob.

"Well that's the point I want to make. That rule about shoes only applies to dark colors like navy blue and dark brown. With your lighter colors, you can mix them up a bit. But what I wanted to get to was ties and colored shirts. With white shirts you can wear any color tie. With colored shirts, you match your shirt with your suit and then your tie with both. With a blue suit, for example, a blue, gray or pink shirt and a green tie."

"Green?" I asked.

"Sure, " said Roy. "Green and pink go together and green and navy blue go together. Of course, you can also choose the same color family as the suit but green is the number one fashion choice right now." I looked at the tie and shirt shown us and I had to agree.

"Now, you can use those same color combinations with a brown or gray suit as well depending on the color shirt that's chosen and the shade of color in the tie. The point is that Bob is right. Almost any color goes with any other color. It depends more on the shade of the color and the design of the tie. But don't tell your customer that. Let's face it. They are depending on you to help them choose one because they believe you know which is best."

"How about patterned ties with patterned shirts?" asked Bob.

"Good question," said Roy. "We used to say that you should not wear a patterned tie with a patterned shirt and worst of all was to wear them together with a patterned suit. Look in our window and you will see that rule broken all the time by our window trimmer who has a great sense of fashion and what goes with what. Your job is to pull out one tie. If the customer is hesitant over whether he likes a tie or not, then and only then, give him a second choice. If you show him too many ties, he won't be able to choose. Allow him a few, a very few choices and let the customer decide."

Customers were coming in so Roy said, "Go ahead fellows. Knock 'em dead."

I kept busy the rest of the day and I used Roy's sales tip to good avail.

When I got home, I told Connie what Bob's coach's advice about success.

"That's good advice," she said. "He knows what he's talking about. That guy's coach, I mean. Them fellows in sports know what's what.

Then, I went out to see _I, the Jury_ , a 3-D movie. They say that having things flying out into the audience is great. What I think is that it just looks like a bunch of flat cardboard figures in front of painted scenery. They have stereophonic sound, which Jonathan, Roy's friend, calls stereo-PHONY sound. So the whole thing is fake to begin with.

Then, _I, the Jury_ was so complicated and confusing that I was lucky I read the book or it wouldn't have made any sense at all. Also, I think the guy who plays Mike Hammer isn't like Mike Hammer at all. In addition, they even spoiled the best part of the movie where Mike Hammer shoots Charlotte Manning because she is reaching for a gun. I didn't like the movie at all.

Anyways, when I got back to my room, Connie had just finished watching one of the political programs she is crazy about and she couldn't wait to tell me all about some guy named Syngman Rhee, I think his name was, who was begging us to stay in Korea.

"If we do, maybe you'll get drafted," she said, cheerfully.

_Saturday_ : Since today is the last day of our July Sales Days, we were fairly busy all day long. Some of the stock has been around longer than dirt, like they say and I am glad to see it go.

I had several big sales to customers who come in once or twice a year during our sales in order to stock up. Some of those customers are wealthy people who could afford to pay full price, but they want a bargain, or so they say. Incidentally, Bob's nose is out of joint because I had one sale to one customer that was bigger than his total sales for the entire day.

In fact, I only had one annoying thing happen all day. I sold a pink shirt to a woman who asked me to show her a tie to go with it. Like Roy said, I showed her a green tie. "Oh, that's awful," she said. "Green doesn't go with pink."

She finally snatched up a black-and-silver tie, which I admit was a good match.

"Show people that tie with a pink shirt and they'll make you proud to have this job," she said.

After work, I went to hear Stan Kenton and his Artistry in Rhythm Band at a sold-out performance. Roy gave me a ticket that a customer had given him. He said that he was sorry that he didn't have two tickets to give me, but the guy only gave him one. Of course, if he had two, he and Jonathan would have gone, but he couldn't go by himself. So, Jody heard all this and she said she would like to go with me and she would even buy the ticket herself. But, Roy told her even if she could get a ticket she would have to sit by herself far away from me since the ticket was for a front row seat.

Anyways, although I never listened to jazz very much, I have heard Kenton on the radio. For some reason, I was under the impression that the Pied Pipers would appear, but they didn't. So, it must be that they are with another band.

Well, the band played several songs, very loud and brassy. Stan Kenton wore a light gray Italian silk double-breasted suit, a pink, pin collar shirt, and a very narrow striped green tie. He looked like he needed a haircut, and he acted as if he were bored to tears.

"Isn't Stan a gas?" said some very skinny girl sitting next to me, who looked like _Tillie the Toiler_ in the funnies. I kind of smiled and nodded.

The band paused when Stan took the mike and spoke. His eyes looked bloodshot.

"Hey, Stan," came a loud voice. I looked around and recognized a tall, thin guy who is a pharmacist at The Chain Drugstore.

"Stan. Baby. Remember The Meadowbrook?"

Stan winked at his singer. "Yeah, sure. What about it?"

"We saw you there, Stan. In August, 1950. The Meadowbrook. Remember?"

"Oh, yeah, sure," said Kenton, snickering at his band members.

One saxophonist played his instrument so that it sounded like a laugh: "HarDeeHarHar."

Then, Kenton looked away from the pharmacist from The Chain Drugstore and spoke into a microphone;" We have with us tonight, the star of Dennis the Menace Show, Jay..." A dozen people jumped up out of their seats and pushed their way up to the edge of the stage.

A young boy bounced out on the stage, his eyes glassy and distant. His hair was long and so blond, it was almost white. What a different life he must lead, I thought. I would give an arm and a leg to be like him. He was perfectly poised in front of the microphone telling everyone in his boyish voice to come and see him.

"I'll see you, tomorrow," he shouted, and the crowd shouted back "Den-nis," and he was gone. Band members picked up their instruments, except for the piano player, of course, and immediately began loudly playing what sounded like HONK BLAH HONK.

The band continued that noise which made up part of one of its most famous hits as evidenced by the response of the audience cheering and clapping. So that I wouldn't appear ignorant of modern jazz to those around me, I joined in although I didn't know what the ruckus was all about.

However, after the show ended, several songs later, I admit that I really felt a part of show business, having seen Stan Kenton and his Artistry in Rhythm Orchestra and a famous television star, Jay North, in person. In fact, I would go so far as to say I even felt a certain kinship with them in that we both work to please the public.

When I went home, Connie was not in sight, so I went right up to my room and turned the radio on. I reread a few pages of my paperback copy of _I, the Jury_ and thought again of how I would play Mike Hammer in the movies if Hollywood discovered me.

I heard Connie come up the steps and she stood in my open doorway, and stared telling me something about what happened. in Congress today.

Afterwards, I finished my 15 minutes with my Sherwin Cody English course. Next, I read my Mickey Spillane novel. In the whole world, I believe that Mike Hammer is the greatest character ever created in fiction since the beginning of time. I know that I could play him in any movies they choose to make about him from Spillane's books, if they asked me and I would make him truly come to life. Thus, I spent the rest of the evening reading great literature by Mickey Spillane.

_Sunday_ : I read the funny pages in the Sunday paper. Joe Palooka's manger Knobby Walsh, his girlfriend Ann Howe, and some other characters, are lovable However, almost everybody admires Joe Palooka most of them all because he is honest and trustworthy and a gentleman. In many ways he is my idol.

Although I am usually off on Sunday, today, Mr. Florence, the window trimmer, is here to change the window display. Mr. Florence comes every couple of months and makes a complete change of the window.

Whatever he puts in the window always sells out. He spends Saturdays, as he did yesterday, picking out the merchandise with Miss Rosenstein and Roy and Sol and then has it pressed up, so that he can change the window on Sunday. We come in and help him by picking up stuff and handing it to him and things like that.

Mr. Florence is always elegantly dressed, and he never works up a sweat as he arranges the clothing in the window, no matter what the temperature is.

Jonathan, Roy's friend came in several times and kept asking, "Roy, when will you be finished? We have some place to go."

We got to talk, and Jonathan asked me, "Do you like show tunes?"

I answered, truthfully, "No, I could care less about them."

"No. What you should say is 'I couldn't care less about them," said Jonathan. "Otherwise, it doesn't make sense."

"OK," I said and thought about what he said. After that exchange, we had little left to talk about.

I heard Jonathan say to Roy, under his breath, "Roy, we really have to go. You are always doing this to me. Nobody else would put up with it."

He and Roy had an animated talk in the shoe department. Shortly thereafter, he and Roy left.

Usually, we send Steve the stock-boy out to get something to eat, but, today, I went out and got some hot dogs at the Short Stop, which is over near the train station. Mr. Florence looked funny when I handed a hot dog to him.

He said, "I guess I can eat a hot dog just this once."

"Oh," I said. "Don't you like them?"

"No, it's just that they are pork, and I can't eat pork."

"Oh," I asked "Why? Are you allergic?"

"No. It's just that we Jews aren't allowed to eat pork."

"Oh," I said. "I didn't know that."

"That we don't eat pork?"

"No," I said. "I didn't know that you were Jewish. You don't look Jewish."

Mr. Florence looked startled, and I knew that I must have made a very perceptive remark.

After Mr. Florence finished decorating the window, we all walked outside and examined his handiwork. It has turned out to be the greatest selling tool we have, as Roy has said.

Then we straightened up the place a bit and went home.

Connie was busy ironing and I was able to get right up to my room. I rearranged the growing piles of comics, thumbing through a few of my favorites.

Batman reminds me in many ways of the Phantom, the ghost who walks. They are both human, not possessive of special superhuman powers. Batman has a genius IQ, and he is very athletic, and he is expert in combat skills, and a superior sleuth. He is fabulously wealthy.

In contrast to Superman, he is not made of steel and cannot fly and is not invincible. He meets success, not with a gun, but with the skills he has developed and with the use of high technology such as the Bat mobile, and his Bat utility belt, which contains all sorts of devices such as a cable and grappling hook, used to climb high buildings. So, what does this prove? If you do not have all the equipment you require to be a success, you have to get them or find a substitute to bring you up to speed.

I am fascinated by the comics even though now I usually read only the daily newspaper strips. The reason is that I want to be a success. Improving my ability to communicate is the best way I can see to become a success. Not only do I want to improve my vocabulary but I want to improve myself in every way, like Batman.

So, I came downstairs and said to Connie, "You know what I decided to do? I am going to use famous sayings as a guide to do the right thing, like you do. For example, I will hitch my wagon to a star although sometimes I am afraid that I may literally bite off more than I can chew."

"You know what I say? Good!" Connie replied: "Do what they say: If at first you don't succeed, try a game!"

Chapter 8 - Resolve

August 1953

_Monday_ : "They got me running around like a chicken with its lips cut off." For a long time, I have wanted to visit New York City. I decided to get here by Interstate Bus. I had to walk from the bus station to the YMCA where I was staying, but a cop pointed me in the wrong direction and I went blocks out of my way causing me a big problem. But one of my many admirable characteristics is that I am a problem solver. So, by careful analysis, I figured out that I was going the wrong way.

The streets in New York City are busier than those back home, and I think it is all very exciting. Of course, there are many hotels that I could have stayed at, but the YMCA was the cheapest and so I registered at the desk.

Everyone has to live somewhere, of course. That seems to me to be a very observant remark, that I should write down and send off to one of those books that list collections of great thoughts and famous quotations. Yes, some people live in house trailers, and some like Miss Rosenstein live in fancy mansions. But, everybody has to live somewhere. Except the homeless, of course. But I guess you can say they live wherever they are. Me? While I am in New York City, I will live at the YMCA in a room where there isn't space enough to swing a cat.

As soon as I rented the room at the YMCA and came back out on the street, I felt starved, so I dashed across 33rd Street to a little place to eat where twenty-four hours a day they served you bacon and eggs fried in a pan right in front of you and which you eat right out of that pan. I never saw anything like it . Since I thought I might eat there again, I was careful to leave a generous 15 percent tip so they would know I was a sport and remember me next time.

Afterwards, I walked up Eighth Avenue to 42nd Street and then over to Broadway. At last I stood in world famous Times Square. I looked at people walking by carefully, expecting to see Walter Winchell or some movie star come by any minute.

Instead, a rather strange-looking gentleman wearing a long sleeve burgundy gabardine sport shirt and chino trousers began staring at me and then came over to speak with me although I didn't know him from Adam. The noise in the street was tremendous. "Hello, my friend," he said.

I was surprised that someone recognized me here in this big city. But, as I have said before, although I may not know them, many people know me because of my position at Joseph's Men's Store, which is also well known. I am used to this, and it may even be that this fellow was from back home or at least, as a traveler, had shopped at Joseph's and I had waited on him.

"Hello, sir," I said, pausing there on the sidewalk. Everybody was rushing by at a very fast pace, barely dodging the two of us..

"My dear sir, can I speak with you for a moment? I haven't had any food for three days, " he said. "I'm down on my luck. Can you help me out?"

When he said that, I felt it was unlikely sure that we have never met, and that I do not know him because he did not call me by name or mention the store. Too, as I looked more closely at the way he was dressed, I realized that his shoddy, even threadbare clothes never came from Joseph's. But I felt sorry for him, having to come up to strangers on the street and ask for money so he could eat. So, out of the kindness of my heart, I gave him some change, and he thanked me profusely.

"Thank you kindly good sir. May God bless you."

I felt good as I always do when I help out my fellow man.

Then, leaving him behind, I stepped inside a little restaurant they have there which is the home of The World's Most Famous Spaghetti. There was a sign over the door stating that fact. Apparently, people come from all over to eat there including many famous people. There were autographed 8 ½ by 11 black-and-white photographs of movie stars and singers hanging on the wall. I looked around carefully at the people eating at the tables and counter, but I didn't see any famous faces at the moment.

I ordered from the menu on a board over the counter and for a moment, I thought maybe I should have asked the man in the gabardine shirt to come in to eat with me since he was so hungry.

Then I started to eat, and I was surprised to find that The World's Most Famous Spaghetti was cold and very salty. Perhaps the gourmets who really know what makes the best spaghetti prefer this preparation and I shall have to adjust my tastes accordingly.

While I was waiting for dessert, I overheard some of the people at a table near the counter where I was seated arguing loudly about professional wrestling on television, and Gorgeous George as they called one star, in particular. This rassler as they termed him is apparently a great big fancy fellow who comes out and sprays perfume in the ring. Suddenly it occurred to me that, sometimes, he even eats here. Thus, even though there were no celebrities in the room at the moment I was there, they still spoke of them.

When I came outside, the same fellow in the gabardine shirt came up to me again and started saying, "My dear sir, can I speak to you for a moment? I haven't had any food for three days..."

"Well," I said, "I just gave you some money. Why didn't you go and get something to eat?" To my surprise, he just turned away without another word and walked over to some other person and asked them.

However, the streets were busy and interesting to see, so I decided to walk around a bit, and I strolled up Broadway to 50th street and then back down to 42nd Street. By this time I was exhausted so I decided to go back to the YMCA on 34th Street and go up to my room and sleep. I did so although the crowds dwindled after I got onto 8th Ave. There, several drunken revelers created quite a scene, blocking the sidewalk for us normal serious pedestrians who had to dodge around them.

_Tuesday_ : Today, I slept late until about 11:00 AM. Then, after eating lunch, I wandered around the streets a bit. I didn't go to the movies. I got a newspaper and sat on a bench in a tiny park to see how Dick Tracy was doing.

A fellow about my age but rather carelessly dressed came up to me and said, "You know, I just got out of jail, Jack, and I'm looking for some action."

Although I didn't understand why he thought I knew that, or why he thought my name was Jack, I answered courteously and cheerfully," Well, this is the place for it."

"What do you mean by that?" he said.

"I mean it's New York."

"I know it's New York. What do you think I am, stupid? Tell me, Jack, do I look like I am stupid to you?"

"Oh, no," I said. "Not in the least. And my name isn't Jack."

"Look, Jack, can you borrow me five dollars so I could go to a job interview?"

I answered, truthfully, "Sorry. But I am a bit short myself."

Apparently he didn't like my answer because he stopped calling me Jack and started calling me vulgar names, so I got up and left.

I walked all the way back up to 42nd Street, and, over to Broadway. Sure enough, the same guy in the long-sleeved gabardine shirt came up to me again and said, "My dear sir, may I speak with you for a moment? I haven't had any food for three days." At this point, I interrupted him to say, "You asked me yesterday. Don't you remember? That was yesterday so you can't say you didn't eat for three days." He just turned away without answering me and walked up to another person walking nearby. I was shocked, absolutely shocked at his impertinence.

Trying to avoid him, I stepped into a place called Hubert's Flea Circus. Downstairs, I was fascinated by the man behind the counter who had the tiny bugs do different tricks, like pulling a tiny cart, and climbing on a minute swing. I leaned forward for a closer look and he snapped, "Watch your breath, Bud." So, I moved back, and chewed a chlorophyll tablet, which I had fortunately to cover my bad breath.

Then, after the show ended, I went over to a place called The Palace where they have vaudeville acts on stage in addition to a movie. One was an elderly magician called Anand the Magnificent. I imagine that he adapted his old magic act from his days of traveling the old vaudeville houses. n fact, he may even know Sol back home. Anyways, his act was something to see. He came on stage with the thunder of drums and a clash of cymbals. A spotlight followed him.

He was magnificent looking man, tall, a bit heavy-set, wearing about a size 44 or 46 shiny tuxedo. His hair was curly, silvered at the temples, which made him look a lot like a fat Jeff Chandler, the movie actor. His voice rumbled like thunder when he spoke.

He would say, "Presto," and, poof, he would pull what looked like a giant jewel out of thin air.

On the stage with the magician was a young female who looked like Debbie Reynolds, the movie star. She called out, "Jasper and sapphire and emerald." naming the jewels as he made them appear,

I watched open-mouthed as the magician pulled the jewels one after the other out of thin air and piled them one on top of the stand as she spoke. The audience applauded politely. I couldn't believe my eyes. Those jewels looked real. As he proceeded, I began to try to figure out how he did it and I couldn't come up with the answer.

Back out on the street, the number of police and police cars that I saw fascinated me. It made me think of Dick Tracy. In the early years of the strip, I understand that Tracy was in uniform but in the years in which I have been reading the strip he was a plainclothesman. I know a lot about policemen having read Dick Tracy as long as I have. The New York police were apparently not as up-to-date as Tracy's men. I didn't see any signs of the equipment that Tracy used.

Then, what do I see but a crowd standing outside a store and a police car. When I came close, I saw two policemen putting a young hoodlum in handcuffs and wrestling him into the back seat of the police car. What surprised me the most was that the people in the crowd were applauding as if they were watching the final scene in a movie or a play. I heard people in the crowd shouting stuff at the perpetrator.

"All Right! Toss that thug in the slammer and throw away the key!"

"Hey punk! Enjoy your stay at Riker's Island!"

"Atta boy officers. Scrape this scum off our streets!"

After the police car drove off and the crowd dispersed, I went back to midtown to catch the last daily showing of This is Cinerama. I sat up in the balcony where back home the colored people sit. In New York City, anyone could sit there. The seats were cheaper there. The balcony was very steep to begin with and some of the screen effects simply made you feel as if you were riding on a toboggan down a hill or on a roller coaster. Some women in the balcony were squealing and shrieking with fright at the realism. Not me, though. I think I handled it very well. If anyone back home asks me, I would rate Cinerama right up there although there wasn't any story to catch your attention in this one. Then, I went back to my room at the YMCA to sleep.

_Wednesday_ _:_ Today, I was very hungry so I purchased a hot dog from a cart out in front of some discount stores and then caught a bus downtown.

That's how I wound up in Greenwich Village where I strolled around the streets looking at the Bohemians as they are called. There were a lot of those people on the streets, and I walked about with the strange feeling that they were looking at me. So, I ducked into some bookstores, which I soon found out were almost all strictly for eggheads.

So, I went out on the street and saw a bunch of Bohemians dressed in weird outfits so unusual that you were not so sure whether they were men or women. Some of them were laughing and calling out to each other in some kind of strange language, like that used by one of them who came right up to me and said , "Hey, Daddio, can you front me some bread?"

I wasn't sure what he or she was talking about so I just shook my head and said, "No."

To which the person uttered, "Man I thought you was hip. Later for you, Jack." and walked away.

I don't know why he or she thought my name as Jack. Back home they would say people like that were bats in the belfry. Finally, I went for bite to eat in a small coffee shop which was very dark and crowded and also, as I found out, expensive. They literally charged me an arm and a leg for a stale doughnut.

There was a crowd of people around a bookstore so I went over to see what was going on. The signs outside read: Pierre Gaston, Insult Poet Extraordinaire to read today.

Inside there was some weird looking guy wearing a dark blue beret and a striped T-shirt. He was standing in front of a mike and reading from a book. It turned out that he was a French poet making a personal appearance tour in the US of A to sell his latest book, _Les Cinq Lettres_.

The people standing around listening apparently all spoke French because they laughed and cheered at each of poems, but they were all Greek to me. Then, someone from the store started passing out a sheet of paper containing one of his poems printed in French.

Les Oies

Les Boches sont dingues.

Les Ritals sont loufoques.

Les Biftecks sont zinzins.

Les Crouilles sont mabouls.

Moi? J'en ai ras le bol.

"What does that mean?" some female near me said to her boyfriend. He translated it for her and I listened in.

The Jerks

The Krauts are crazy.

The Wops are cracked.

The Limeys are bonkers.

The North African Arabs are nuts.

Me? I'm fed up.

Well, it just goes to prove that people are the same all over the world. Like I always say: _everybody always hates somebody_.

Somehow, I got over to Chinatown and walked up Mott Street. Well, sir, let me tell you. It was like being in another country. People dressed very strangely and speaking some gobbledygook scurried up and down the very crowded streets. There were all kinds of odd looking things in the windows of the restaurants like roasted birds coated with what looked like caramel and. even the phone booths were built like little pagodas.

In fact, it was just like Terry and the Pirates had come to life. The stores were mostly restaurants. There were some street stands selling a whole pig on a spit which was being barbecued right there out in the open. A few windows had cooked ducks hanging from a stainless steel rod and others allowed you to see barbecued pork being sliced for customers. Some people were dressed in oriental clothing, wearing blue Mao jackets. But most everyone dressed in western styles. The streets were narrow and winding except for two main streets which had cars double-parked and triple-parked in many spots. The smell of the many restaurants mingled with other smells in the air. As I walked by the theaters and the shops selling Chinese records, the music sounded strange to my ears. The whole area seemed to be more colorful than the other areas of New York.

After wandering around a good while, I asked directions from several people who not only didn't understand what I was saying but persisted in speaking in a language that I couldn't understand.

"Where is the Uptown Subway?" I said clearly and distinctly.

"Oh, yes," said one with a big smile.

"The subway?" I asked again.

"Yes. OK. Thank you," he said.

"To go uptown?" I asked.

"Yes. Yes. Goh. Up. Towel," he said.

"I even shouted at him, thinking that would make him understand, but it didn't help. Instead, looking frightened, he darted into the crowd and disappeared.

I finally found the uptown subway on my own and consequently got back to Times Square. my supper, and my YMCA room. After resting for a while, I went back to Times Square again and walked around for a long time sightseeing before going back to the YMCA.

_Thursday_ : This morning, I thought about inquiring about employment in case I might want to come to live here. So, I went to the third floor of a building off Times Square to an employment agency. It was packed with men standing in lines. I didn't want to waste my time so, acting bold and pushy like I see everybody else doing in New York City, I elbowed my way into the office and asked the man at the desk, "Do you have selling jobs?"

"Sewing jobs?" he said with a sneer.

"No. Selling jobs. Salesman jobs," I said.

"I dunno," he said. "Just get in line and wait your turn."

I decided not to wait. After all, I was on vacation and I didn't want to spend it standing in line looking for work. Especially, since I already have a job.

So, then, I took a cab to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I was fascinated by the room where they had the knights in armor. I was surprised to see that the knights were small in stature . Most suits of armor appeared to be rather small, about size 40. However, there was one suit of armor made for some guy called Henry the Eighth which was about a size 46.

I walked up the marble stairs to the rooms where they had the paintings and after viewing a lot of boring religious pictures got to the room where they have the French Impressionists. I was particularly taken by a painting called A Starry Night by Van Gogh.

Since I did not see any pictures by comic strip artists such as Al Capp or Milton Caniff, I asked a guard where they were located. He just looked at me in a strange way.

Then, he said, "Are you nuts? This is a museum of fine art. Why would we have junk like comic book artists in here? I never heard anything so stupid!"

Well, I didn't think it was such a stupid question or I wouldn't have asked it. But I literally held my tongue, and I just walked away. It's too bad people in New York City enjoy being so rude and unpleasant. That's no solution when a person asks for information. But then, I decided not to think about it anymore and spoil my vacation.

I ate in the cafeteria they have on the main floor next to a indoor pool and then went outside. I waited for a downtown bus in front of the museum on Fifth Avenue. For a bit, I thought it was strange how tired I felt after looking at all those pictures, but then I realized that I had been walking around and standing all the time I was in the museum. So I decided that I should do something where I would sit down and relax for awhile.

That's why I went to see a real live Broadway Play, the first play I have ever seen, except for Here Comes Charlie, our senior class play, of course, which I am proud to say I was in.

I got the cheapest seat I could which was standing room only. The play was Bus Stop, a terrific play about a woman at a bus stop café. Although I had not heard of the actors and actresses who were in it, apparently they are well known on Broadway. I was so far back that I couldn't make out the stars' faces so it may be that I actually may have seen them in movies. However, everybody knows movie stars are more famous than theater stars.

Although I was really tired of standing up during the play, I actually took another long walk on Broadway since this is a city that never sleeps as they say. I walked past Jack Dempsey's and read the menu in the window but I didn't go in because it was too high class for my tastes. Later, I walked by Toots Shors and The Stork Club hoping to catch a glimpse of Walter Winchell or some one else who is famous, but no one was around and I couldn't bring myself to go in, since I wasn't wearing a tuxedo or anything.

I walked past the movies on 42nd streets and that same guy in the gabardine shirt came up to me and said, "My dear sir, may I speak to you for a moment. I haven't had any food for three days." And then I said, "You asked me that yesterday." He left me.

On the corner of 42nd Street and 8th Avenue, there was a crowd of people. There was a man who was dressed up like a priest. Or maybe he was a priest. He stood ranting surrounded by a pack of intense faced followers also dressed in black. He was waving his arms, shouting, "Despise the Jews – they hate our beloved Christ. Curse the protestants, they hate our Virgin Mary." His followers nodded their assent, their faces glowing in the flickering neon light of a nearby novelty shop, chanting with him probably till the cows come home. Once again, I thought, somebody hates everybody.

So, I just walked away and went in some bookstores and because I was very tired, I went back towards the YMCA. Ignoring the fact that adults read comic strips and kids read comic books, I went into a little store where I made a selection of comic books. I had a hard time choosing between the superheroes: Superman, Batman and Robin, Captain America, Blackhawk, Aquaman, Green Arrow, Plastic Man, Captain Marvel. I admit I avoided the super woman comics as I always do – Fantomah, Cat woman, and Wonder Woman. I just don't enjoy them,

Finally armed with a half dozen comic books, I made my way back to my room. I spent the rest of the day reading them. Next to Batman and Captain Marvel, Superman, the Man of Steel is probably my favorite. I can hear him shouting, "This looks like a job for Superman!" and then, " Up, up and away!" along with Perry White saying, " Great Caesar's Ghost!" to Clark Kent's "Great Scott!" Then Billy Batson saying "SHAZAM" and turning into Captain Marvel to fight the evil scientist Dr Sylvania. Next was Batman and Robin. And so on.

_Friday_ : It had rained so hard last night that this morning that everything was wet, and I had no raincoat or umbrella.

Water sloshed in my shoes, and I stepped out of one of them. as I crossed the street. Hopping on one foot, I fished my shoe out of the puddle and poured the water out, while a cab blasted its horn and edged forward into a puddle, almost hitting me, and splashing me from head to foot with dirty water.

I fell forward and landed on one knee in another puddle. I jumped up and, still hopping, got the shoe on. I stepped up on the curb and stood back as a bus pulled up. A crowd of people pushed by me, getting into the bus. Being polite, I let them go. I finally got to the door just as they were closing it. I went in dripping water, paid my fare and stood in the aisle. Water ran down my face. My knee was covered with mud.

"You need an umbrella, Bud," said a toothless elderly man in a clear plastic rain coat under which he was wearing a white broadcloth dress shirt. "This boy needs an umbrella," he said to the rest of the people on the bus who paid no attention to him whatever. He repeated himself several more times.

Finally, I saw Macy's and got off the bus. I went to an Orange Julius stand and got a drink in a large paper cup. I drank some of it and then carried the cup with me as I walked up the street. A few feet away I stood under an awning and looked around to get my bearings. Some man walking by stopped and tried to drop some coins into my cup, but I stopped him. "Poor fellow, down on his luck, but too proud to take a handout," I heard him mutter as he strolled away.

I didn't think I looked like a bum, but I poured the rest of my Orange Julius into the street looking around for the police to make sure I wasn't arrested for so doing. So, then I went across the street into Macy's and found the Men's Room and cleaned up. Then, I made my way to Macy's haberdashery department to look around at the big time competition. They had lots of merchandise everywhere, but all the salespeople ignored me. Then, I realized that I didn't look very tidy and thus appeared less likely a prospective customer than the hordes of people streaming by.

I decided that I better change my clothes. When I left the store, my clothes still had not dried out. They felt clammy, and, in addition, I felt that I was catching a cold. But, I walked back to Times Square. I had no sooner reached the store on the corner of Broadway and 42nd Street than that guy in the maroon gabardine shirt came up and said, "My dear sir, may I speak with you..." I just walked away from him as fast as I could without uttering a word.

I went back to my room at the YMCA, washed up in the communal bathroom and changed to dry clothes. At that point in time, I decided to treat myself to what they call an egg cream that I had seen advertised in the windows of stores on Times Square. I finally selected a store and bought an egg cream, which turned out to be a mixture of chocolate milk and soda-water. The next thing I knew, I upset it all over the front of my new chino pants.

This made a huge dark wet spot in my lap running down my trouser leg. When I walked out on the sidewalk, a bunch of young kids standing by the curb kept pointing at my pants and laughing. They even followed me part the way down the block.

I went back to my room at the YMCA and changed pants and I went out again back to 42nd Street and went into one of the many movie houses side-by-side on 42nd Street all of which advertised themselves as being air-cooled with pictures of igloos and polar bears. I noticed the admission price seemed to change every hour.

Anyways, I went in to see a triple feature: _Frankenstein_ , _The Bat_ , and _Dracula_ , which are all your classic scary movies. The theater was freezing cold inside Also, they don't turn the lights down as dark as they do in the movies back home. You could see everybody in the audience and what they were doing. One gentleman, a hulking untidy character who reminded me of Rondo Hatton, the movie actor, was walking up and down the aisles, shaking a fist and making comments about some of the patrons including me although I chose to ignore him and focus on the screen.

The movie _Frankenstein_ was great as usual for I have seen it before. At the intermission between movies, the lights came up very bright and a couple of guys in maroon jackets, as alike as two peas in a pod, walked up and down the aisles selling candy by holding up a box and shouting to get your candy corn here. I purchased a box and was surprised that it cost as much as the admission to the movie. Furthermore, the candy corn inside tasted a bit stale to me.

The second picture, _The Bat_ was rather dull as it usually is and my mind wandered. So did the Rondo Hatton look-alike, who prowled the aisles again, sometimes shouting at the screen and drowning out the scratchy sound track.

Finally, _Dracula_ was on the screen. Right at the part where Bela Lugosi, the movie actor says, "Listen to them, Children of the night. What music they make" there was a ruckus behind me. I turned to see the twins in the maroon jackets shoving the Rondo Hatton guy out an emergency exit door. They slammed it shut and some people in the audience actually applauded as the guy outside kicked at the door. I don't know whether they were clapping for him or for the two fellows who pushed him outside. Anyways, then, we all turned back to watching the motion picture until _Dracula_ ended and the first movie began again. When it got to the part where I came in, I slipped out, thinking that I would go back to my room to take a snooze.

_Saturday_ : I took the bus home in the morning. The bus was very crowded, and I had to sit over a wheel-well. I had moved over to be polite and a young man who looked like Moon Mullins in the funny papers sat down.

Next thing, he started telling me "See. I just came back from the coast and now they called me back. I just finished a picture there at 20th Century Fox. It's not the biggest role I ever had but it will be one that they remember me by. Why the director told me and this is off the record of course, but I might well be up for a Best Supporting Actor Oscar. It's not the first one that I was up for, but the last time, I got cheated out of it by some dirty politics that I don't want to go into right now. I am going back now because they got a couple of scenes they want to re-shoot and need me for them because I am in them. Say, you don't have a spare cigarette on you do you?"

"Sorry," I said. "I don't smoke."

"Gave it up did you? I should too. Anyway like I say, I left Hollywood to do some stage work in the Big Apple as we on the Coast call it. Well, I no sooner got here then Orson calls me."

"Orson? Orson Welles?" I asked. "Do you know Orson Welles?"

"Oh sure . He's the director of my picture. Why we are just like that. When I get there, he wanted topick me up at the station. But, I told him never mind because Barbara Stanwyck already asked if she could pick me up me because I am going to stay at her house. See, I sub-let my place in Beverly Hills for six months because I thought I would be in New York."

He went on like this all the way back home, giving me the names of all the movie stars who were his close personal friends As we neared the bus terminal back home, he said, "Oh no! I left my wallet back in New York. Would you be kind enough to help me out? I need a few dollars. I will send it back to you as soon as I arrive in Hollywood. I need, uh, could I possibly borrow $20 or so?"

"Sorry, " I said, "But, I'm broke myself."

He continued even after we got off the bus at the terminal. "Well, how about $10? Could see your way to giving me $5?"

I had a real hard time getting away from him. I only had $2 left and I finally gave him $1 "Don't worry. I'll be sure to send it back," he said. Then he said he was going to the men's room and would be right back to catch his bus for The Coast. I finally got away and walked home stopping every so often to rest because my suitcase was heavy.

Then, no sooner had I got in the door than Connie started to tell me all the news I had ,missed while I was gone. It was mostly about McCarthy, Joseph, not Charlie, who was investigating the government printing office or something for spies, and much more that I didn't hear because my mind was on something else.

Connie said that she had gone out and got the papers and saved them for me, and I could catch up on Winchell's column and read _Dick Tracy_ and the other comic strips that I follow. So, I took the papers up to my room with me.

I know a lot about Tracy. He has always been one of my favorite comic strip characters. Dick Tracy's first partner was Pat Patton and his second partner was Sam Ketchum. Tess Trueheart was his girlfriend and later his wife and he had a ward, Junior. He also had as friends such characters as Diet Smith whose son Brilliant was the inventor of the two way wrist radio . Another unforgettable character was Vitamin Flintheart who was always popping pills.

But the main reason that I enjoyed reading the strip were the bizarre criminals that Tracy battled against. Dick Tracy always is fighting strange criminals such as Flattop whose head is actually flat on top, The Brow who was electrocuted when he tried to kill Tracy., The Claw, a murderer, Crewey Lou, a female photographer with strange hairstyle who kidnapped Bonnie Braids , daughter of Dick Tracy and his wife Tess, and who fell to her death while being chased by Tracy. Other criminals included Pruneface, who was disfigured in a fire, and married to Mrs. Pruneface to whom the same thing had happened.

There were hundreds more like Canhead, Mousey, Blowtop, Sphinx, and Shakey. Most of these bad guys were independent crooks although some organized crime figures appeared such as Mr. Crime. It seemed to me that if I were Tracy, I would just arrest any ugly person on suspicion because they almost always turned out to be criminals.

Sometimes, however, in the strip, there are criminal whom Tracy convinces to go straight. The most famous example is the extremely weird and ugly couple, B. O. Plenty and Gravel Gertie who married and had a beautiful daughter Sparkle Plenty.

The comic strip is very dramatic in that Tracy uses gadgets, such as the wrist radio, as well as reason and science to hunt down criminals who are often punished by trying to escape and in so doing meet their death. However, as I understand it, in real life, most crimes are not solved by sleuthing but by informers. Although it makes for more interesting reading or viewing, for the detective to use Sherlock Holmes reasoning techniques to determine the perpetrator -- A snitch in crime saves time.

Since I am beginning to see myself as a problem solver, it is only natural that I would be interested in such heroic figures as the detectives Dick Tracy and Mike Hammer. They are not superheroes with special powers but human beings who have developed human skills to the utmost.

Connie interrupted me to come down to answer the phone. "Now, please make it short," she said. "I'm expecting a long distance call."

It was Jody. She asked me how I enjoyed my vacation and did I miss her and did I send her a postcard as I promised, and so on and so on and so forth.

At length, feeling very sophisticated after visiting the big town, I said to her, "Well, as Billie Burke says in _The Wizard of Oz_ , 'There's no place like home.'"

"Billie Burke?" Jody asked. "Who's he?"

Since Connie was pointing to the clock, I said, "I will tell you when I see you. Gotta run. 'Bye."

_Sunday_ : It's inventory time, so I had to go back to the store today at 12:00 to take inventory which means to count all the stuff we have in stock.

In the morning, I read the Sunday funny papers. For instance, you have the _Katzenjammer Kids_ , where in every strip Hans and Fritz pull dirty tricks on the grown-ups and then get spanked by Mama, or her friend, the Captain.

Then there is _Gasoline Alley_ , the only strip where people don't always stay the same age but grow older. In it there are Walt Wallett, a car nut, his wife, Phyllis Blossom Wallett, his adopted son Skeezix, and natural son, Corky.

OK, then we got _Oaky Doaks_ , a strip about Oaky Doaks, the teenage farm boy who makes himself into a knight, and Nellie, his horse. They go around fighting villains and rescuing damsels in distress.

At that point, I suddenly realized that what I was doing was taking inventory of the characters in the funny papers, so I quit. It was enough I was taking inventory of the store today.

So, like Roy had told me, I went in at noon and we worked for about four hours, and, then, since the store was paying for us, we all went to eat at Magaro's, a fine dining restaurant where as soon as we sat down, Sol cracked a joke: " When a hillbilly couple gets a divorce, are they still considered brother and sister?"

Even Steve the stock-boy laughed at that although I think he originally came from someplace where they have hillbillies.

Since the store was paying for it, everybody could order what they wanted. Of course, Steve the stock-boy showed how ignorant he was of the finer points of life by ordering neutrons to go with his salad when he meant croutons and asked for his porterhouse steak to be very well done when most of the staff wanted theirs rare or medium rare. Well, he doesn't know anybetter. When the waitress came, to me, I ordered lobster. It was the first time I had ever eaten lobster, so I wasn't sure how to eat it, and the others at the table had to tell me what to do. I really enjoyed dipping the white chunks of lobster meat into the melted butter and eating the garlic bread and salad. Like I say, Joseph's paid for everything.

"This dinner gives us employees a good chance to schmooze," said Sol, and we did. At the end of the meal, Bob, Roy, Sol, and Steve the stock-boy each lit a cigar. I didn't enjoy the smell very much, but I went along with it.

Bob got to talking about how he liked working at Joseph's," he said, "You know, I worked in an office before I came to Joseph's. You don't know how much I enjoy talking to the customers and working with my fellow employees. When I worked in the office, we just had to stay in our own little cuticles."

"Cubicles. You mean cubicles," Roy interrupted. "Cuticles are the things on your finger nails."

"Well, we never referred to them as cubicles. We always called them there little offices, cuticles," said Bob and he went on and on about how working in a cuticle was like each person being shut up in your own individual prison cell.

Afterwards, we came back to the store, and we worked for another two hours. Except for Sol, who worked alone, we paired off, and Bob began counting, and I marked down the quantity of the different styles of dress shirts. Roy and Steve the stock-boy did the same thing with the sports shirts.

It went something like this. Bob opened the boxes of shirts and counted. I repeated the number and marked down the quantity on a long sheet of paper on a clipboard. We did the white shirts first, counting the pin collars, the button downs, the fused collars, and the spread collars. Then we went on to the Oxford cloth shirts, the basket weave oxford cloth shirts, the broadcloth and then the pima cotton shirts.

Meanwhile Roy and Steve the stock-boy were counting the plain colored gabardine sport-shirts, and then the knits, the checks, the stripes, the polo shirts and the Italian sports shirts.

Just so you don't think it was easy, we had to do it by style number, paying attention to the prices of each and every item.

At the end of the day, we had counted the ties, the sweaters, the hats, the jackets, the jewelry (such as tie pins and cuff-links), robes, pajamas, and many other miscellaneous items tin order to solve the problem of what stock we had on hand. You can see why it was after 11:30 when we finished. We were all bushed and went straight home as soon as Roy said to go.

Connie was still up watching the late movie when I got in. It was an old film starring Basil Rathbone as Sherlock Holmes. She said, " _These mysteries always prove the old sayings: The pen is mightier than the sword and actions speak louder than words_." See, after the crime is solved, the judge sentences the murderer to the pen or penitentiary rather than giving him the sword or death penalty. So, the judge's actions speak louder than his words."

Chapter 9 -- Education

September 1953

_Monday_ : "I hate it when customers treat us as if they think that, you know, the average retail clerk has the IQ of a cantaloupe," said Bob. He is on a crusade to change their minds by telling them how smart he is. "I just came back from the library," he will say, for example, "and, let me tell you something. This, you know, shirt is a lot like the style they wore in the, you know, movie, _Kiss Me Kate_ which is taken from a play by Shakespeare. William Shakespeare."

Or he will go on and on about words can mean opposite things like the time he literally burned my ear off explaining how dust can mean take dust off as in Dust the piano and can also mean put dust on as in The plane will dust the crops.

There is no question that I am smarter than he is by far. So that is why, since this is back-to-school month, I am tempted to go back to school further my education. Or, at least, I might take a correspondence course since the _Sherwin Cody 100% Self-Correcting Course in the English Language_ that I bought second-hand has been so helpful to me.

Last month, I sent in a penny postcard requesting information from an ad in the _Popular Mechanics Magazine_. A salesman from that school phoned and made an appointment to see me today after I got home from work. About fifteen minutes after I came in the door, Connie called me to meet a thin man in a wash-and-wear tan suit and an old fashioned Arrow Dart fused-collar white shirt. He said, ",Well, here we are. You've been waiting for me to call. I'm from The Official Radio-TV Servicing Correspondence School in Washington, DC."

'"You're a salesman from The Official Radio-TV Servicing Correspondence School," I said.

"I'm not a salesman," he said, donning his reading specs, "I'm a Certified School Enrollment Counselor, which means I am a professional."

He showed me a large notebook full of plastic-covered pages illustrating how I could make money after taking a course in repairing radio and television sets. "There are lots of jobs in the field, and there will be more in the foreseeable future, by the time you finish this course," says he. Me, I know for a fact, when Connie's Dumont TV set was on the fritz, she paid a pretty penny for a man to come out and fix it.

"Now, I want to ask you a few questions. Be sure you answer me honestly, now. Do you have an interest in electronics?" the School Enrollment Counselor said. "Tell me the truth, now."

"Unh hunh," says I.

"You answered yes. OK, then. Well, now, can you see yourself in your own shop servicing TVs and making house calls to bring dead TVs back to life? For big cash money?"

"I guess so."

"You answered yes. OK, then. I'll let you in on a trade secret. Those of us in the trade call ourselves teletechs."

"I never heard anybody say that before."

"Well, that's because you aren't in the trade. But, we are offering you the opportunity to become a teletech. A big money teletech."

"How long does it take?" I asked.

"How long does what take?"

"For somebody to learn how to fix a television set?"

"You mean how long does it take to become a teletech?" he said. "The School permits you up to three years."

"Oh, I would be almost twenty-two years old if I take the course," I said in surprise.

"How old will you be if you don't take the course?" he replied, peering at me over the top of his specs.

I couldn't think of an answer.

"Now, if the school accepts you, and rest assured we don't take everybody, you will be on the road to a big money-making fat-cat career in electronics." he said, speaking faster and faster. "Understand that we are making you a one time offer that we don't give to everybody. Like I say, I'm not a salesman, I'm a professional, a Certified School Enrollment Counselor. I don't like to brag but I've set many a man on the road to a successful money-making career. Why, it was only six months ago that I enrolled a fellow on the other side of town. And now? Well. That young fellow just like yourself has a new car, a new two- story house – all paid for in full, mind you..."

Without thinking, I said, "I thought you said that it would take me three years..."

"Well, that's the most time you can take to finish the course. That fellow started making money the first week he began study. Most of our fellows make enough to pay for the course almost as soon as they start." He stopped and wiped his mouth with a handkerchief.

"Well," I said, sitting there with his pen in my hand. "I don't know. Let me think it over."

"Now, lookie here, This here is a one time offer. You need to sign up tonight and give me a small deposit or the school will never make this same offer to you again. I can't come back."

"It all sounds very tempting. I am looking for a career, but the monthly cost is more than I could spare right now."

"Well," he said. "If I take my pen back, fold up my materials and go out that door, you won't never be given this chance again."

"Could I decide after I see how I can come up with the money?"

"Well, if you can't spare that much a month, then you really need this course," he said.

"There was a pause, and, then, I said, "Can't you give me some time to think it over?"

"Oh no," he said, closing up his book. "We only come once. The school only makes this one-time offer once."

"Well, I don't have the money right now," I said and I handed him his pen.

"Pity." The man gathered his materials, stood and started down the stairs. I followed.

"He is turning down the opportunity of a lifetime," he said to Connie, shaking his head sadly as he walked out.

Connie didn't say anything.

I hope that I did the right thing. They say, opportunity knocks only once, and, maybe, I turned down my only chance at my life's work.

It was almost 8:45 when the Certified School Enrollment Counselor left, so I listened to a little bit of Gordon MacRae singing on _The Railroad Hour_ , though I wasn't in any mood for classical music. Anyhow, I had just seen MacRae last week in the movie, _On Moonlight Bay_ that was about him and Doris Day in college.

_Tuesday_ : Today, I started off with several big sales. Then shortly before I was to go to lunch, I had a middle aged couple come in who joked and kidded each other as they purchased several shirts. Then they wanted to see a pair of shoes. The man tried on one of our most expensive shoes, a cordovan leather brogue. He walked up and down on the carpet in the shoe department.

" I don't know, he said "One of these shoes isn't right."

"Oh, my goodness," I said, "What's wrong?'

"I said that one of the shoes isn't right." he repeated.

I looked closely at the shoes and I couldn't see anything wrong.

His wife started laughing, "He means one isn't right -- because it is LEFT!"

Both the man and his wife laughed and laughed. "Oh you, silly dog," she sputtered. "He really had you going," she said to me.

"Yeah," said the man. "I really did. He didn't know what was going on."

Although I think I have a good sense of humor, I didn't get the joke. However, I laughed along with them. They kept congratulating each other over the exchange as we finished up the sale. As they left the store they were still joking with each other.

I asked Bob about it and he smiled. "Well, one shoe is right and the other is left. So, one shoe, the left one isn't right."

"I still didn't get it."

Bob is becoming a real egghead. Each day at lunchtime, he goes over to the library and reads. Then he comes back and starts spouting facts that he then uses on his customers hoping that will build up their admiration and trust in his sartorial judgement. Today, he came up with, "Did you ever know that there are a lot of words that go together but don't make sense with each other like pretty ugly, awful good, and the living end."

"No," I said, and I hadn't ever thought about it very much. And if I do, I'd be careful about saying so. You have to be every careful what you say in front of him since he has become the world's chief expert on everything. If you say anything about crossing your heart or taking somebody to the cleaners, Bob will give you a lecture on where the expression came from. Sometimes, it is very annoying. And I don't think it is as valuable in garnering customer approval as my simply dropping in an impressive vocabulary word like sartorial which Mr. Sherwin Cody taught me.

Jody stopped by the store. She is off today from her job at the hospital, but as she always does, she was wearing her white uniform and cap and pin because she is proud that she is a licensed practical nurse. During the rest of the week, Jody works first shift at the state hospital and gets off work at 3:00 and it seems like that is all she ever thinks about. Except for today because she was telling me about The _Perry Como Show_ , which she had watched on television, when an absolutely amazing coincidence occurred.

I was literally knocked out of my socks when somebody came in and asked for a Perry Como sweater, which we don't stock. Roy says that it is a fad and isn't the kind of thing that we should carry in a store like Joseph's. Besides, Miss Rosenstein doesn't like them.

Then, I heard Roy calling "FRONT" which means for us to get up to the front of the store because there were some customers just coming in.

Jody said, "I better go."

I said, "Oh, you mean that you will make like an amoeba and split." As you can see, I keep up with the latest slang.

But Jody just answered, "What? What does that mean?"

Roy shouted, "FRONT."

We all took off on the double.

Later that afternoon, Steve the stock-boy came in from running an errand. "Hey ." he said, "What does the word _altercation_ mean?"

"Altercation," said Bob. "Wait and I will look it up. Is it with a C or a K?"

What?" said Roy coming by.

"The word, _altercation_ ," Bob was looking in a pocket dictionary, which he keeps in the shoe department.

"With a C of course. A-L-T-E-R-C..."

"It means conflict, a fight."

"Okay, then. Why are we having a fight for free? There's a sign in the suit department saying _Free Altercations_ ," said Steve the stock-boy.

"No," Roy laughed. "You got the wrong word. It says _Free Alterations_. Free tailoring. It's spelled differently."

"I don't know," said Steve the stock-boy. "That's the way it looked to me."

"You heard of a Spelling Bee?" said Bob. "They'd give you a spelling F!"

To which I totally agree. But, after all, he dropped out of school in the 10th grade or something. What do you expect?

Well, anyhow, after work and after eating my usual Salisbury Steak Special Supper, I went to a neighborhood theater to see a double feature starring Clifton Webb. One picture was _Mr. Belvedere Rings the Bell_ in which he goes to an old folk's home. The second feature was _Mr. Belvedere Goes to College_ , which was even better.

See, the famous author, Mr. Lynn Belvedere, who is a very smart guy, needs a college degree for some reason. So, he enrolls in college and finishes college in just one year. Maybe, I could do the same thing. Of course, even if I don't go to school, I can still get some back-to-school clothes like chinos and a crew neck sweater. Then, I remembered I forgot to study my _Sherwin Cody 100% Self-Correcting Course in the English Language_ last night, so I had to study two lessons tonight.

Afterwards, when I turned the dial of my radio, one of the disk jockeys was playing _On Top of Old Smoky_ , an oldie but goodie as they say -- by The Weavers. Then, I found that I had an ear-worm as they call it. I couldn't stop singing the song under my breath, even while I was in bed, trying to go to sleep.

_Wednesday_ : I was humming _On Top of Old Smoky_ almost all day today. Bob, Steve the stock-boy, and I were straightening new fall stock when I said, "Hey Bob, have you seen _The Moon is Blue_?"

He said, "Yeah, I heard of it. But, if you guys want to see a really fantastic movie, go see _The Lavender Hill Mob_ , with, you know, that British guy. It's at The Art Theater."

"Oh, no," said Steve the stock-boy, "You ain't getting me to see none of these high brow foreign films."

"Say, I saw Clifton Webb in _Mr. Belvedere Goes to College_ last night," I said.

"I saw that a long time ago." Bob is always complaining that he was never able to go to college. "Speaking of college, tell me. Why did you drop out of, you know, The Refrigeration Institute?"

"It was boring. I mean reading all that stuff was boring."

"Oh, lots of reading is boring, but sometimes you got to do it. Like I was, you know, reading today..." said Bob.

"Yeah, and in addition to reading a lot of dull textbooks, I had to listen to a lot of boring lectures, take notes, and write and do a lot of homework."

"What was your, you know, major?"

"Refrigeration. Also, I don't know what I want to be. I can think of a lot of things, but they require too much preparation."

"Yeah, well, I wish I, you know, had the chance."

"Like becoming a doctor or a lawyer would be cool, but I don't want to spend years in college and graduate school."

"I just wish I had the, you know, chance," said Bob.

"I could become a teacher, which might be fun because I would never have to grow up, and I could stay in high school, forever."

"Unh hunh." Bob was staring at his nails.

"Maybe I could become an English teacher. If you major in English, you don't have to do all that homework that you have to do in math or science. You can just read summaries."

"If I was you," said Bob. "I'd join the army. Then use the GI Bill to go to college."

"Well, how come you didn't use your GI Bill?"

"I did," said Bob, "I used it to take a, you know, correspondence course in repairing, you know, television sets."

"Oh, you were a teletech" I said.

"What's that?"

"People in the trade call themselves teletechs."

"I never heard nobody call themselves that. Anyway, it was all a waste. I never was able to, you know, use it," said Bob.

The woman who came in the door next looked like she just stepped out of a movie set in Greenwich Village. Since I have visited the Big Apple, as we who have been there call it, I consider myself an expert on the city, in fact, I consider myself almost a native New Yorker. Anyway, this lady wore light-blue harem pants and a flowing multi-colored robe. She also had a gold headband and sandals and loads of necklaces and bracelets that tinkled as she moved.

"Hello, Sweetie," she said. "Can you show me some size 15 ½ -3 men's dress shirts?"

"I certainly can," I said, "Do you want white?"

"Oh Heavens, no, Sugar. He wears only pastel dress shirts."

"Well, we have these beautiful pink dress shirts," I said, pulling out our best-selling colored dress shirt.

"Mercy, no, Hon. Not that horrid plebian pink that all the car salesmen are wearing."

"We also have it in purple," I said, pulling out a sample.

"No, Darling. That's just ghastly. It literally turns my stomach," she said, making faces. "Oh, I know. How about subdued ochre?"

"What's that? Do you mean like a tan?"

"Oh no, Sweetums. Not a tan. Ochre. You do know what ochre is doing you? It's a combination of a yellow and an orange."

I pulled out a yellow broadcloth pin-collar shirt.

"No, You Sweet Thing," she said. "I don't like that shade of yellow and I totally hate that silly little collar. Maybe a mix of medium cadmium orange and light cadmium yellow would be about right."

I pulled another yellow shirt with a button-down collar.

"Oh no, Baby. That's more on the yellow ochre side but a little too much vermilion for my taste. You do know what I am talking about," she said, "I want him to wear this shirt with the new gray slacks I got."

"Charcoal gray?" I asked helpfully.

"Oh no, Shug. Not that ugly color everybody is wearing. Combining white and black produces charcoal gray. The slacks I bought for him, not here, are a cool blue gray that has alizarin, crimson, viridian, and white in it."

Apparently, Roy noticed the pile of shirts on the counter and he stepped in to take over the sale. "Are you the boss, Honey?" asked the woman and went right into her discussion of the exact color she wanted. After helping pull a few more shirts from the case, I was able to move away from them and let Roy take over the sale entirely.

It took Roy an hour or more but he sold her a shirt. After he put it in a gift box and rang up the sale, she flounced out of the store with a great jingling and jangling of her jewelry and a swirling of her attire. I asked Roy, "What did she buy?"

"You mean what did I sell her? I sold her a yellow broadcloth shirt."

"Wow, You did a great job," I said.

"Let's face it. All in a day's work," said Roy.

When I got home, Connie was watching _Arthur Godfrey and His Friends_ and she asked me if I wanted to see some singing sailor boy named la Rosa.

"No, thanks," I said. For some reason, I can't stop humming _On a Wing and a Prayer_ , a hit song from back during World War 2 when I was a little kid. I decided not to tell her I have decided to pursue a military career. I studied English for the required fifteen minutes. The rest of the evening, I mulled over whether I should become a pilot or a navigator.

_Thursday_ : Steve the stock-boy arrived at about the same time I did at the store today. We both waited for Roy to come and open up. Steve the stock-boy started the conversation, "This morning the squirrel in my yard came right up to the back porch eating his egg-corns."

"Egg-corns," I said. What are egg-corns?"

"You know the things that grow on oak trees," Steve the stock-boy said. "Egg-corns."

"Oh, you mean acorns," said I.

"That's what I said, "Egg-corns."

"Good heavens! Egg-corns. When did you quit school?"

"In the tenth grade. I already knew everything they was teaching me so I quit."

"You knew everything? OK, then. Let's see. What's the chemical formula for water?"

"That's easy. It's H-I-J-K-L-M-N-O," he said.

"What? Where did you hear that?"

"That's what my cousin, Oscar, told me. He took science and he said, "The chemical formula for water is H to O."

"Well, It is H2O but..." I didn't know what to say next to explain the difference between H2O and H to O to him. So, I said, "Why don't you go back to school so you can get a good job?"

This is a good job."

"Well, you don't want to do it the rest of your life."

"I don't know. I'll get over that turtle when I come to it."

"The expression is getting over that hurdle. Like in a race."

"I don't think so. Turtles are slow. They don't race except in that kid's story about the turtle and the rabbit."

"Well, what you mean is, I'll cross that bridge when I come to it."

"Bridge? Now, you're wrong. . It's cross that ridge."

Bob came up to us at this point in time and so did Sol.

"I'm trying to get Steve the stock-boy to go back to school," said I.

"Don't do that or we'll lose a good stock-boy," said Bob.

"Well, he can't be a stock-boy all his life," said Sol.

"Yes, he can," said Roy, who came up behind us. "We need him right where he is. Don't you stir things up."

Roy unlocked the door and we all went in. Bob and I started cleaning the glass cases as we do each morning. Then, I waited on a tall and gawky customer who asked for a size 15--36 shirt saying, "I have such long arms I wear a short sleeve shirt year round."

I showed him some shirts in his size, and he selected two.

Finally he said, "I guess you can tell I'm not from around here."

"Not really," I said, "Where are you from?"

"New Mexico," he said, with a smile.

"Well, you'd never know it," I said. "You speak English perfectly."

"Well, thank you," he said although he looked a bit puzzled, I thought.

Later, after the guy left, Bob said, "Don't you know New Mexico is a state?"

"New Mex-ico?" I asked. "Don't they speak Spanish?"

"No, it's a state. The capital is, I forget. But it's out west near California and Arizona and Nevada."

"Are you sure?" I said. "I never heard of it."

""A lot of Indian movies take place in New Mexico," said Bob. Broken Arrow where Jeff Chandler plays an Apache Indian, and Jimmy Stewart is a cavalry scout who marries an Indian woman."

"I don't think I saw it."

"Then there's John Wayne in Hondo who rescues Geraldine Page from the Indians. I think that was New Mexico."

"I'm not sure. I think I saw that."

"The interesting thing is that they all show that the Redskins are just like the white men and may even be their equals."

"Equals. How can that be," I said.

"By the way," said Bob as one of her customers came in the door. "Do you know you have been humming On Top of Old Smoky all the time, and, now, I can't stop humming it too."

After I came back from supper, I saw that Roy was explaining how things worked to the new cashier. Instead of the youthful Jody, a plump gray-haired lady now held the position of cashier. Roy introduced her as Mrs. Buffington.

I said, "I'm pleased to meet you, Mrs. Buffington."

"No, please call me Susan," she said and I saw instantly that we would get along.

Susan seemed to learn quickly but hen I found out that she had had long experience as a cashier. So, everything went well.

Then, at home, Connie was bursting with the news. "Senator Joseph McCarthy and his Senate Committee are going after the Army."

"Senator McCarthy," she said to me. "Not Charlie."

To please her, I laughed as I went up the stairs to my room.

_Friday_ : After he came back from lunch, Bob asked, "Do you know you can see with your mouth?"

"How," I said.

"When you taste soup, you say, 'I'm going to see how hot this is,' right?"

"Unh hunh."

"Or when you eat, you know, steak. You can say, 'I'll see how this tastes.'"

"I know," I said. "It's weird."

"Didn't they teach you this stuff in high school?" he asked. "When I was in school we really learned a lot of stuff. Not like you guys today."

"Yeah, we learned a lot of stuff too. Just different stuff. For example, we read a book in the twelfth grade that I think was the greatest book ever written. It was called... _The Mad Raisins_."

"What?" said Bob. " _The Mad Raisins_? I never heard of it."

"Oh, you must have heard of it," I said. It was a huge best seller. And they made a movie of it with Henry Fonda and Jane Darwell."

"What? _The Mad Raisins_?"

"Sure. It was this great story about these Okies going west because of the dust storm. And all the troubles they have driving along in their old Model T."

"You mean _The_ _Grapes of Wrath_ , you nitwit! Not _The Mad Raisins_! Why did they ever decide to give you a high school diploma? We had to earn ours. _The Mad Raisins_!" said Bob, laughing.

He kept repeating that until we closed. A after work, instead of going to Pop's Grille, since it was payday and I had money in my pocket, I decided to treat myself to a complete steak dinner with pie ala mode for dessert at the diner, and, then, I went home. It was quiet, and I put the radio on and turned it down. Connie was not home, and I heard the doorbell ring. I went downstairs wondering who it was.

The bell rang again, and I opened the door. I was surprised to see that it was Ed. "Is she home?" he asked stepping down to the sidewalk as if he was getting ready to run. I shook my head no.

I didn't expect him to come over after the fur flew the last time he was here.

"Yo. Come on with me, and we will go to the Blue Pig and get a milkshake."

I was still full from my huge dinner, but I thought that I would be polite and say OK. However, I was a bit mystified.

"What will your girl friend say?" I asked. "I thought you were going out with her tonight."

"Oh, we had a big argument, and I felt like I had to get out of her Mom's house for a while. I just left her there."

I got my coat on, and we went out and got into his car, which I thought was a Henry J but he said is an Allstate, the same car but is sold by Sears and carries their nameplate.

We started up the street, when all of a sudden, we heard, "Where do you boys think you are going?"

Ed slammed on the brakes. His girlfriend, Kate, was hiding in the back. His car has no trunk, just a fake trunk lid stamped in the sheet metal. The back seat folds down, and that's where she was.

"You almost gave me a heart attack," said Ed, clutching his chest. "What are you doing in the back seat?"

I was speechless.

Kate was laughing her head off, "Well, when you got mad, I left the house. When I saw you coming out, too, I got in the car."

"OK," I said," Now, you two just kiss and make up."

They did, while the car behind us sounded its horn.

"You are so cruel," said Ed.

"Yes, I can be very cruel. I have been taught by masters," said Kate, which seemed to me word-for-word what Olivia DeHavilland, said in the movie, _The Heiress_. So, I asked her if that's here she heard it.

"Of course not," she said. "I just made it up myself just now."

Nonetheless, I felt very good about being a peacemaker. We all went to the Blue Pig where the parking lot was full of high school kids in their dads' cars.

We parked, and I got in the back seat and Kate got up front with Ed. The carhop roller-skated up to the car and hooked a tray on the door. We ordered hamburgers and milkshakes, but got separate checks. After a long wait, the carhop skated up with our order. I ate the soggy hamburger and drank the milkshake even though I was still full as a tick. Around us, high school kids drove by in their parent's cars, revving their engines and roaring off with squealing tires.

Ed's girl said, "Remember how we used to do this while we were in high school?"

"Yeah, those were the days. Hey, I got a good idea. Let's go to the drive-in." He looked back at me, "You want to go, too?"

"No thanks, " I said. "I'm kind of cramped in the back seat."

When we pulled out of the parking lot, I noticed that I was still singing _On Top of Old Smoky_ under my breath. Ed's girlfriend, Kate, had started humming _On Top of Old Smoky_ along with me. Soon, Ed joined in, too.

When I got back to my room, I felt really full, having had a big supper and then a milkshake and a hamburger on top of that.

When I went in, Connie asked, "Do you want a piece of cake? An old friend of mine stopped by and brought me this cake, which I can't eat all of."

So, to be polite, I ate a piece while sitting down in her kitchen and listening to her talk about Senator McCarthy's latest findings on the commies in our state department. It was a good hour and a half before I could get away. I was so full; I could hardly walk up the steps.

_Saturday_ : Sol's joke today was, "I'm wearing boxer shorts and I know how to use them." I didn't get it but Roy said he would explain it to me later.

Bob looked very wrinkled today. His clothing, I mean. Finally, he told me why. "Doris threw me out. As I was getting ready to leave for work, she threw my, you know, clothes out on the, you know, lawn and told me to move."

All I could say is, "I'm sorry to hear that." I wondered if she got as upset about his being Mr. Know-it-all as I do. When Roy came by, I saw he had a quiet conversation with Bob and then Bob left the store. Roy explained, "I sent Bob over top the dry-cleaners to get his suit pressed while you wait." Bob was back in less than a half hour looking much better.

I kept seeing in my mind's eye, Bob and his wife battling like Jiggs and Maggie in Bringing up Father, the comic strip. You know, the scenes where Maggie is throwing the dishes at him and in the next panel, Jiggs is all bandaged up. I never want to get married and end up like that.

Steve the stock-boy came upstairs from the basement with a pile of clothes that heghad just price-ticketed. He said, "You gave me a good idea the other day. You know what? I'm thinking of going to night school."

"That's terrific but how can you do that if you haven't graduated from high school? I know you dropped out of school to take the job here."

"Nah, you don't need no diploma to take evening classes in automotive body repair. They've already started, but they said I can register late."

"Well, I think that's terrific. When will you go?"

"I have to attend classes two nights a week, and I don't know if I can get off since we have to work every night from Thanksgiving Day until Christmas. I'm going to ask Roy about it."

It looks like everybody is going to school. Jody, of course, has already graduated. She is working as a Licensed Practical Nurse at the State Hospital.

This all points out to me the necessity of my finding my life's work, my career. When I was in high school, the guidance counselor had asked me what I wanted to do and I told her that I didn't know. I still don't.

Connie wasn't home when I got home, but she had left a note to call my mother collect.

I did. What did she want? My mother said, " Oh, the preacher and the choir director returned home, and the preacher wants to see if he could get his job back."

"Are they going to take him back?"

"I hope so," she said. "Thank heaven, he was able to overcome the demons tempting him. See, the story is the men like Miss Tiffany, the substitute pastor, but we women do not."

"Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you the sign in front of the church said: _As long as there are tests, there will be prayer in schools_."

"I don't get it. What do tests have to do with the Lord's Prayer in schools?"

"It means that kids are always praying that they will pass the tests. You know the kids pray 'Dear Lord, if you let me pass this text, I promise I will do blah blah blah.'"

"Oh, OK. I get it."

"Anyway, the church is going to meet and discuss whether to take the preacher back. I will call and let you know."

After we finished talking, I went up to my room to select a _Classic Illustrated Comic Book_ to read. There must be a hundred or more available although not all of them are on the rack at the newsstand. I want to read all of them so I can say I have read the classics.

But, first I want to give my criticism of them as the teachers used to ask us to do about things when I was in high school. First. They are overpriced. They cost fifteen cents each instead of the usual comic book price of ten cents. Second, some are very dull reading such as _Hamlet_ and some are interesting like _Black Arrow_ , _The Time Machine_ and _Frankenstein_ , all of which I have now skimmed through. Third. the artwork varies a lot in quality. For example, the cover artwork in most _Classic Illustrated Comic Book_ covers is better than the artwork that is inside.

Fourth, and most mportant, sometimes the comic book version is different. For example, I have spent the last hour and a half reading the _Classic llustrated Comic Book_ version of _The Time Machine_. I already read the freal book before in high school so I now know the difference between the comic book and the real book versions.

Here's how they differ. In the story, this guy in London invents a time machine and he travels in it about a million years into the future. There the Time Traveler as he is called finds a society of very peaceful people called the Eloi and their enemies called the Morlocks. If the Eloi go out at night, the Morlocks will catch and eat them. The Eloi can only go out in the daytime because the Morlocks are afraid of the light.

One day, the Taveler rescues Deena, a teenage Eloi girl from drowning. but the Eloi are gone. It is getting dark, so they light a fire to scare off the Morwelocks. The fire accidentally spreads to the forest. In the real book version, the Traveler escapes but Weena does not. In the comic book version, both the Traveler and Weena escape and she is returned to the Eloi. So, if I wrote a book report and said that both the Traveler and Weena escaped and returned to the Elois, you would know I read the comic book version.

Well, I must give some credit to my English teacher, Mr. Reedy, for telling us that movies and comic books are always different from the real books. He claimed they make them different to catch students who don't read the assigned book but watch the movie or read a comic book instead. Then, when those students write their book reports, their teachers will see that they did not read the assignment but cheated. Just last year, some student was supposed to write about the book _Ivanhoe_ but instead of reading it, he went to see the movie. He was revealed as a cheater because in his book report, the student described the famous fight at the end as being between Robert Taylor and George Sanders instead of saying it was between the Saxon knight Ivanhoe and the Norman knight Sir Brian What's-his-name. Mr. Reedy claimed that the student was expelled from the school and did not graduate.

By the way, Mr. Reedy used to say, " _The point of education is_ _not_ _just to make a better living but to make a better life_."

_Sunday_ : I bought the paper and brought it back to my room. I read _Prince Valiant_ by Hal Foster several times admiring the great accurate detail in his strip. You know The Prince of Wales of England, the one who gave up being king so he could marry some divorced woman from Baltimore, Maryland in the USA? Well, he said that the _Prince Valiant_ comic strip was the greatest contribution to English literature in the past century. That guy is absolutely right and he should know what he is talking about since he was king of England himself and everything. And, I agree with him. It is very educational and all the eggheads should be studying it each week in my opinion. I, myself, have learned more about history from reading _Prince Valiant_ than in all the years I spent in school. And I hereby grant permission for Hal Foster to quote me in his comic strip if he so wishes to do. I'm sure he will be grateful for my endorsement.

Also I should mention that _Prince Valiant_ shows you that people act like the same no matter what century they live in. I would say that is a very valuable lesson that should require everyone to read the strip each Sunday. The politicians would be able to predict what the dictators are going to do and be able to fight their wars accordingly. One reason is if I were a schoolteacher, I would want to teach history. And I would use _Prince Valiant_ as my textbook and show my students that history is the same thing over and over and that they can learn a lot from knowing that so they can avoid the bad stuff.

When I was a little kid, I used to draw my own comic strips. They were pretty good, if I do say so myself. If I wanted to, I could do so now and become a famous cartoonist.

Anyway, Ed said he would stop by, and he did. After I met him in front of the drug store, I rode in the front passenger seat. His sister, Agnes, was in the back seat with her children. His sister held an infant and her three-year-old daughter sat next to her.

Ed introduced us. " This is my sister Agnes who is majoring in literature .in college."

"Oh," I said. "I, myself, was just reading _Don Quixote_ last night. Just for fun."

"What did you say you were reading? " asked his sister.

"Don Kwix –oat," I said, pronouncing the name the way it was spelled. " It is a story about this weird guy who thinks he's a knight and goes around on a horse named Rosamund and fights windmills. No kidding."

"In class, we usually pronounce it Don Coyote."

"I always thought they pronounced it Donkey Cody," said Ed.

"I'm pretty sure it's Don Coyote." said his sister.

Then, everybody was quiet except the little girl was making noises animals make.

Ed asked, "What noise does a cat make?"

She answered correctly, "Meow-meow."

Then, for some reason, I asked her, "What noise does a fish make?"

She thought it over. Ed said to me, "Oh, stop it."

His sister got so burned up that I could feel her anger radiate from the back seat.

Finally, the little girl said, "Squish-squish," which was a pretty good answer.

It was quiet in the car for the rest of the trip, and when we got to his sister's house, his sister left without saying goodbye. Ed drove me home without saying boo."

It was late afternoon when I came in the door. Connie was watching some quiz program and trying to answer the questions before the contestant did. During the commercial, she said to me, " You know what they say: _You're never too old to learn because you can't never teach an old dog new tricks_."

Chapter 10 - Military

October 1953

_Monday_ : All day long, I felt as useless as a screen door on a submarine. The reason stems from the fact that this morning, I went to have my wisdom teeth extracted. The heavy-set dentist gave me a shot of something that put me to sleep. While I was under, I dreamed that I was strapped down in the stockade with "Fatso" Judson hovering over me just like in the movie _From Here to Eternity_.

When I woke up, I was stretched out on a bench in a small section of the outer office. I was dizzy, and my speech was slurred.

"Are you feeling all right?" asked the nurse, and I nodded, yes.

"You aren't going to drive are you?"

"Uh uh. Bus," I said.

"Well, be careful," she said.

I paid her, and, as I walked out on the street, I felt very wobbly. I realized I was staggering and slurring my speech something terrible.

When I got on the bus, the driver laughed and said, "Well, youse sure look a little under the weather, Brother."

"Uh uh," I said, dropping the fare in the box.

"Youse gotta lay offa that booze this early in the morning," he said. "Youse already three sheets to the wind."

I noticed that the people on the bus were looking at one another and shaking their heads and rolling their eyes.

I just know they thought I was drunker than who shot John. Even worse, the motion of the bus made me sicker than a dog. By the time I reached my stop, I was really woozy. I could hear people murmuring, "Soaked to the gills."

"Youse better get some black coffee, Brother," said the driver chuckling. "Or get a hair of the dog what bit you." As the bus pulled away the people on it turned and looked back at me. Not watching where I was going, I tripped over a bump in the sidewalk and almost took a header. I'm sure they all thought that my being three sheets to the wind was the cause of my stumble.

As for my mouth, surprisingly, I had very little pain. However, I was really weak. Then, I realized that I had not eaten anything for breakfast.

Since I had arranged to take the day off from work, I went home and straight to bed and left the radio on. Every so often I would wake up and hear part of a program and then drop off to sleep again.

When I crawled into bed, _Don MacNeil and the Breakfast Club_ was just ending. I dozed off, only to wake up and hear Mary Margaret McBride interviewing someone. I dropped off again, and I wakened to hear Father Barbour talking with Mother Barbour on _One Man's Family_ , a little bit of _Oxydol's Own Ma Perkins_ , and then _Art Linkletter's House Party_. I dozed off again and was wakened by the musical theme of _Lorenzo Jones_.

As the news came on, I sat up and turned the radio off, feeling like a different person. My mouth was hurting, but I realized that I had snoozed most of the day. I went downstairs and Connie asked, "How do you feel?"

"Fine and dandy. I am going out to get something to eat."

I walked over to the diner and ate carefully using only my front teeth.

I read today's newspaper's comic strips over and over again. In the strip _Beetle Bailey_ , General Halftrack was at the head of a long line of halted troops. He was speaking to a child standing next to his jeep, asking her how to get back to Camp Swampy. That kind of wrapped up the theme of the whole strip, which was that the state of the army was as Bob says, _SNAFU_! In short, _Situation Normal. All Fouled Up_! Maybe I should be more interested in a military career in the Navy as seen in the _Don Winslow_ strip. Or I should be even more interested in The Air Force as seen daily in the _Steve Canyon_ comic strip.

When I came back home, I decided to stay in the rest of the night. Connie said that Jody called me saying she hoped I was all right after my visit to the dentist. Luckily, after that, Connie left me alone, and I just lay in bed listening to Joni James, Kay Starr, and "The Singing Rage" Miss Patty Page all doing one hit after another. I thought about the military, particularly the Air Force.

_Tuesday_ : Everybody at work asked how I felt, and I said fit as a fiddle, and it was good to be back.

Roy said, "Let's face it, bad teeth can give you trouble. When I was in basic, one guy in my outfit had all his teeth pulled, and he had to eat regular chow."

"Well, if we're swapping war stories," said Bob. "When I was in France, we were in a clearing, way back behind the lines, getting our teeth checked. The dentist was pumping the drill, you know, with his foot."

"Unh hunh."

"A jeep pulls up and who gets out but Old Blood and Guts, hisself, pearl-handled revolvers and all."

You mean Patton?"

"Yes sir, General George S. Patton hisself. He says to the dentist, he says, 'Major, are these troops taking appropriate care of their teeth?' Then, he says to this dogface sitting in the dental chair, getting his teeth examined, 'Get that helmet on, soldier.'"

Before Bob could finish his story, Sol came by, stopped and asked me, "Did you bring your lunch or did you walk to work?" I guessed that he was cracking some kind of joke from his vaudeville routine, so I grinned and then chuckled to make him feel good. But, I wasn't sure, and I thought about it all morning, trying to see if there was an answer. Lots of customers came in one after the other and I never did find out what happened in Bob's story.

Pink and black is the hot combination right now although a lot of guys don't like it and say it's sissy looking. I was putting some pink and black ties on the rack when Bob's wife and her mother came in the store to visit Bob. His mother-in-law is short and gnarled like Mammy Yokum in _Li'l' Abner_. I half-expected her to be smoking a corncob pipe.

"I see you are still selling socks," I heard the mother- in-law say to Bob.

Doris, said, "Well, Ma, at least it's a steady job. He's not changing jobs every five minutes like some people."

His mother-in-law started in about Doris having to work, and how a woman should be able to stay home and raise her child, and so forth.

At this point, more customers started pouring in, and I had to get hopping. While I was waiting on a customer, Doris and her mother left. To meet Pappy Yocum, I suspect.

After we closed at 5:30, I ate my usual Salisbury Steak Special at Pop's Grille which I was able to eat without too much trouble although my gums were still sore. Then I went over to Willie and Joe, the movie which is based on Bill Mauldin's cartoons. It made me think more than ever about how nifty would be to join the military.

It was chilly out, and I decided to go home. When I got there, I saw that Connie had company; some short bald guy was in the kitchen. She introduced him, but I didn't catch his name. He was wearing a political button of some kind. Birds of a feather, I thought.

I went upstairs and started reading the newspaper. First, I usually turn to Ham Fisher's comic strip _Joe Palooka_ which today was about the Champ getting ready to fight this French Canadian Baptiste and how Knobby Walsh was running around giving Joe advice and Ann Howe was telling her Joe the exact opposite at the same time. This is what happens to me all the time. With Roy and Jody, I mean, telling me what to do.

And in Chester Gould's _Dick Tracy_ , there was more on the story from yesterday about B. O. Plenty and Gravel Gertie trying to get their daughter, Sparkle Plenty, to dress up for Halloween, which is any day now.

Also, I always read Zack Mosley's _Smilin'_ _Jack_ which has the fat guy with the buttons popping off his shirt because he is so fat and has a big beer-belly. Every time I read this strip, I think of my favorite of all time which was during the war, the Nazis try to make Smilin' Jack say "Heil Hitler," and he fools them by saying "Heel Hitler." I've never forgotten that clever act. Anyway, it got me thinking about joining the Air Force.

Connie called me down to take a phone call and it was Jody. She said she was worried about me and that she hoped the dentist visit went all right. I said yes, it had and we chatted for a while and she told me about her job. We finally said goodbye after Connie stood in front of me, tapping her watch.

Back in my room, I turned to the classifieds and the want ads in the local paper and saw that there were a couple of jobs that I could apply for. Rudolph's was looking for an experienced clothing salesman. Also, there was an ad for a trainee for The Big Small Loan Company, which might be an interesting career. So, from this, you can see that I do read the newspaper thoroughly no matter what Bob thinks and says.

Then, I went to sleep thinking about answering those ads and imagining myself in one of those positions. However, I kept coming back to thinking about a career in the military.

_Wednesda_ y: It was chilly this morning, which is to be expected as we approach Halloween, so I put on my new pink sleeveless sweater under my charcoal-gray flannel suit coat. I also wore a matching pink-and-black tie, and get this, pink socks, so I was dressed in the height of fashion. I walked to work. My mouth seems completely healed up.

Boy, was I surprised when I go to work and found out that Bob also had the same outfit on. Even our ties were the same the black-and-pink regimental stripe that was on display in the window. When Sol came in, he burst out laughing. "You look like the Gold Dust twins," he said to Bob and me.

To top it off, Roy was wearing the same thing when he came in. We all laughed about this all morning. Later in the afternoon Roy said he told Miss Rosenstein, and she said that this gave her the idea that all the salesmen should wear the same outfit every day. In other words, we each would wear the same suit, the same white and tie, and the same shoes like a uniform.

"Oh no," said Bob. "We don't want to do that."

"That's what I told her," said Roy.

"Right," said I, but I was thinking how odd it was I didn't want to wear the same clothes as everybody, yet if I joined the army, I would be required to do so.

I had been down in the basement getting a couple of boxes of stock and was just starting up the steps when I heard the voice of Joe the insurance salesman. Roy waved his hand to tell me not to come up the steps. Joe sounded a little upset. "Oh, he's not in. Well, I just wanted to check with him. He cancelled his life insurance policy and I wanted to see if I could help him. It is a very foolish thing to do."

"Well, I'll tell him when he comes in later this week," said Roy.

"Yes," said Joe. "The secretary in my office said to me. She said, 'Joe, that's a crying shame. He'll never be able to buy insurance the rest of his life No insurance company will touch him if he cancels this policy.'"

"Yes, that's a shame," said Roy.

"How about you?" said Joe "Have you thought of investing in life insurance coverage?"

"Oh, yes", said Roy. "My brother-in-law takes care of me on that score."

"Well, I understand. if you ever decide to make a change , let me know. Here's my card. And I'd appreciate your . . ." and here his voice trailed off as Roy and he walked to the door. In a minute or two, Roy appeared at the head of the stairs. "He's gone," he said.

"Thanks, Roy," I said. "I decided to cancel it because my mother told me to."

"You don't need to explain," said Roy, walking away.

Then, Steve the stock-boy came in. He was two hours late getting to work. His new girlfriend came in with him. He said, "I had to appear before a judge today because I was stopped for speeding. It was the third time this week, and I lost my license."

"But, you drove to work anyway. You might have wound up in jail."

"Yeah. Well," he said. "It's a doggy dog world."

"You mean a dog eat dog world," said I.

"Yeah, that too," he said.

In addition, I know that he has about twenty or thirty parking tickets that he hasn't paid. And, even worse, he is behind in his payments on the car, and he is afraid it is going to be repossessed. But I didn't want to kick him while he is down, so I kept my yap shut.

Steve the stock-boy's new girlfriend said, "I came in to back up his story of why he was late. It is very, very true."

Roy said, "That's not necessary. We believe him."

So, she said to Steve the stock-boy, "I'll be back later. These guys make me feel like I am a bowl in a china shop." Then, she left.

I think she meant a _bull_ in a china shop although I don't know why we made her feel that way. It was the first time that I had seen her, and I was surprised that she was very classy looking.

Bob said to me, "This one's no white trash from, you know, Sloppy Hollow. Look at the duds she's wearing."

Later, I asked Steve the stock-boy about it, and, apparently, that's true. He said to me, "She lives up in Cedar Crest, and her father is a big wheel with some business firm."

What she sees in Steve the stock-boy, I'll never know.

I have to decide what branch of the military I wanted to join. Roy served in the Navy. Bob served in the Army and was still a member of the National Guard. My friend Ted had been in the Marines, and my cousin Willy was now in the Air Force.

I was leaning towards the Navy for I remember how much I like to read the _Don Winslow of the Navy_ comic strip both in the daily funny pages and on Sunday, too. See, Don Winslow was a Lieutenant Commander in the intelligence service of The United States Navy. Just lately I saw they have a comic book about him. They also have him in a movie and on the radio. The comic strip was full of interesting spy adventures battling the Scorpion and other villains, especially the Nazis back in World War 2. So. I asked Roy what he thought about _Don Winslow of the Navy_.

He said, "Oh, is that still being published? During the war, that was just a bunch of nonsense to get you young guys to join the Navy. Pure propaganda."

"If you were my age, what military branch would you join?"

"No question about it," said Roy. "The Air Force. Let's face it. That's where the future is. In the air."

Steve the stock-boy was now standing near us. "Bull," he said, "You ain't catching me joining none of them!"

"Take those boxes downstairs," said Roy pointing to some new stock, which just came in. We all walked off in different directions.

On my lunch hour, I went in and talked with the Air Force Recruiting Sergeant. He was a stocky guy with an impressive bunch of ribbons on his chest and he had slash marks all the way up his arm. His uniform fit as if it were painted on him. I thought about how I would look in uniform: as neat as a pin, even though everybody dressed alike.

"The Air Force will send you to school to train you to be a... what do you want to be?" he said with a smile.

"I don't know. Probably a fighter pilot."

"Whatever you want."

"Or a bombardier."

"Whatever you say. I personally guarantee it," he said. Now. Any questions?"

"Well," I said, "Did you personally ever see a flying saucer?"

"Oh, son, the government's position on that is flying saucers are just an optical conclusion."

I think he meant an optical illusion, but I didn't say anything. Before I left, he scheduled me to take my physical tomorrow morning.

_Thursday_ : Since I didn't have to start work until noon, I went in at 8:00 AM for my physical exam to enlist in the Air Force. When the doctor saw that I had fallen arches, he shook his head sadly, "Well, that means we can't take you. They won't even take you in the Army." So, I really felt bad that I was rejected.

Afterwards, the recruiting sergeant called all of us enlistees into his office, and he asked me, in front of everybody, "Do you know why you were rejected?"

Looking down at my shoes, I said, "Yes." I was very embarrassed and disappointed.

When I got to work, I told Bob and he thought about it for awhile and then said, "Well, you should be glad that you don't have to look like a bus driver for the next four years. I never did like them air force uniforms."

Laughing, he walked away but he later came back and said, "I wish we could go to a, you know, small town, someplace, and I would take your exam and pretend to be you."

I said, "That's kind of you to offer, but we are different sizes and ages, so it probably wouldn't work."

At that point, Bob's Doris came in, and though I went to wait on a customer, I could still hear them.

Doris said, "Bob, I thought this over carefully, and if you can't spend more time with me, I don't want to live with you any longer."

Bob said, "I'm sorry. I know I have been working hard, but it will, you know, pay off in the future."

"Listen, Bob, I'm young, and I want to have fun."

"I know you do," said Bob. He tried to reason with her, but she kept on and on.

Then Doris said, "Don't look now, but someone is listening to every word we're saying."

Well, I don't know who she meant, because, at that moment, I needed to open the door of our self-service elevator to assist a lady in getting in. I got in and closed both doors and pressed the button for the floor she wanted and then opened the door when we arrived at the desired floor.

As often happens, the customer cracked the old joke, "I see your job has its ups and downs." She said it as if she had just thought it up for the first time.

People are always trying to crack wise. Even old ladies like this one. They always look annoyed if we don't burst out screaming with laughter, so I smiled. I sometime take the trouble to tell them that this was not my regular job so there were no ups and down to speak of on my position as Professional Fashion Consultant in haberdashery, but only busy periods and slow periods.

I went out to supper, and when I came back to the store, I sold two of our most expensive jackets to one guy. I was standing by the socks, having just finished with a customer who didn't buy anything. A short heavy fellow was going through the cashmere suburban coats, our most expensive garment at present. I helped him find his size and his friend who was also short and stocky and had a thin mustache told him how good he looked in it.

"You look absolutely adorable. Like a real treas-ure," the thin mustache said.

"You try one on," said the first fellow.

"Oh I can't," said Thin Mustache.

"Oh, go ahead. I insist," said the first fellow. I found the correct size for his friend, and he put it on.

"Wow, it looks like we are twins wearing matching uniforms!," said the first fellow.

"Well, we did both join the invisible army," said the thin mustache and they both laughed uproariously. I haven't the slightest idea what he meant by that.

They went back and forth for several minutes with the upshot that the first guy bought a coat for himself and a matching one for his friend with the thin mustache.

I called up the charge, and it was accepted. The customer signed the sales slip, and as they wore the coats out of the store, Jonathan was coming in to meet Roy. Apparently, the two fellows and Jonathan were acquaintances. They stood talking animatedly for several minutes, and Jonathan admired their matching coats. Jody congratulated me. She said that it was the biggest sale of the day, by far.

Afterwards, I said to Bob who stood watching the entire thing, "Wow, I wish that I had a friend as generous as that."

I don't know why, but Bob didn't say anything.

_Friday_ : Steve the stock-boy was late again this morning. He looked sheepish when he came in the store. He said, "They repossessed my wheels this morning." He pounded the walls with his fists as he went down the stairs to the basement. Roy came by and asked, "What's his problem?"

"They repossessed his car."

Roy just shook his head and started folding up some sport-shirts that a customer had opened up and then left in a heap on the counter.

Then there was a lull in the business. I got to talking with Stan the new guy, who just started today. He told me, "I want to try retail because I am getting older and I want something secure. I've been out of work for a while."

"Did you ever sell anything before?" I asked.

"Yes, although I ain't exactly proud of it," he said. "When I got discharged from the army, the first job I could find was in what they call direct sales. I went to work for a furnace repair company. Let me tell you what they did. The sales manager was younger than I was. They took you out for training for which you were not paid."

"What was that like?" I asked.

"What the company guys did was go from door-to-door looking in particular for old ladies or widows. The company guys would say to them, 'We are from the city sent to inspect your furnace to see it's safe and won't blow up or kill you with coal gas.' That was all a lie, of course. Most everybody had coal furnaces and if they let us in the house, we went down in the cellar and started taking the coal furnace apart. The sales manager told us, 'Don't be afraid to break nothing.' That was because they were the only company that made replacement parts."

"So, what happened?" I asked.

"I'm going to tell you," he said. "So the company guys took the furnace apart and piled all the parts on the cellar floor and kept telling the customer how they were lucky us inspectors came by when we did because the furnace was ready to explode and coal gas was escaping. The furnace company guys asked the customers things like, "Haven't you felt sleepy lately and even ached all over? That's the coal gas doing that to you."

"Then they told the customer how much it would cost to fix it -- usually one or two thousand dollars. When the customer said they couldn't afford it, the company offered to let them pay in installments. If the customer still refused, they threatened to leave all the parts on the floor and said, 'We can't take no responsibility if we put it back together and then it explodes or catches your house on fire. The city won't let us do it.'"

"What a bunch of crooks," said I. "What did you do?"

"I had no choice but to work there for awhile until the government put them out of business. After that, I almost went back and re-enlisted n the army. But I didn't. I found a job working in a factory and then worked here and there at different places usually until they went out of business. Then I was out of work for awhile, and, then, I got hired here."

"That's some story," I said.

Then Stan said, "I better find something to do to look busy so I don't get fired before I get hired." He went over to jewelry case and began rearranging the cuff links and tie clasps.

Roy's friend Jonathan came in the store and walked over to Roy who was doing some paper work at the sweater counter.

They didn't see me or they would not have spoken as loudly as they did. I could hear every word they said.

Jonathan said, "Roy, I thought it over very carefully. Either you pay more attention to me, or I don't want to live with you any longer."

Roy said, "I'm sorry. I know that I have been working hard, but it will pay off in the future."

"Roy," Jonathan said, "Listen. I want to tell you something. I'm young, and I want to have fun."

Roy tried to reason with him, but Jonathan kept on and on.

Then, he said," Don't look now but someone is listening to every word we say."

Well, I didn't know whom he meant, because, just then, Bob shouted that Miss Rosenstein wanted to see me in her office.

When I got there she said, "Did you apply for a job at Rudolph's?"

"Uh, yes," I said, since I had.

"We didn't know you were unhappy here, but if you want to tork ware, uh, work there go ahead," she said. "We want only employees who are loyal to work here."

"I just saw their ad, and I was curious," I said.

"Did they offer you more money?" she asked.

"No, they didn't make any offer at all."

"Do you wish to keep your position here?" she asked.

"Yes, Miss Rosenstein," I said.

"Well," she said. "We will let it go this once. You still have jour yob, uh, your job. However, if it happens again, you will no longer be employed here. We do not like employees who are disloyal."

I told Roy and Bob what happened, and they said I was very lucky that she didn't can me on the spot. Sol wasn't busy so he came down the steps to complain about Steve the stock-boy.

"I was chatting with the lad," said Sol. "He was telling me about his diet. He seems to live on junk food such as a soft drink and potato chips for breakfast. For lunch he has a soft drink and a candy bar. But, wait till you hear what he has for supper."

"You're going to tell us that he doesn't have a real square meal all day," said Roy. "Surprise, surprise!"

"He says his mother – he still lives at home, you know – He says his mother usually fixes him either pork and beans or macaroni and cheese, and a piece of pie or cake Sometimes, she makes hamburgers and hot dogs."

"In other words," said Bob, "he eats, you know, one cooked meal a day."

"If you can all it that," said Sol. "Except he tells me there is one thing he hates and will never ever eat."

"What?" I asked.

"Sparrow grass!"

"Sparrow- grass?" I said. "What is Sparrow—grass?"

"Asparagus. He calls it Sparrow-grass," said Sol, and laughing, everybody moved away in different directions.

I had a couple of good sales after that. One lady bought three white button-down dress shirts, all different sizes. Just minutes before closing time, some guy rushed in and bought three of our most expensive Famous Designer Ties without spending a lot of time choosing them, which is very unusual.

Then, a closing time, as I was getting ready to go, I noticed Roy appearing to be very angry about something. The new guy, Stan was standing at Roy's side and he looked very upset, too. I have learned not to go poking into affairs that are not my concern, so I just walked out. Everybody else had already gone.

_Saturday_ : This morning, I noticed that Stan, the new man, did not come in. "Where's Stan," I asked Bob. He looked at me kind of funny as he said, "They let him go."

"He was fired? But he only started yesterday. What happened? What did he do?"

"They caught him, you know, stealing."

"What?"

Roy called a meeting before letting customers into the store. He said, "Yesterday the Security Shoppers were here." The store hires this national agency of professional shoppers to catch dishonest salespeople and also to grade salespeople on how well they do their job such as whether they are courteous and conscientious and whether they try to upgrade sales and so forth. They come around once a year and the store keeps their comments on record for use in evaluating employees for retention, determining promotion, and increases in salary. No one, except Miss Rosenstein knows when they are coming.

"Yesterday, they caught one of our employees stealing. I'm not allowed to tell you how they did it or what they caught him doing. However, that employee who was only here one day was terminated and is in the hands of the police. I am sorry that we had to do this but I am not allowed to tell you anything more so don't ask. Let's never see this kind of thing again. Now, let's allow the customers in and we'll get to work."

Everybody was quiet and sober as a couple of customers trickled in. I kept wondering about Stan and what he did and why he did it. Later, I found out that the lady who bought the three shirts from me was a professional shopper, but she gave me a passing grade.

I had several big sales today and by lunchtime, I had already made my daily quota. In the afternoon, I doubled my usual business. I thought to myself that I should ask Miss Rosenstein for a raise.

A woman came into the store and straight to the shirt counter. "Hello," said I. "What can I show you?"

"I want to see some colored dress shirts," she said, "Size 16-4."

I pulled out several and she said, "Are these on sale?"

"Sorry, no," I said. "The sale was back in July and that was on summer shirts. This is October and this is new stock."

"How about giving me the sale price?"

"No., sorry, we can't do that. This is all new stock. We didn't even have these shirts back in July."

"When will they go on sale?"

"We usually have a sale in January, and maybe we will have some of these shirts on sale then."

"Will you put some shirts on hold for me until you have the sale?"

"No, sorry. They won't allow us to do that."

"You people are just trying to take advantage of us working people," she said and picked up a couple of shirts and threw them at me. Then, she stormed out of the store.

Then, just about five minutes before closing time, Ed came in the store. "My boss let me leave a early because I had to see you before you left. I can't come over your house no more because of your landlady."

"Yeah," I said. "She doesn't want to see you."

"Look, I got these two free tickets to see The Famous Ice Show from a customer of mine who is a promoter or usher or something. It's for a matinee performance tomorrow. Kate and I can't go. It's a long involved story, So, I came over to give them to you."

I have never seen an ice show, so I was interested. "How much do you want for them?" I asked.

"I don't want nothing for them," said Ed. "I got them for free so I was going to give them to you free as well. But you have to do something."

I had never known Ed to be so generous. In fact he is usually pretty cheap.

"I don't have anybody to go with me," I said.

"Yeah, I know, and that's what gave Kate the idea. That's the other part of it. Kate has this girlfriend who just broke up with her boyfriend and she is down in the dumps and Kate wants to fix you up with her. She is a nice looking girl and all. You understand. She ain't no dog. So if you take her, I will give you the tickets."

Well I never have seen an ice skating show and I have never gone on a blind date and I don't have anything else to do, so, of course I said yes. Ed gave me the tickets and said that he would call me and give me the address and everything.

When I got home, Kate phoned and when Connie gave the phone to me, Ed picked up the phone on his end and said that Kate had phoned her girlfriend, Annette, and that everything was set. He gave me her name and address and the time I was to pick her up. He won't come in the house anymore after his run-in with Connie so he would have to meet me t the candy store to give me the tickets.

After I hung up, Connie asked," Who was that? Not the Commie pinko friend of yours was it?"

"Unh unh," I said and went back upstairs.

_Sunday_ : I woke up late, and I didn't do anything all day except read and reread the Sunday comic pages. I even told Connie that next to _Prince Valiant_ I would say the best-drawn comic strip in the world today still is _Steve Canyon_. I make that statement even though the Air Force turned me down when I went to enlist. She just said,"OK." But it's true.

I went back upstairs and read a strip they just started to run in our paper. It is about my favorite PI who is Mickey Spillane's Mike Hammer. I think it is great but too short. See, when I read one of Mickey Spillane's books, it takes a long time, but as a daily comic strip I spend only a minute or so reading and rereading it several times.

I was surprised to hear Connie say as I left, "Wow, you sure look spiffy."

So, anyway, I picked Annette up at her house and, I was surprised to see that she was a good- looking girl. It turned out that she was Italian. She told me straight off that she had just broken up with the love of her life who was a guy named Tony and that she was not interested in a relationship but was just going out with me because Kate asked her to.

We took the bus to the auditorium. After she said that she hoped someday to go to college to study psychology, I began telling her about the _Steve Canyon_ comic strip and how some of the characters in Milton Caniff's new strip were a lot like those in _Terry and the Pirates_ , Caniff's previous strip that he no longer draws. I thought maybe she would appreciate my understanding of people.

"For example, don't you think Copper Calhoun is a lot like the Dragon Lady?"

"The Dragon Lady?" she asked. "Who is the Dragon Lady?"

"And doesn't Mudder McGee put you in mind of Hotshot Charlie?"

"What on earth are you talking about? I never heard of those people," she said.

"Sure. They are in the newspaper comic strips."

"You mean the funnies? You were talking about the comics?"

"Yes."

"I never read the comic strips."

"Oh."

"How old are you? I thought Kate said you had already graduated high school. You sound like you're in the sixth grade. Reading comic strips and comic books. My Tony never talked about comic books."

We were both quiet after that until we got to our destination.

Then, I found out that our seats were not together. I was seated in one section near the front on the left and Annette got to sit a little closer, I'm pleased to say, but in the section on the far right. "See you at the break," I said.

The show presented some clever escapades on the ice, such as an elderly couple who spun around the ice as if they were much younger. Being naturally skeptical, I wondered if they actually were a young couple just made up to look like they were a couple of old codgers. In fact, after watching their entire act closely, being a very perceptive person, I began to identify flaws in the way they moved in acting like old people. In addition, some figure skating stars appeared who were, apparently, very famous from the way the crowd responded to them, but I had no idea who they were. There were also some silly acrobats whom I did not care for that much.

At intermission, I met Annette, though I had some difficulty in finding her. She was talking to a tall, thin guy whom I had never seen before, whom she introduced as a fellow who was sitting next to her. We each had an orange drink, which was exorbitantly priced and then went back to our separate seats. However, I found that someone was seated in mine, and he wouldn't budge.

"You and who else is going to make me move?" he said, and, so, I had to go find an usher. After a long search, I found the ushers who were in a bunch all talking together and after I interrupted them, no one wanted to go back with me.

"Oh, for crying out loud, why don't you just find another seat?" said one.

"I paid for this one," I said although I really didn't.

Finally, one usher reluctantly went with me, he said, to shut me up..

The usher talked to the guy, and, finally, he came to me and said, "He won't move so you'll just have to find another seat."

I asked him to try again and he said, "Well, there is nothing I can do about it. Just find another seat."

So that's is what I did, sitting far up in the arena next to a large family of very young children who kept running back and forth and jumping up and down on the stairs.

By this time, the show was ending, and I walked down to find Annette. At length, I saw her, and the tall, thin guy was still with her, and they were chatting up a storm.

"Hey," she said, when she spied me, "Since we don't know each other very well, would you mind very much if I rode home with Herb? He's a nice person, and he's got a car. Not that you're not a nice person, too and just forget about what I said about the funny papers."

So, that's why I took the bus home alone.

So the day wouldn't be a total loss, I decided to go to the movies. Connie had recommended that I see the greatest film ever made, which she claimed, was _Retreat Hell_ , with Frank Lovejoy. It's about the Chinese Communists attacking the Marines in Korea. On the other hand, Jody had told me that _Quo Vadis_ was the greatest movie ever made. Both are showing downtown, but I didn't feel much like seeing either picture. Also, I decided not to go see _Niagara_ even though Marilyn Monroe was in it because I don't feel like sitting through a travelogue. Likewise, I decided against _Peter Pan_ because it was a kid's movie.

I finally wound up going to see _Stalag_ 17 with William Holden, which was about a plot to escape from a German POW camp. I don't think it was as terrific as everybody said, but William Holden was very good in the part where his fellow prisoners thought he was a Nazi spy. I liked one actor named Robert Strauss because of his foghorn voice. Afterwards, I was kind of grateful that I hadn't joined the military after all because I wouldn't want to wind up as a POW even if it was with an interesting bunch of guys like those in the movie. By the way, Bob's advice when I was going to enlist in the air force really fits the movie, _Stalag 17_ , but it is good advice, not just for the military, but for life: _Never be first, never be last, and never volunteer_.

Chapter 11 -- Reference

November 1953

_Monday_ : I feel like I just bought a suit with two pairs of pants and burned a hole in the coat. The main reason that I am down in the dumps is that my search for a new job has been fruitless. My future looks bleak. I have no idea what will come next in my life. Sol had told me that everything that happens is luck and cannot be controlled. I replied to him that I am not fully convinced that is true but I am not sure what to do about it.

"Why don't you ask your friends if they can recommend you to someone they know or suggest a place where you might find a career. Think about it."

After Sol went upstairs, I went over the friends that I had and decided that Ed and Jody and Connie and a few other people would probably not have the contacts that I needed to move up." Customers were few and far between, so, I went up to the second floor to the bathroom. In the suit department, Sol was waiting on my personal customers, Mr. and Mrs. Epstein, a pleasant gray-haired couple, who were looking for a charcoal gray suit. There is only one color suit in style right now: charcoal gray. You can get various shades, which are slightly different.

Outside, the sky was overcast and charcoal gray like it gets when we start to close in on Thanksgiving, so Mrs. Epstein and Sol pulled suits off the rack and compared them under the fluorescent lights.

"Here, Maury. All right? Try this one. This is what they are showing now. I don't know, Sol. That double breasted light gray, I don't like on him," said Mrs. Epstein. "Instead, I think this light charcoal gray will be just right on him."

Maury disappeared into a changing booth and then reappeared wearing his wife's choice.

"So, what's not to like?" asked Sol, kneeling down and adjusting the turned up pants legs to break over the shoes.

"He can't wear double-breasted suits, Sol. This single-breasted suit looks gorgeous on him. All right, Maury?"

It's clear who wears the pants in their family. This went on and on with Maury trying on several single- breasted suits in various hues of charcoal gray. They finally settled on the first one he had tried on.

Finally, Mrs. Epstein said, "This one, I like. But I don't know if this fits right across the shoulders. All right, Maury?"

She and Sol tugged at the shoulders, the sleeves, bunched the pants and smoothed them out.

"Cuffs or plain bottom?" said Mrs. Epstein.

"They wear them both ways," said Sol.

"Cuffs," said Mrs. Epstein. "He wants cuffs. All right, Maury? Give him cuffs, Sol."

It was time for me to go down stairs.

In another half hour, the Epsteins walked by on their way out of the store. "I'll get him some shirts and a nice tie when he picks the suit up," she said.

Mr. Epstein said nothing. He looked a bit dazed. Suddenly, Mrs. Epstein grabbed me by the arm and pulled me aside. "Listen, don't say anything. I want you to call my nephew, Manny, who is the head of the personnel department at The Big Department Store. You know they have a terrific Executive Training Program there that would be perfect for you. You tell Manny I sent you over. Manny Epstein. Right, Maury?"

Mr. Maury Epstein nodded yes.

"Thank you, Mrs. Epstein," was all I could think of to say.

She just winked, and she and her husband left.

When Bob came over to the shirt counter, I said, "You know, it's more important to know people than to know a lot of stuff."

"To do what?"

"To get ahead in this world."

"Oh. Yeah."

"It's all luck, like Sol says. You just have to be in the right place at the right time. The right person comes along and bingo."

"Why? What happened?"

"Oh, nothing," I said. I realized that I should not count my chickens until they come home to roost, as they say.

When I went home, Connie was standing at the ironing board in the kitchen.

I didn't get a word out, as usual. "Well, you see what happened," she said, "They nailed another commie spy." It so happened that I made the mistake of saying that I hadn't heard about it. Connie spent the next half-hour explaining, her eyes burning with zeal. "His girlfriend turned him in," she said.

Then, I made another mistake by asking about the guy that she had introduced me to in her kitchen. "That jerk," she said, "I hope he is in the clink, too." She wouldn't say why, but it was a long time before I was able to get away from her. She just kept talking about what a low-life no-good rotten lying bum he turned out to be. "My best friend introduced me to him. She convinced me that he was a good guy."

When I finally got away from Connie, I went to see _How to Marry a Millionaire_ with Marilyn Monroe, Betty Grable and Lauren Bacall. It was in The Cinemascopic Anamorphic Lens Process on the Miracle Mirror Screen with Stereophonic Sound. The picture was very bright and noisy, but I couldn't get interested in it. All I could think about was how I would handle being Assistant Buyer at The Big Department Store if they offer me the job.

_Tuesday_ : On my lunch hour, I went over to The Big Department Store and filled out an application. The secretary who looked over my application was an elderly lady who was very polite but distant and noncommittal.

"First, we must give you a test. We have to make sure that you are not literate."

"Literate?"

"Yes, that you can't read and write."

"You mean illiterate."

"That's what I said."

"But I'm a high school graduate."

"That's what everybody says but when they take the test, we find they are literate."

I let it go. "How long does it take? I'm on my lunch hour."

Just then a well-dressed man opened the door marked Mr. Epstein and walked out.

"Are you Mrs. Epstein's nephew, Mr. Emanuel C. Epstein?" I blurted out. "She sent me over from Joseph's to see you."

The secretary didn't; like that one bit, and she glared daggers at me. If looks could kill, as the fellow says, I would be rolling over in my grave.

"Oh, you are the young man that my Aunt Helen said she was sending over to see me."

"Yes sir, " I said.

"Well, she thinks the world of you. Come into my office."

"But, Mr. Epstein, he didn't take the test yet," said the secretary.

"Oh, no. It's not necessary in this case. Thank you." and we went into his office.

He asked me why I wanted to leave Joseph's and I said that I was looking for a greater opportunity and he seemed to think that was a good answer.

He then explained all the benefits of working at The Big Department Store in their Management Training Program and it sounded pretty neat. If I get the job, I would get a huge raise as well as a lot of benefits such as profit sharing and insurance and other things, which I had never thought about having before.

He ended by saying, "Let me be honest with you. We may or may not have an opening. It all depends on what the General Manager decides. We'll make a decision by the end of the month. We'll let you know. Thank you for coming in."

Even though I ran back to the store, I was a little bit late. Luckily, no one noticed. Bob and Roy were both busy with customers.

Later, I asked Bob about a song he kept singing.

"The words don't make any sense. You know. It starts off, ' Mister Saturn egged ants.'"

"What?" said Bob? "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Sure you do," I said. " You sing it all the time but I don't get it."

Then, I sang the words for him as best I could. "Mister Saturn egged ants."

"Why should Mister Saturn throw eggs at ants?" I asked.

"Oh, for Pete's sake," Bob said. " Them ain't the words. It's 'missed the Saturday dance.' It was a Duke Ellington hit in the day." He started laughing his head off.

"Well, that's what I heard you sing. That's what it sounded like to me. Then, what about the part that goes, 'Her day clouded aflow.'"

"Oh, nuts. You got it all wrong," Bob said. "It's ''Heard they crowded the floor.' Cheese and crackers, how could you not understand that? It's one of the greatest songs of all time. It's a golden oldie. A classic. Didn't you never hear it on the radio?"

"No, I never listen to them old-time songs," I said. " Give me Miss Patti Page."

"You don't know nothing about music," Bob said as he went to wait on a customer.

After work, when I got home, I found Connie listening to music on her radio.

"I didn't know you liked hill-billy music," I said.

"That ain't hill-billy music," she said. "That there is country music. And that's Hank Williams with his big hit Jambalaya."

After the song ended, I said, "I don't understand some of the lyrics."

"Like what?" asked Connie.

"Like where he sings, 'Jungle eye, a cold fish pie, and Philly gunboat.'"

"'Jungle eye?'" Connie said. "It's 'Jumbalaya, craw-fish pie, and a filet gumbo.'"

"What does that mean?"

"Jumbalaya is a one pot dish of meat, fish, whatever you got, and vegetables, and onions, celery and green bell peppers which you simmer for an hour or more and bring to a boil," she said. "Craw-fish pie is made from these small shrimp that live in the bayou, and filet gumbo is this thick soup they make of seafood or meat, celery, onion, bell peppers and these sassafras roots served with rice. All them three is Cajun food from Louisiana and they are delicious."

"How you know so much about them?" I asked.

"Oh, during the war my husband was in the service and I lived down there and learned their cooking. I used to be a good cook."

"But, I never saw you cooking." I realized it was the wrong thing to say.

"There's a lot of things you never seen me do. But I tell you right out. If you think Hank Williams sings stupid stuff like 'jungle eye,' you don't know anything about music."

"Yeah, you're right," I said and went up the stairs to my room.

_Wednesday_ : Sol came in today in a good mood. As he climbed the stairs, he said, "Last night I didn't get a wink."

"Oh," I said, "You didn't sleep?"

"No," said Sol, "Somebody stole my Tiddly."

Bob and Roy laughed but I didn't get it. Sol nodded and did a little soft-shoe dance coming down a step and going up a step as he waved his unlit stogie on his way to the second floor suit department . Roy explained that Sol's joke referred to some sort of game where you flicked little plastic coins or something. I don't know. I never heard of it.

Afterwards, Roy asked me, "Do you remember the two suburban coats you sold on a Thursday night to a man and his friend?"

I was putting jackets back in stock. "Of course, I remember."

"Was the man drunk?" asked Roy. "The one that bought the coats?"

"Oh, no," I answered, "He didn't seem drunk to me."

"His wife claims that he was drunk, and she doesn't want to pay for the two coats."

"Oh," I said, "I'm sure he wasn't drunk." I hung the last two jackets up.

"Well let's face it, his wife claims different."

"You can ask Jonathan. I think he knows the guy. He spoke to him that night."

"I don't want to get Jonathan involved in this," Roy said, "Anyway, the man's wife is upstairs talking to Miss Rosenstein and claims that you took advantage of the customer by selling him two coats when he was drunk."

"Well, I didn't."

"I think that when the guy's wife found out that he had bought the coat for his friend, she got mad and didn't want to pay for it."

Later, the lady in question came up to me, acting very friendly and sweet. "My husband is such a wonderful man, but, sometimes he drinks more than he should," she said, "He was drunk, wasn't he, when he bought those suburban coats from you?"

"Oh, no," I said. "He definitely wasn't drunk."

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Yes, indeed. Absolutely," said I. "Your husband and his friend were joking with each other just like normal people do. They were not drunk."

The expression on her face clearly showed that she didn't like my answer. "Normal people?" she said, "Well, I'm telling you right now, you won't get away with it," and she stormed out of the store.

At this point, Roy came by and said, "I just spoke to Jonathan on the phone. Don't worry about it."

Just before closing, the three of us, Roy, Bob, and I, stood at the front of the store as usual. I told them that I had just seen _How to Marry a Millionaire_ and didn't like it. Roy said, "Let me tell you something. Jonathan's mother saw it, and she said it was the finest movie she's ever seen. She was just raving about it and wanted to go and see it again."

Bob said, "Well, if you want to see a good movie, go see _Julius Caesar_. Marlon Brando made Antonio's speech so, you know, realistic and James Mason and Edmond O'Brien and Deborah Kerr were fantastic. And, besides, it's by, you know, Shakespeare. _William_ Shakespeare."

"Unh hunh."

"They say it's the greatest cast ever assembled." he said. "It's got Marlon Brando." Then he started imitating Marlon Brando saying, ' _Friends, Romans, Countrymen, lend me your ears_.'"

Since Bob thinks he is such an egghead, he naturally would rave about William Shakespeare. I should have known better, but I took his advice to go see the picture after work. I couldn't understand half of what they were saying, even though we read Shakespeare in high school. Not _Julius Caesar_. We read _Romeo and Juliet_ , I think or maybe, it was _Hamlet_. I always get those two plays mixed up.

After work, I stopped to buy a comic book at the newsstand. See, Marvel Comics is bringing back three of its superheroes, which they had discontinued in 1949. I was a kid then and I used to read these superheroes all the time. They were or are The Sub-Mariner, The Human Torch, and Captain America and Marvel has put them all in this one special issue comic book.

As I was selecting the comic book I was looking for, the guy at the newsstand started up. "What are you still reading comics for?" he asked. "I would think an adult would be reading the classics like Dickens. That's _Charles_ Dickens, you know. Or, ain't you never heard of him? I guess not." He went on and on like this. I said nothing.

"Did you save up your pennies until you got ten cents to buy your little comic book? Ain't that swell? I can hardly wait until you save ten pennies more to buy your next comic book from me. Oh, thank you, kind sir."

I said nothing. However, I wondered if each customer had to deal with a personal diatribe when he or she bought a newspaper. Then, in a flash, I was pleased to realize that I had used the word _diatribe_ – in my thoughts -- which Mr. Sherwin Cody had taught me in his vocabulary lessons. In fact, realizing in that instant the progress that I have made in striving towards my goals of achieving facility of using correct English made it possible for me to ignore the news dealer's comments completely. I looked through my change, carefully picked out ten pennies, dropped them into his out-stretched palm, picked up my comic book and walked off. He stopped talking.

It seemed interesting to me that now that I had an expansive vocabulary and some skill in saying what I meant, it was sometimes best not to use it. Silence is golden, after all. I didn't need to get into a pointless exchange of insults with someone whose opinion of me meant nothing. So, I continued on home.

At home, Connie told me that no one called, so, apparently, Mr. Emanuel C. Epstein and The Big Department Store have not yet made a decision.

I went up to my room and started reading the comic book. In it, The Torch gets beaten up and buried in the desert, where atomic radiation increases his powers. He goes to rescue his sidekick Toro from the North Korean Communists but Toro winds up rescuing him.

In the second story, The Sub-Mariner helps the Navy find missing ships being held by a group of robots from Venus. He fights the robots off and they go back to Venus.

Finally, the third story is about Captain America and his sidekick Bucky fighting their old enemy Red Skull who is now a communist.

After I finished reading the comic book, I decided to stay with my present favorite hero in the daily funnies \-- Steve Canyon. He seems much more realistic and interesting to an adult audience.

_Thursday_ : Steve the stock-boy was the only person standing outside the store waiting for Roy to open up when I arrived. He greeted me with, "Hey! You know what? I'm thinking of getting a motor-'sickle.'"

"A motor what?" I asked.

"A motor SICKLE. You know, Man, VROOM VROOM," he said, twisting his outstretched hands.

"Oh, a motor-CYCLE," I said.

"Yeah," he said. "A good friend of mind is going to sell me his bike. It's a 1947 Harley Davidson Knucklehead. They call them Knuckleheads 'cause the engine valve covers look just like your knuckles... 2 cylinder over- head valve V twin engine... 74 cubic inch...1,200 cc..." Steve the stock-boy went on and on describing the technical aspects of the object of his desire, which I didn't understand at all.

I was glad to see Sol and Bob and Roy arrive so I could get away from him. A few customers came in as well so Steve the stock-boy disappeared down to his basement space.

We had a steady stream of customers until It was time for me to go out to supper. When I returned, Bob went out to supper and Roy went off the sales floor so I was alone when a solitary customer came in.

"I want to exchange this belt for my boyfriend," said the customer who was a little old lady with blue hair.

I looked at it and it was from a manufacturer whose products we carry, but it was model which we didn't stock."

"Sorry, " I said, " This is not one of our belts. We never carried this model."

"Of course you did," she said. "I bought it here."

"No, we never carried this. Do you have a receipt?"

"No, I do not have a receipt. Look here, the same box, the same brand name. Of course, it is your belt!" She said.

"Well," I tried to explain clearly to her why I could not make an exchange. "It is the same manufacturer and the box is the same. But we carry many different models that come in that same box and this isn't one of them. I'm not allowed to exchange something that wasn't purchased here, especially something that we never carried."

"Well, I bought it here and you carried it. And I insist that you exchange it," she said. "Don't you know the customer is always right? Where's the manager? Let me speak to Roy. Or let me speak to Estelle Rosenstein."

Uh oh, I thought. Maybe she did buy it here. Maybe she is a customer that I never saw before. Luckily, I saw Roy coming back on the floor and I called him over.

"Hello, Miss Winthrop," he said to the old lady. "My. I haven't seen you in a long time. How are you?"

"Well, Roy, I was all right until I came in here. I want to exchange this belt. This young boy here says I didn't buy it here and that you don't carry it and he won't exchange it."

Roy took the belt and glanced at it. "What do you want to do with it?" he asked.

"It's a size 42 and I want to get a size 44 and he refuses to exchange it. I bought it here. I just can't find the receipt."

Here. Let her pick out another belt."

"We don't carry this model belt," I said.

"Sorry, Miss Winthrop, you will have to select another model," said Roy, pulling out three belts, which were all priced the same.

"All right. Give me this one," said the old lady, after examining them all closely. " "That's all I asked for. Thank you, Roy." She just glared at me.

Roy put the belt in a bag and then handed me the belt she had brought in. "Even exchange," he said. "Don't need to write it up."

"Can we show you anything else today, Miss Winthrop?" How about some of our new patterned dress shirts?"

"Sorry, no, Roy, but we'll be in to see you soon," she said. "Please tell Estelle I asked about her and tell her we'll see her at the Country Club Anniversary Dinner next week."

"I sure will, Miss Winthrop. Sorry about the misunderstanding."

"Good bye, Roy, Thanks again," said the old lady with the blue hair and she walked out.

"That's the way to handle that," said Roy.

"But we never had that belt in stock," said I.

"No, I agree. We never carried that model 26605. But she is a close friend of Miss Epstein and a very wealthy woman. She doesn't come in often but when she does, she is a good customer. So, we can exchange it for the sake of good will."

"OK, Roy," said I.

"Put it back in the case and we'll sell it, " said Roy. "You were trying to do the right thing, but the next time something like that happens, just call me and I'll work something out. OK?"

"OK, Roy," said I.

As soon as I came in the door at home, I asked about my mail. Connie ignored my question by telling me the big news that McCarthy was going to find out why some dentist in the army had been given big promotion to major just a month after he had enlisted.

"Now we'll get them," she said.

"Who," I asked.

"The 205 Commies in the State Department. And in the Army, too. Thank God, McCarthy is on the case."

"Oh, OK, " I said wondering what she was talking about. " Did I get any mail?"

"Nope," Connie told me, "Nothing from The Big Department Store." She turned back to watching the TV. Nonetheless, as I went up to my room I imagined myself working there at The Big Department Store and meeting with the manufacturer's representatives and teaching the salesclerks how to get their customers to trade up.

Then, I thought it might be nice to listen to some highbrow music like Bob says he does, so I found a radio station that was playing Mario Lanza singing _Be My Love_. After a few seconds, I found the sounds were giving me a headache, so I turned the dial until I heard Mantovani.

_Friday_ : I went up to ask Miss Rosenstein for a raise. Her office is kind of frilly and all the chairs and desk and everything seem small and fragile. It made me think of how ladies wear tiny watches and men wear big ones. I was afraid I would break something. The chairs were all covered with clear plastic.

"What do you want to see us about?" asked Miss Rosenstein, busily stapling some papers together.

"I need a raise," I said. "Because I would like to earn more money."

She smiled across the desk at me and said. " We have been thinking about a giving you an increase after the yurst of the fear, um, first of the year."

I thanked her and went downstairs. Roy and Bob asked me, "What did she say?"

I told them word-for-word what I said and what Miss Rosenstein said. I was pleased that she had not even mentioned the complaint from the customer who claimed that I had sold her husband two coats while he was drunk. Which he wasn't and I didn't.

"Oh, maybe now's the time for me to, you know, ask, too," said Bob.

"Yeah," said Roy. "Let's face it. You might as well strike while the iron is hot. But, don't tell her I said that."

One of my regular customers, who is in direct sales, came in at this point. He sells encyclopedias door-to-door. Of course, I was feeling on top of the world having been almost promised a raise, and also possibly becoming an Assistant Buyer at the Big Department Store. My luck was good right now. I had read in _Salesman's Opportunity Magazine_ that some of these guys who sell door-to-door were making a fortune. I could, too, I thought, and I almost asked him for a job.

After I sold him a striped shirt and a matching ties and socks, we stood near the door.

He said, "Tell me, "How do you see your future? Do you want to be a salesman? You have the skills, you know."

"I know. Thank you," I said.

"You might think about direct sales," he `1said. "There is a good future in selling direct. You sell big-ticket items like refrigerators or vacuum cleaners. Or like me, you sell encyclopedias. Most of my sales are former teachers. Here."

He gave me a business card.

"If you want a high paying career, give me a call and I'll explain what we can offer you."

He shook my hand and walked out the door. I stood there looking at the card and thinking of how my luck was changing.

At home, Connie came up to my room to tell me about the TV program, _Life Begins at Eighty_ , where one old geezer who is a panelist on the show gave a nightgown as a birthday present to an old lady who is also a panelist on the show. Holding it up on camera, she said to him, "This is the last time you will ever see it." Connie thought that this was the funniest thing that she had ever heard, and she couldn't stop laughing. I laughed heartily just to please her.

But, there was no mail. I was disappointed that I still haven't heard anything from The Big Department Store.

_Saturday_ : Today, the first customer that came in was a tall woman with frizzy hair. She asked to see some sweaters.

"But don't you try to sell me none of that stuff they make out of chemicals, like Nylon, Acrylic and Dacron. I don't believe that man-made stuff is safe to wear."

"I understand, " I said, although I really didn't. "We have sweaters made of natural materials. I have been studying up on my profession, so, let me tell you anything you want to know about our sweaters."

"OK," she says.

"Here's your genuine cashmere, which comes from the Middle East. It takes anywhere from 3 to 6 goats for enough fleece to make this lovely sweater."

"Goats? I don't want my mister to wear no sweater made out of goats' hair."

"Well, " I said, "just feel how soft it is."

"No," she said, " I don't even want to touch it. The idea of you people selling sweaters made out of hair from goats. You make me sick."

"OK, OK," I said. "How about this sweater. It's Merino wool. From Australian sheep."

""No, I don't want any cheap imported stuff. Don't you sell stuff made in the US of A?"

"Oh, sure," says I. "Look at this sweater. This is Angora wool blend made from rabbits."

"Rabbits? Why, that's terrible. Look, I don't want anything made from poor little animals. You people ought to be ashamed of yourselves, robbing poor little creatures of their coats so you can make sweaters out of them. Then, those animals have to run around in the cold without coats to keep them warm."

"Sorry," said I, "but we only have sweaters made of synthetics or wool or other animal products."

"Don't you have sweaters made of cotton?"

"Sorry. No, we don't. You know, a cotton sweater doesn't keep you very warm."

"You should be selling stuff that doesn't harm your fellow living breathing creatures." With that, she stormed out of the store.

Roy, Bob, and I were standing in the front of the store when in comes this tall, thin guy and his three short, older friends. Whenever he comes in, everybody in the store turns around to look at him. I don't know who he is but he seems like someone who is very important for some reason. So when he and Roy are talking and I am listening, without thinking, I asked him, "What do you do?" Everybody stopped talking.

"What?" he says staring at me. His friends are looking up at him.

"What do you do? What is your line of work?" I continued.

"I'm... a salesman," he says.

"Well," I said in the silence. "I hope that I get to be as good as salesman as you. You are obviously a very successful man."

"Oh," he says, looking at his friends. "Did you hear that? Ain't that nice? Here." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a roll of bills big enough to choke a horse. He peels off a ten-dollar bill.

"No, I didn't say it for that," I said.

"TAKE IT," he said. He and his friends were staring at me.

"Thank you." I said.

"He means you have charisma," said Roy to him. "You have a lot of charisma."

"Thank you," said the man and he and his friends left.

"Geez, you got to learn to be careful what you say to guys like that," said Bob.

"Yeah, it's best to say nothing. Don't ask him about anything," said Roy.

"Why?" I said. "I gave him a compliment and he gave me ten bucks."

"You don't never want to ask guys like that what they do for a living," said Bob.

_Sunday_ : As usual I read _Superman_ in the Sunday funnies. He is the same character as in the comic books but the stories are often very different, For example some characters appear in the daily strip in a cannot be beaten by anyone unless they have some Kryptonite. Of course as they say he is faster than speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive,

In the afternoon, Ed, his girl, Kate, and I went to a youth meeting at the church that I once attended when I first moved here and where Ed and his girl still attend.

Ed had recently bought a new car, which he was very proud of. It really wasn't new but it was new to him. It was a 1952 Henry J put out by Kaiser-Frazier. Ed, however, insists that it is an Allstate, identical to the Henry J, but sold by Sears. Ed's girl was always finding fault with it such as the fact when it was brand new, it was the cheapest car they made. It didn't have a glove compartment or a trunk and worst of all in her eyes, it had uncomfortable thin seats covered with green vinyl. In my eyes Ed, was not a very good driver and he had trouble parallel parking. "Stop, stop," said his girl. "We'll walk to the curb from here." I didn't know whether she was joking or serious.

We were a bit late and as soon as we opened the door, we were struck by the music of the special guests, The Sepia Saints, an all-male quartet that was singing in well-practiced harmony. The four young men wore identical light blue double-breasted suits, white-on-white shirts with Mr. B collars, and gold-and-red striped knit ties. When we came in, they were singing Go Down Moses and followed that up with several better-known spirituals, all a cappella.

The darkest one, the bass, said, in a very deep voice, "Good afternoon. We welcome all you mens and womens. We all from the My Bible College. We traveling around, raising money for our school."

Only about fifteen people attended the Special Youth Meeting. It turned out that a lot of the church members were not happy with having this group visiting them, even if they were gospel singers from My Bible College, so they didn't show up. Even none of the board members were here. Only the preacher and his wife appeared and she left halfway through.

Each member of the visiting Sepia Saints spoke and told us about My Bible College. The bass gave a very brief description of the faulty, which was 3 full time and 3 part-time members, all with degrees from accredited institutions, he said. The second tenor said that My Bible College was a two-year school and taught Wesleyan doctrine. The baritone described the student body which he said currently consisted of 26 males and 18 females ages 17 to 53 years of age studying to be preachers, missionaries, church workers and just people who wanted to study the Bible. The first tenor who was also the lightest skinned, said, in a rather high piercing voice, "Since it is hard to find a place for students to stay, we raising money to renovate a house which was give to us. We are converting it into a dormitory where the mens and womens can stay -- on separate floors, of course." He then showed some 35 mm slides of their renovating activity by using a projector and screen they had brought with them.

Then they took up a special offering. Ed borrowed two dollars from me to put in the collection plate. After that, they sang four more spirituals and the meeting was over.

Almost everybody in the audience left right away although a few of us went up and told the members of the quartet how much we admired their harmony, their natural sense of rhythm and how they reminded us of some of our best friends. We tried to give them nice compliments, carefully avoiding any comments on race, which clearly showed how broadminded and unprejudiced we were. However, at one point in time after looking around to see if everybody was listening, Ed said, "Speaking for me, I personally would consider transferring to your college if white people were allowed to go there."

At first, I thought that was a very kind and thoughtful thing for him to come right out and say. But, the members of the quartet looked a little shocked. Perhaps the reason was that My Bible College doesn't offer any courses in refrigeration installation and maintenance which was, of course, Ed's current major. I'm not sure how they knew that.

The second tenor, said, "Well, that be nice, sir. Bless your heart. Me, I knows we all God's children. So I knows you be welcome if they would let you do that."

The baritone who was darker than the second tenor, but who was not as dark as the bass said, with a dazzling smile that showed off a gold tooth, "We wants you all to know you is good Christian white peoples. We thanks you for your contribution to My Bible College. May God bless you and keep you. Well. We gots us a long drive back to My Bible College. So, I guess we's better be going. We has to stick to the main highway and get home before dark."

They said goodbye and shook hands with all of us including the preacher who invited them. I guess everybody got a little embarrassed after being so frank and all, and, so, we all kind of drifted apart and out of the building. The four students drove off in their car, which I was surprised to see, was a brand new 1953 Cadillac Fleetwood four-door sedan.

Sitting in Ed's aging Henry J, I said to Ed, "Well, you really showed them that you have absolutely no prejudice whatsoever."

Ed's girlfriend asked, "But why did you say you want to go to their college?"

"Oh," Ed said, "Everybody knows that they all like to laugh and sing and have a good time, so I would have a lot of fun at their school."

"Well, I don't know if I could go there," said Ed's girl.

Finally, we stopped off at the Blue Pig, which is a popular drive-in, and we got some hamburgers and French fries and soda. Ed had to borrow some more money, but he said he would be sure to pay me back next week.

When I got home, Connie was in the kitchen as usual and I told her about the Sepia Saints and I said it was too bad that the congregation didn't come out to hear them.

"Well," Connie said, "It ain't the job of the church to try to change our society. Most of the time, some things are the best left just they way they are. You know what they say. ' _The less things change, the more they are the same_.'"

When I went up to my room, I thought a lot about what Connie said, but I didn't get it. Furthermore, I must have caught what they call an earworm. The spiritual _Ezekial Saw a Wheel_ kept repeating itself over and over in my head.

Chapter 12 - Opportunity

December 1953

_Monday_ : It was Bob, not Sol, who came up with a joke when he arrived at the store this morning. He said," It's beginning to cost a lot like Christmas." I was the only one who heard it because there were only the two of us outside the store this morning. I said, " _Tain't funny, McGee_ ," which is a line from the radio show, _Fibber McGee and Molly_. Bob said, "I thought it was." I was mulling over the hope that my Christmas gift would be a job in the Executive Training Program At the Big Department Store. However as optimistic as I try to be, it looked as if I might get a lump of coal in my Christmas stocking, instead.

We waited in silence until Roy showed up along with several part-timers and opened the door. The next thing you know, I had several customers in a row who wanted exchanges that I had to turn over to Roy in a last chance attempt to avoid giving a cash refund. We are supposed to trade up or give a credit memo when making exchanges. I always have the feeling that Roy keeps count of things like that although he has never said anything.

A stunningly beautiful blonde about 18 or 19 years old came in, what Sol would call a real shicksa in Jewish, and, while I was waiting on her, Steve the stock-boy was pretending to stare at her using his fingers as binoculars. She turned around and saw him. I just know she was embarrassed. After I handed the purchase to her, I saw Steve the stock-boy talking to her, no doubt apologizing for his thoughtless behavior. Strangely though, later, I saw the two of them walking together on the street.

During the Christmas season, which runs from the day after Thanksgiving to the day after Christmas, we are open from 9:30 AM until 9:00 PM, six days a week, and we are busy all day every day from the time we open up until the time that we close. If Bob or I wanted to work straight through without eating lunch or dinner, we can do so. I don't because I think I would feel weak if I had nothing to eat. I always go to Pop's Grille and order the same thing – a Salisbury Steak. In fact, the waitresses know to bring it without my asking them.

Usually, we hire several part-time salesmen \-- never any salesladies, and they work from 9:30-to-9, too. They don't earn commission, so if they make any big sales, they usually turn them over to Bob or me to write up, so that we can get the commission. Naturally, Miss Rosenstein doesn't like this, but Roy always looks the other way.

We are usually so busy that we don't get to know the part-timers very well. They wear name-tags so everyone knows what to call them. Roy, Bob and I never wear nametags. Today, I wonder how they ever got hired to work in a prestigious establishment like Joseph's. For instance, to be friendly, I asked one part-timer who is named Carmine, how he came to work as a part-timer here at Joseph's.

"Well," he said, "I was out of work for a few months and the guy at the unemployment office asked me if I would be willing to work over Christmas selling shirts and ties. I said 'Yes" on the spurt of the moment.

I said, "I think you mean on the ' _spur of the moment_."

"No," " he said. "I meant _spurt_ of the moment. _Spur_ wouldn't make any sense."

I thought about it and maybe he was right. Anyways, I admit I was a little annoyed that he was lucky enough to get this job at a highly esteemed store so easily and that it was unfortunate that he had no real respect for the honor of being employed here.

I tried to express this to him by saying, "This is a wonderful place to work."

"Yeah," he said. " I guess it's OK for now. Actually, what I'm hoping is..."

"That you might be employed here permanently as a Professional Men's Fashion Consultant?" I said. " Well, I wouldn't get my hopes up, but you never know."

"Oh, no." said Carmine. "I don't want to be a whatchamaycallit. What I was going to say is that I hope they call me back to my previous job at The Canning Factory."

"Why do you say that?"

"I was an oiler and I made twice what I am making here. And I didn't have to be dressed up in a monkey suit all the time."

"Well," I said "Good luck to you." And with that I moved off to wait on a customer just coming in the door. Frankly, I was somewhat put-out that the fellow didn't appreciate how good he had it.

Well, that wasn't bad enough. I said the part-timers don't get commission. That's true, but they do get a special cash award for each new charge account they open. And some of them open a lot of accounts. I overheard one part-timer explaining the form the customer must fill out to a young woman who stood at the counter, pen in hand. He asked the customer to write down her _mating_ _name_.

"My what?" she asked.

"Your _mating name_ ," he said. "What was your last name before you got married?"

"Oh," she said. "You mean my _maiden name_."

Seeing the quality of these part-timers close up was very disappointing. However, I do not want to make enemies for they can help me in many ways. For example, I try to avoid exchanges at Christmas time because we don't make any money on them. If anyone comes in the store carrying one of our bags, I let a part-timer wait on her. Once in awhile, I get stuck like today, I had to spend almost an hour with a woman who brought back a sport shirt that was sold by one of the part-timers. Even worse, I wound up having to turn her over to Roy for a refund.

After lunch today, I was surprised to see Mr. Manny Epstein, the Personnel Director from the Big Department Store shopping in our store. I went over to wait on him and sold him a pale blue oxford-cloth shirt with a button-down collar. Without even thinking, I said, "Let me show you a tie that would look terrific with this shirt."

I picked out a nice regimental striped tie, which he seemed to like. Then, I suggested some matching wool argyle socks, and he smiled and agreed. When I gave the merchandise to the new girl cashier to ring up, I thanked him and gave him my card. He was very polite, and never mentioned that I had applied for a job with The Big Department Store's Executive Training Program for which I was thankful. Afterwards, I wondered what they had decided and why they didn't hire me. All in all, I had a very good day sales wise.

_Tuesday_ : Bob and Doris have gone back together. They are no longer separated and are not going to get a divorce. As a matter of fact, Doris is going to have a baby. Bob told me all this today. He said he is very pleased about it, although, to me, he seems to be a bit stunned.

We were very busy this afternoon. Miss Rosenstein was actually selling on the floor today, and she complained that she waited on two customers while I was waiting on only one.

At lunch, since I was by myself, I occupied my thoughts by concentrating on some comic strips that I don't read and tried to figure out why. The first is _Mary Worth_ which always deals with problems that do not concern me and are none of my business. Further, the characters just sit around and talk. I was going to say that it is a comic strip for girls or elderly women like Connie, but then I realized that I am talking like Jody saying 'I was going to say' as she says all the time. Anyways, Mary Worth is not a person of action like Dick Tracy or Batman, which is what I, as an adult male prefer. The same is true of _Rex Morgan, MD_.

The next comic strip is more difficult to explain: _Mark Trail_. That's the one about a nature photographer and writer named Mark Trail who lives in Lost Forest National Forest with veterinarian Dr. Davis and the vet's daughter, Cherry Davis. This woman is about Mark Trail's age and is his girlfriend. Mark Trail tries to protect both nature and animals from people who want to harm them. He is a person of action and he is always punching someone to solve a problem. Although I like the strips where there is a lot of action, I guess maybe I am not interested in nature and animals, even if the animals are better drawn than the people.

The fourth comic strip, I kind of go back and forth on. Hey, that's pretty clever. I go back and forth on the fourth one. Get it? I will have to write that down and remember it. Anyway, I am referring to _Mandrake_. It turns out that the same man named Lee Falk draws both _The Phantom_ and _Mandrake_ but not many people know that, except for me. Mandrake is a magician. A real magician, not just a sleight-of-hand artist as they call them. He can actually become invisible, not just cloud men's minds like The Shadow. It is true that Mandrake can hypnotize anybody instantly if he wants to. But he also can actually read your mind and move things around with his mental powers. His hat, cape, and wand also are magical, too. His sidekick is a strong man named Lothar, who is an African and who has a lot of leopard-skin clothes. I think he is the only African in all the funnies. I will have to ask my customer, "Uncle" Leroy about that. OK, then, those are the reasons I like Mandrake.

Also, Mandrake is kind of like a superhero although I never heard anybody call him that. However, I don't always read the strip because it is too complicated, with too many characters I don't know. In addition, I don't like the style of drawing. It always looks too odd and old fashioned for me.

I went back to the store and got busy for a long time. Then, as the store was closing, Jody came by., LPN uniform and all. It was her day off, and she said she was shopping and just happened by. We got to talking about Christmas carols and she said,

"You know the song _Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer_. Well, I was just going to say, I used to think that one of the lines in the song was about a reindeer named Olive."

"Olive? " I said with surprise. "I don't remember that name in the song."

"Sure," said Jody." I thought the line went _Olive, the other reindeer_ ..."

"You mean you thought it said _Olive_ instead of _All of_."

"Yes," she said, "and in _Good King Wenceslaus_ , I thought they were singing ' _Cooking Wendy's fire went out before the meat was eaten_.' I know it sounds stupid now but that was what I thought I heard people singing."

We walked the two blocks from Joseph's up to Jody's bus stop in silence. And then I told her about my interview at The Big Department Store and how Mrs. Epstein had arranged it and her nephew let me think that they might hire me and how he came to the store today and I waited on him and...he still didn't say anything.

"Oh, I hope you get it. I hope they hire you."

"Thanks. I'll call you as soon as I know."

"Bye and good luck," said Jody as she boarded her Number 10 bus. In seconds, the bus pulled away and she was gone.

I walked home thinking how much I hoped I made a good impression on Mr. Epstein when he came in to buy something at Joseph's. I even got to wonder why he came to buy a shirt at Joseph's when he could have purchased one at The Big Department Store using his store discount.

_Wednesday_ : While we were waiting for Roy to open up, Sol said to Bob, "Did you see the paper this morning?"

"No," said Bob.

"Well," said Sol, "one of our customers made the headlines. Big time."

Just then, Roy arrived and opened the door. When I got inside and opened up the newspaper, I got the shock of my life. Do you know whose picture was on the front page under the headline? No, of course you don't. But you remember the fellow that came in the store and I asked what he did for a living and he gave me ten dollars? That fellow."

I said to Bob, "Let me read you the story under his picture in the paper."

"Well, I can read but go ahead."

" _John 'Smitty' Smith, reputed member of organized crime was found early today dead of a gunshot wound to the head slumped over in the front seat of his late model luxury car parked behind an abandoned factory building in the industrial section of the city. Smith, along with his long time associates, James "Jim" Jones and Robert "Bob" Brown were recently indicted for extortion, assault, arson, and criminal conspiracy in the Wilson Leather Case. Jones and Brown were arrested last night on another charge and are currently incarcerated without bail. A police spokesperson, who asked not to be identified, said that Smith had a long rap sheet and was well known to local and federal law officials. Regarded as a flashy dresser by his fellow criminals..._ "

"I told you to be careful what you say to people like that," said Bob.

"OK. You were right," I said.

People were coming into the store in droves this morning and we were busy as we could be. At one point, a very well dressed man came in and everybody looked in his direction, anxious to wait on him because it looked like a very big easy sale. I was up so I greeted him and asked him what I could show him.

"Handkerchiefs," he said.

I took him over to where we have handkerchiefs and pulled out everything that we have. As he looked through the selection, I marveled at his rings and his expensive watch. Being very observant, I noticed he wore French cuffs fastened with diamond cuff links. I just knew this was going to be a big sale. When you are as experienced in the haberdashery business as I am, you can just feel it in your bones.

He looked all through the selection we had of plain cotton, linen, and cotton blends and spread them out all over the counter. He eventually picked out one handkerchief, the cheapest of the lot and probably the cheapest item in the store. Naturally, I expected a man of his apparent means wanted a dozen, maybe three dozen, possibly more as gifts for his friends and acquaintances. I hoped we had enough in stock.

"Very good choice. How many do you want sir?" I asked.

"Just the one," he said.

"OK, well what else can I show you today? We have some shirts that would go beautifully with that handkerchief...and suit . French cuff shirts, too." Probably, he was just getting warmed up. I had seen this happen before.

"No, thanks," he said "Nothing else. This is all."

"A tie and some matching socks? We can match your shirt and suit superbly."

"No, nothing else right now . Just the handkerchief."

I took him to the register and handed the handkerchief to the new cashier, who took Jody's place and the woman after her. "Thank you," I said to the man and walked away. A few minutes later, I saw him walk out. The new cashier was waving to me.

"That man with the handkerchief," she said, " He told me he didn't have any money with him. He wrote me a post-dated check for one dollar. Roy said it was OK to take it."

Then, a very skinny woman in a threadbare coat came into the store. Her stockings were baggy and her shoes were literally falling apart. I could see that all the part- time sales help were shifting his or her gaze because nobody wanted to wait on her. I was standing at the sweater counter, folding several of the cashmere sweaters that someone had carelessly left there. When she came right over to me, I decided, being a Professional Men's Fashion Consultant, to be kind since it was Christmas and wait on her. I could feel the part-timers' eyes on me.

She was looking at our most expensive cashmere sweaters that we have on display in a prominent spot. I thought I had better warn her that she might have a heart attack when she looked at the price tag.

"That cashmere sweater is kind of expensive," I said and showed her the price tag. She didn't blink and said nothing but went over to the pile of sweaters that I had just folded and pulled one out.

"That's a size large," I said, showing her the tag. "That's cashmere, you know. They are very expensive. We do have some very nice less expensive stylish sweaters here."

She paid no attention to me but continued rummaging around in the cashmere sweaters that I had just folded up. The next thing you know, she pulled out a size extra-large in a different color.

"That's an extra-large," I said, "Do you want that size instead of large?"

She shook her head no. Then, I was astounded to see her pull out a size small. Maybe this was all some sort of weird joke, I thought. She handed me the sweaters, but still said nothing. The woman examined the size on the sweater on display, stood back and stared at it for a moment and then searched for and found still another sweater size medium. Still, she spoke not a word. Then, she opened her well-worn purse and took out a wallet and peeled off seven crisp new one hundred dollar bills. Hardly able to speak because of my astonishment, I walked her over to the cash register and gave her money to the new cashier. I boxed everything up and carried it out to the sidewalk with her. Everybody in the store was watching. Once outside, she opened the trunk of a battered old Chevrolet coupe parked at a meter in front of the store. I put the packages in the trunk.

"Thank you, Madam. Thank you very much," I said. "Merry Christmas to you."

She nodded her head and cracked a weak half- smile as she just got in the driver's seat. Without looking at me, she just started up and drove off. I walked back into the store realizing that was the biggest single sale I had ever had.

"That's the biggest single sale anybody ever had," said Roy when I told him. "How did you do it?"

"Well I just used all my sales skills and talked her into it bit by bit," I said, feeling very proud of myself. On the other hand, Bob seemed ticked off with me for some reason and had a sour look on his face the rest of the day.

Maybe Sol is right when he said, "Every thing that happens to you is all luck. You actually have no control over life whatever.". However, I also remember one of my teachers in high school saying that you made your own luck. I don't know which it right so I just have to take things as they come.

When I went home, Connie had just finished watching Ezio Pinza on the _Kraft Music Hall_. She then spent a lot of time explaining to me about how Hanukkah was the Jewish Christmas although I didn't ask and have no idea why she thought it necessary to tell me.

Then, she began detailing how Senator McCarthy wants Ike to cut off aid from any nation trading with Red China. I told her Sol's mother-in-law's joke about Red China looking good on a red tablecloth, and then corrected myself to "green tablecloth," but Connie said it wasn't very funny and that the Red Chinese weren't a joking matter. She stopped just short of calling Sol a commie, himself. For some reason, I never got to tell her about my sales to the well-dressed guy or the poorly dressed woman.

_Thursday_ : Although this is Thursday and we opened at the holiday time of 9:00 AM, we closed at 5:30 PM instead of 9:00 PM since it was Christmas Eve. When we closed for business, everybody shook hands and said "Merry Christmas," " Happy Holidays," and "Season's Greetings" Even Sol, although I know it isn't his holiday. Bob and Roy both seemed in an especially happy mood. Steve the stock-boy had two girls outside waiting for him.

I left Joseph's as soon as I could, in fact just as Roy's friend Jonathan came in the door. We smiled and exchanged greetings and I left to meet Jody after she got off work. It wasn't a date or anything. It's just that we had agreed to meet at D'Angelo's, a particularly nice restaurant, to celebrate because it was Christmas Eve.

When I got there, Jody was already there waiting for me. They had a pianist dressed as Santa Claus as a special attraction He was playing Jingle Bells as I walked in.

"Hi," said Jody, smiling. "Merry Christmas." I returned her greeting and we were seated.

The pianist played a couple more Christmas carols and then just before he took a break, who comes up to the piano but the cook from the kitchen still wearing his cook's hat. They gave him a microphone and he started singing. Well sir, he didn't have a bad voice, for at least he could carry a tune but he seemed to have a heavy accent which was further distorted by a cheap microphone. If it wasn't that it was a familiar tune, I wouldn't be sure what he was singing. It sounded like:

" _Dowel force no well, Tea thane chills dudes hey_."

And, much more of the same. When he was done, the applause had ended, and he was back in the kitchen, Jody recited he first line in English: " _The first noel, the angels did say_."

"That makes me think of _Pogo_ ," I said to Jody. " Did you ever read _Pogo_?"

"What's that?"

"The comic strip in the daily paper. They have a song in the strip, _Deck the Hall with Boston Charlie_ which is like your carol, ' _Cooking Wendy's fire went out_.'"

"Oh," Jody laughed.

"I couldn't believe it when I first came across _Pogo_. I saw immediately that it was the work of a genius. It was the kind of strip I would have drawn if I had decided to become a cartoonist.. Here was a comic strip hat had everything going for it. The animal characters, Pogo Possum, Howland Owl, Churchy Turtle, Albert Alligator, and many more had perfect names, spoke excellent dialogue, and were the result of superb artwork. The artist Walt Kelly even used lettering as an art, matching the typeface to the character and the dialogue. The stories were interesting and often the plots were ingenious. I loved the unforgettable parodies of well-known songs such as _Deck us all with Boston Charlie_ sung to the tune of a Christmas carol. There also were clever word plays, puns and so forth. The cartoonist Walt Kelly had great fun with politicians and their antics. He really nailed it with his satire of Connie's hero Senator Joseph McCarthy by creating a terrific drawing of him as a character named Joseph Malarkey, an apt pun. In fact, it was the comic strip _Pogo_ which made me realize that Connie was wrong and my friend Ed was right in revealing McCarthy, Joseph, not Charlie, was a fraud and a phony. _Pogo_ was a big influence in helping me straighten out my thinking on politics."

Jody just sat there and listened to my speech without saying anything.

Finally, she spoke. "Wow, you know a lot about that kind of stuff. More than anybody I ever met. You know what? I was just going to say, you could write a book about it. You should, you know. I mean, write a book about it."

"Yeah," I said. "Maybe I could."

"Sure you could. You know a lot about a lot of things. You really have a lot of talent."

I thought that was nice of Jody to say that, and I told her how much I appreciated her encouragement.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" Jody asked.

"Oh, remember, I told you I am taking the bus home to see my mother. I thought it was a nice thing to do."

"" It sure is, said Jody. "I wish I could go with you. But the hospital doesn't close. I have to work as usual. Of course I enjoy doing it. I love my work." She started to tell me about some of the patients at the state hospital that she has to contend with.

After awhile, we decided to leave and I walked Jody to her bus stop. When the bus came after a long wait for it was on holiday schedule, we both shouted, "Goodbye and Merry Christmas!"

I waved to Jody as she left and I felt a little lonely and sorry even though I will see her the day after tomorrow.

I walked home. The house was empty. Connie had gone off to her club to celebrate Christmas Eve. Knowing I had to get up early for my trip, I went to bed early.

_Friday, Christmas Day_ : Since the Interstate Buses were on a holiday schedule, I left at 5:00 AM after putting Connie's Christmas present and card on the kitchen table. I went down to the bus station and caught the bus home to visit my mother.

It was a long trip, and the bus was surprisingly crowded as if it weren't a holiday. I kept the bag containing the presents on my lap the whole five-hour trip. I passed the time reading and studying a paperback compilation of daily newspaper Pogo comic strips, which was not easy with the bouncing, and jiggling of the bus. I began to think Jody was right. I could write a book about the comics.

I began to think about how I could organize them. For example, say, science fiction. There is _Flash Gordon_ , which is drawn by a great artist. For example, I remember one full page drawing of an army of creatures with wings diving down to ambush another army marching below. This was s scene only possible in a comic panel. In a movie, it would be very different because you would be forced to follow the action the director wanted you in the time he desired. But in the printed comic strip you could actually study it over and over.

A science fiction comic I could compare and contrast it with is _Buck Rogers_. This comic strip has greater detail with more attention to unique uniforms and equipment than in Flash Gordon. Although it doesn't seem to have the sweep and grandeur of _Flash Gordon_ , it seems to move in a different direction. In addition, I think the facial features of the characters in _Buck Rogers_ are more interesting than in most comics. Both, however, have truly interesting plot lines and do not seem like ordinary space operas as someone called them.

Then, there are comics that are truly classics. An example is _The Gumps_ with Andy Gump who seems to have no lower jaw, which I puzzled over as a kid. He always gets into trouble and has to call for relief by shouting, "OH MIN!" for help from his wife.

_Mutt and Jeff_ is another classic, which stars the tall Jeff, and the short Mutt who are constantly trying to take advantage of each other. Then, there is _Moon Mullins_ with fascinating characters such as Kayo Mullins, the kid, Willie and Mamie as well as the Lord Plushbottom all in great drawings of people in action.

_The Katzenjammer_ Kids with the Captain and the professor and Mama who live in an African jungle In every strip, there is a lot of dialogue before the captain spanks the two boys, Hans and Fritz, in the last panel.

_Krazy_ _Kat_ is a strip where Krazy Kat, Ignatz Mouse and Offisa Pup live in a desert, which looks like it is in the American Southwest. In almost every strip, there is a variation on Ignatz throwing a brick at Krazy and then being chased by Offisa Pup.

I would also want to write about the strips that are supposed to be classics but which were printed before I was born. I must admit I did not understand them whenever I came across them. For example, there was _The Yellow Kid_ which was about the adventures of a boy dressed in what appears to be a nightgown. Another strip that I never understood was _The Toonerville Folks_ which always seemed to me to be unfinished and consisted of hastily drawn sketches. The strip revolves around a trolley car, which runs though what appears to be the country, not the city. Each Sunday, the plots revolve around such events as the streetcar being underpowered, jumping the tracks, crashing, and the reactions of passengers, which are what you might expect. I think of these strips as only of historical interest.

Deserving of more praise, in my opinion, is _The Thimble Theater_ , which is filled with odd but colorful characters such as Popeye, Olive Oyl, Bluto, Mr. Geezil and Wimpy. They are all weird and bizarre.

My concentration on the comics was broken, when; the bus arrived at my destination. I splurged and took a taxicab all the way to my home, although, actually, it was technically not my home any longer. Strangely, there was no car in the garage, so I thought they might have gone to church. The door was locked, and, since I no longer had a key, I sat on the porch steps and waited for several hours. It was very cold, and I had to get up and walk around every so often to warm up.

Finally, at about 3:30 PM, I decided I had better go back, and I left the gifts inside the back screen door and hitchhiked and walked to the bus station for my trip back. I had another long wait for the bus because I had misread the holiday schedule.

It was almost 11:30 PM when I got back to my room. When I arrived, Connie was surprised, saying, "Where have you been? Your mother and your aunt were here. They drove all the way up here and waited to see you all day. They wanted to surprise you."

I tried to tell her that I had gone back home to try and surprise them, but Connie kept saying over and over, "They drove all the way up here just to see you."

Then, I thought I had better call my mother, and I asked Connie if I could use the phone and that I would pay her right away.

My mother answered and said, "Where were you?"

I told her.

She said, "Well, you should have told me you were coming. Then your Aunt Helen and I wouldn't have had to drive all the way up there for nothing. And the whole way up and back, your aunt talked my ear off about the preacher running off with that woman. I have heard all I care to about the whole business. Anyways, I wished you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. Did you get your gift? Your gift is in the mail and you should have gotten it by now."

This reminded me to tell her that I had left her gift inside the back screen door, and she said she would go look for it. Later, I once again thought how everything happens by luck.

_Saturday_ : I woke up early and for some reason I couldn't go back to sleep since I didn't feel like sleeping, I decided to read a _Plastic Man_ comic book. If you don't know, Plastic Man was once a small- time crook named Patrick "Eel" O'Brien who was trying to get away from the police when he fell into a vat of some kind of unidentified chemicals. He escaped from the police and was taken in by a monk at a monastery. This led to his changing from a life of crime. As he recovered, he found that his body had changed to be rubber, and he could change it into any shape imaginable to fit the situation. He decided to use his new ability in support of law and order. Along with Woozy Winks, his fat loyal friend, he fights crime.

It is Plastic Man whom I most want to emulate, not to actually change my physical shape although that may be fun. My dream is to be able to adapt expeditiously and appropriately to any emotional or intellectual situation.

I finally dressed and walked downtown to the store. There was a crowd outside waiting to get in. When Roy arrived, it was still a bit early, but we opened up anyway. This was a very busy day. Mostly, it was customers with exchanges, but a few people were cashing in their gift certificates. Miss Rosenstein came around to tell us to be sure to trade up which means to sell them more than the amount of their gift certificates or exchanges.

A woman came in to buy formal clothes for a New Year's Eve party. I sold her a pleated dress shirt, and, then, pulled out some black bow ties to go with it. I told her that this is what her husband needs to wear with that shirt.

"Where do you get off telling me what he has to wear?" she snapped.

"But, it's a formal affair," I protested. "It's a black tie affair."

"He can wear any tie he wants to," she stormed on and on. Finally, Roy came over, and she complained to him that I had some nerve to tell her that her husband had to wear a black tie and white shirt with a tuxedo. Roy stumbled and mumbled. I saw Miss Rosenstein watching us. Roy finally came out with, "It's the custom. Everybody does I for the tradition of it."

Finally, the customer said, " Not me. I am not going to do it. I'll just take the shirt. He can wear one of the ties he already has."

"OK, " said Roy. "It is up to you. If that's what you want to do, OK."

Roy took her over to the cash register, where the new cashier rang it up, and put it in a bag. She left. I could see Miss Rosenstein asking Roy what had happened. Then, she surprised me by not complaining about how I handled the customer.

The new cashier called me to the cash register and told me I had a call. I picked up the phone and recognized the voice immediately. It was Mr., Manny Epstein calling me from The Big Department Store.

"Can you talk freely now?" asked the voice on the other end. "We're sorry to have to call you here, but we just wanted you to know that we would like to have you join us as soon as possible."

"It's OK," I stammered. "We're not busy. I can talk."

"We would like to have you join us in our executive training program," said Mr. Epstein, "You will start off as the assistant buyer in our haberdashery department. Come in to see me on Monday, and we will make our final arrangements."

I wondered if I should say anything to Roy and I decided to wait until after Monday when everything was settled. I am getting much more settled as I grow older. I do not rush into things.

When I got the chance, I phoned Jody. I was so thrilled that I could hardly tell her. She squealed "YES!" happily when I asked if she would like to go out to brunch tomorrow morning to celebrate. Then, I remembered that I hadn't bought her a Christmas present.

At home, when I told Connie, she said congratulations and shook my hand. "Now that you are making more money," she said, " I may have to increase your rent."

_Sunday_ : This morning. I did not even buy the Sunday paper and read the comics. Instead, I found a drugstore that was open and bought her their most expensive perfume as her Christmas present. Then, I hailed a cab and took Jody out to brunch at Meguro's which serves Sunday morning brunch, which we ordered.

"Oh, I'm so thrilled but about your landing that job. What a great opportunity," she said.

"Thanks," said I, and handed her the perfume. "I hope you like it."

"Thank you," Jody said, "I haven't bought you anything, yet."

I said, "That's Ok. I didn't expect anything."

There was a long silence and then I said, "Would you like to hear my resolutions for the New Year?"

"Sure," said Jody.

"First, I realized that I was like the fake nun at Penny's-Five-and-Ten-Cent Store because my view of religion was that I should get some reward out of it. The phony nun got money; I got entertainment. For me, church used to be an alternative to the movies. I want to correct this."

"Fake nun?" said Jody and then she just sat and listened.

"Second, reading comic strips also made me look at the world in a different way. I thought that everybody who did not agree with me was wrong. I even thought that you were wrong at times. Sorry about that. Now, I realize how. . I feel... about you."

"How... do you... feel?" Jody asked.

"Well," I said, and I am sure I was blushing. "Would you... I would like you.. to consider being my... going on a date with me."

"Sure," she said. Jody just kind of smiled.

I said, "What I am trying to say is I hope you might go out on a date with me. You don't have to, you know."

"Ok," said Jody. "Are you listening to me? I just said I would."

"I mean, you probably already like somebody," I said.

"The fellow I like... doesn't even know it," said Jody.

"Who is it? Do I know him?" I asked.

"Sometimes I can't believe...You are so good at your work and now you got this great new job and you know so much about so many things. And yet you are so... well, sometimes you can't see..."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

Jody didn't answer, so I changed the subject. I didn't want to get too personal.

"Want to go to a movie?" I asked. "We can see _Beneath the Twelve Mile Reef_. It's in Cinemascope."

"OK," said Jody.

We got up from the table; I paid the cashier, we left and started walking over to the movie theater.

"Hey. Is this a date?" I asked.

"Sure," said Jody, taking my hand in hers.

That was nice of her, but I had to ask her, "Won't he get mad with your holding my hand like this?"

"Who?" she said.

"Your... boyfriend?"

"You silly thing," she said. "I don't have a boyfriend."

"Until now?" I said. Dimly. I began to see...

"Until now," Jody said and she suddenly turned and kissed me softly on the cheek. Drawing on Mr. Sherwin Cody's instruction in vocabulary, and my newly won command of the English language, I said, "Oh, wow," I kissed her back right there standing in the middle of the sidewalk. We walked along silently after that, hand-in-hand. Well, except when we stopped and I hugged her and she hugged me and we kissed again.

The next thing you know, when we got close to the theater, here comes Steve the stock-boy with the blonde whom he was pretending to look at with binoculars at the store a couple of days ago.

"See you in the funny papers," I said, as we passed.

"Not if I see you first," said Steve the stock-boy, looking back over his shoulder.

THE END
