Saladolsa's snowy season
has, to this point, been one full of profound discomfort and chill.
The temperature barely broke into the double digits most days and
Fernando's large office windows were drafty portals to a frozen
hellscape of blowing, gritty snow and patches of ice.
Fernando did what he
could to keep the store clear of impediments to entry: he ventured
outside to clear away the drifting snow and made sure to scatter salt
over what his orange snow shovel could not remove.
One evening, the phone
rings. "Hello, Dominion of Movies."
"Yeah, I wanted to
let you know that we'll be keeping out the movies we got from you an
extra night."
There is a pause just
long enough that Fernando takes this as a cue to respond. "Alright,
that's fine--" he begins, only to learn that he had
inadvertently cut off the woman, one of Fernando's best customers.
"Our car just won't
start," she continues.
"Oh, I'm sorry,"
Fernando says when he realizes what he'd done.
But the woman takes this
to be an expression of remorse for her car troubles. "No, don't
be. There's nothing you could do about it. We'll come in and pay the
late fees tomorrow probably."
The
jilted not-a-conversation continues with Fernando only now
responding to her inoperative car woes. "That's fine. It's like
two degrees out and I feel like you're not the only one. Don't worry
about it."
"I'm sorry?"
she asks, sounding confused.
"Wait what?"
Fernando also asks, and assuredly confused.
"Maybe we should
start over," the woman says.
"Probably."
There is a pause of five or so seconds.
"Okay," she
says with a nervous giggle. "Our car won't start, so we can't
get back the movies we rented until tomorrow."
"That's fine,"
Fernando responds. "It's hateful outside and I don't blame your
car for not starting. Don't worry about the late fees, since I
wouldn't want to go out into this crap either."
"What, really?"
she asks.
"Yes, really. Just
don't let it spread that I'm not a heartless bastard."
She laughs. "You are
the best. Thanks so much!"
"Welcome. Stay
warm." Fernando hangs up, then looks around the thankfully empty
store.
"The epitome of
social class," he mutters, returning to his seat.
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