Dear customer - chapter two


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Contact with the audience was intriguing and perverse. The customers were tormented with the idea of gifts such that, the more they spend, the more they accumulated points. Paradoxically, they were only supposed to know how good those gifts were, in reality. They demanded the full share of their spending to know if they had reached the score; otherwise, they would have taken some other article to round up. It was fundamental to create a dependency, sealed by the loyalty of the club card.

The concept of fidelity had its pleasurable aspects. A young married woman, with two children, was shopping on the first morning. She went in and greeted everyone. Then stood in front of the mirror of the underwear department and looked at it, after which she settled down, loosened the fourth button of the blouse showing a generous décolleté. She was silent though, if you greeted her when she came in with her husband.

We would have rewarded all of them very much. The director, on the other hand, was convinced that the young man stole tricks and perfumes. She made love with her husband and perhaps, weighed the already fattened meat on the scallops of the fruit garden under the endive voice. I saw her and called her Lady Endive. She realized that I would not betray her and smiled horribly, showing me a few inches of her boobs. In a sense, it was also a game. It was a stage. We created loaves for customers and this occasionally, changed. Sometimes it is anvils or hammers. One day, who knows, my lady would have hammered me in place of Mr. Dal Canto.

I escorted the customers to the escalator.  From the window I saw a guy walking around with the dog, Dr. Carloni re-enters the studio, the secretaries of the insurance office get out of the bar gesticulating and having fun.

The business was booming for the city's transport company, because public transport was full. Everything went smoothly.

At break time I wandered without a definite goal. My colleagues went home for lunch, as I entered the bar and stared at Pirelli's calendars, saying that one year was really twelve months old.

Donna Boccione, our most loyal customer, complained, like every day after lunch with the bartender because the espresso served was hot. Knowing Boccione, I agreed with the poor man, glancing at him with understanding.

Words were as useless as my actions. I had the impression of spending time when everyone was running. Suddenly, something abducted me... but yes it was her, she was the one: the girl with the dimples on her cheeks!

She walked fast to the bus stop. I could not follow her zigzag motion between the cars at the traffic light, and when I decided to poke her, she headed for the green. I could have considered it a sign of destiny, but I decided not to abuse it because the girl was going to work and that was her habitual journey. I walked away and thought of her. Belinda, she resembled Belinda Carlisle, the California singer. I would have expected her the next day. I did not listen to Carlisle's music, but I followed the Carlisle that was in her.

I went back to work. I waited for Belinda and visited Gatta. She waved at me without moving the lips, saying only L-L-O instead of a sunny and open hello.

Gatta repeatedly did not consider herself a colleague with a disadvantage like me. Once she came up against me with Baron, his CISL trade union official, because I had made fun of her.

Read chapter four



  © ENRICO MATTIOLI 2017



© Enrico Mattioli 2017