When I was 17 I worked at the French Connection in the Mall. It was there that I learned the complexities of the mall Hierarchy- basically the farther away from the food court, the higher end retail you were. We were on the opposite side of the mall from the food court. Thus as a teenager I thought it would up my cool and sophisticated quotient, much like my view on working in a coffee house (just for the record neither of those jobs amounted to anything cool OR sophisticated). While employed there I worked with this very effeminate gay man, Jerry, who was 30, falling out of shape, living at home in his parents basement and dating a fat hairdresser. Jerry was NOT the typical French Connection employee. He wore pleated pants (which were out of style even in the early 90’s) and silk patterned shirts open to reveal a wealth of chest hair and sagging pectoral muscles. Jerry loved to hit on me and since I was naïve and stupid I thought it was fun to flirt back and thought he may be a catch, lisp and all.
Jerry and my interactions were very strange and made most of our coworkers uncomfortable. They usually consisted of Jerry saying something sexual or totally pathetic and I would bite back in my usual razor sharp way. I never minded the banter back and forth and often found it fun to think of new witty come-backs, it was like I was practicing for the Bitch-lympics. Usually it ended in laughter and him touching me inappropriately as I winced in mild disgust and awe (disgust because of all the reasons I described above, awe because a MAN was touching me- it didn’t matter how gross). One particular day the laughter stopped and he never spoke to me again.
Jerry’s 31st birthday was coming up and he was in the usual quandary of “What am I going to do with my life?” I of course offered very little sympathy while listening to him moan on and on about how life takes so many twists and turns that you don’t know where you will end up. I snappishly folded my sweaters and told ugly women and chunky teenage girls they looked FABULOUS and told him he needs to figure it out because I was sick of hearing it. I had known since I was 13 what I wanted to do (4 years was a lifetime at 17) and listening to some “old” guy talk about life’s confusing paths was not one of them. My destiny was as follows:
1. Move to New York City
2. Go to NYU and major in musical theater
3. Graduate
4. Star in a Broadway musical hit
5. Win a Tony award
6. Break into movie by staring in an independent film I would co-write with my smart and devilishly handsome screenwriting boyfriend I met at NYU.
6. Win an Oscar and say ‘FUCK YOU’ to all the people who made fun of me.
7. Start a movie production company
Such realistic and easily obtainable goals, right?
After an exceptionally long lunch break Jerry came in very excited and told me he had “Great News”. I of course thought this news had something to do with me- it was great after all. I rushed to the back of the store by the men’s underwear where Jerry stood like a little kid who had to pee.
“I am going back to thchool!” he lisped
“What?!” I snapped back in disgust
He looked confused
“ugh and what for?!” I said before he could even respond.
“Make-up!” His eyes lit up like it made sense-- For the record:It didn’t. The guy always offered the most horrific hair and makeup advice to all the girls who worked at the store.
“Aren’t you a little OLD to be going back to school and for Make-Up of all things?” I condescendingly reproached.
Crushed and visably deflated (by a 17 year old) he turned away for a minute then slammed his hand down on the counter filled with boxer briefs (it was the only truly manly thing I had ever seen him do).
“YOU KNOW WHEN YOU ARE 31 YOU WILL THTILL THINK YOU CAN CONQUER THE WORLD!”
My quick witted and damning retort-
“By the time I am 31 I WILL have conquered the world!”
I then sashayed over to ladies to help another fatty squeeze into a strapless dress then cover up the arm rolls with a stylish shall (this is what made me the number one sales person in the region for the month of May).
When I turned back I saw him standing there dumbfounded and welling up in tears. He ran to the break room and slammed the door never to talk to me again. The manager later told me I had really hurt his feelings. I callously said he is a grown man and he can handle it. Thankfully my boss agreed and giggled at my comment. When I was driving home that night I decided that working with Jerry was too much of a scary sign. I needed to quite in order to focus on graduating high school and ensuring my fate will not be his. Two days after the incident I gave my notice.
Every birthday since 25 I have thought of this story. At first I thought it was hilariously funny. I would think of what a clever little bitch I was or how different my goals were. Then it turned into thoughts of how Jerry was right- things do change and twist in life. You really don’t know where you will land. The story slowly turned form aged wisdom lost on a young idiotic soul to a sad and haunting tale . Now as I careen towards 30 every time I try something new, every time I fail, every time I try to get my foot in the door, every time I am rejected- I think of this man and what he said. It will not go away no matter how many times I tell it to. Each passing year I see myself slipping further away from the confidant person I was, my goals, my ambitions and my dreams- granted many of them have changed but they still seem just as intangible. I am terrified I have hit a slippery slope and next thing you know I too will be living in my parents’ basement, working in a mall, have sagging pectoral muscles and some teenager will tell me I am an old loser. I however will not cry and merely turn to that little shit and punch his lights out.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Sunday, May 06, 2007
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