I love working here.

[ambitious_wench]

Just a few minutes ago a man came into the store, requesting good stationery paper. "I use a fountain pen to write my daughters. They want me to email them but I said to hell with that. Take the time to sit down with a good pen and paper..."

He was old, perhaps in his late 60's, early 70's. He wore a knit cap, and the stubble on his chin was silvery. He wore a large jacket, a non-descript shade of khaki, or perhaps it was a faded olive drab. He wore rubber shoes. He carried a bag, and I could see a pack of cigarettes and a newspaper in it. If there is such a thing as a crusty New Englander, he embodied it. His very body spoke "carmudgeon".

I showed him what we have in stock, but it wasn't to his liking. He wanted something with a high rag content.

He looked about for a bit, and then left. I thought of how lucky his daughters were. I imagined the feel of good stationery, of the beautiful flow of ink into words.

Imagine having a set of letters from your father on good paper, vibrant ink. Treasures, treasures.

Immediately the door opened again, and he stuck his head back in.
"Did you hear the terrible news?"
"What terrible news?"
"Melvin (something or other...I missed it) died on Monday. He wrote the Hokey-Pokey song. On Tuesday, they had to bury him because he was Jewish. They got him ready for the coffin, and when they put his left foot in... (ominous voice) *that's* when the trouble started".

By the time I stopped laughing to wipe my eyes, he was gone.

May the gods bless and keep that man.

Comments

[whispersinink.livejournal.com]

hehehehe

[lilagrubb.livejournal.com]

Hahahahaha!!
His daughters are lucky, he must be a great dad.

[sebastianm.livejournal.com]

That's what it's all about . . .

[harliquinn.livejournal.com]

*rimshot*

[harliquinn.livejournal.com]

There was a man like that who would (also write to his kids from Chicago) with fountain pens. We were the one store in the area who sold good pens at a decent price and he would often come in for ink cartridges or new nibs. Always a nice man. Always had a joke or a story to tell (when he wasn't in a hurry...)

It's one of those things I miss about the new store. We don't sell fine pens. Which makes me quite sad, as I was looking to finally buy a real one. :( it is times like this I wish my typewriter didn't scare the buhjeezus out of the rabbits.

There's something about those folks who like to write, the long and proper way.

[fluffy-cloud.livejournal.com]

That brought a smile to my face. Now why can't I have customers like that? Too many of the older men I have to wait on try to tell me dirty jokes while giving me lecherous looks.