Showing posts with label a cat story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label a cat story. Show all posts

Sunday, January 9, 2011

CRASH!


‘Good afternoon Annette!’ I entered her shop with my black airline pilot’s case and a little sample rug under my arm. ‘Welcome, Peter, how are you today? Her dignified voice conveyed genuine pleasure.
She had her interior design shop recently re-decorated and the merchandise rearranged; I took quick notice of her brocade curtain materials and velvet cushions with gold embroidery. Interspersed with this were lace fringes and golden tassels everywhere. There was also a large elegant bed displayed in the centre of the room and rugs of oriental designs along the side walls. In the back of the shop was her desk across the right-hand corner and the entire back wall was one big mirror, giving the appearance of more space and display than there actually was. I noticed in the mirrored wall an open door to the backroom, where retailers keep their stock, receive their deliveries and, of course, keep their cafĂ© bar. Annette had an imported espresso machine and her coffee was really strong - it always made me leave her establishment with added spring in my steps.

We sat at her desk with a cup in hand and discussed business. She gracefully took one of my flooring samples I had brought with me and we talked about its technical details and my company’s general supply situation.
One soft vinyl sample with a grey slate pattern caught her eye and she was very keen to find out more about it, especially the delivery situation as she seemed to have already a customer in mind. Fingering my pockets I noticed that I had left my mobile phone in the car.


‘May I phone my company for exact dates?’ I asked politely.  She nodded with her usual grace.

Keenly looking around, I could not find her telephone on her desk, which was cluttered with upholstery fabric and curtain material and my own samples on top of all this. There was only merchandise in the shop, as far as I could see. In order not to show any slackening-off and eager to please, I looked behind me, along the huge mirror-wall and sure enough, in the doorway to the back room, I could see a small, classic, table with an antique looking telephone that had shiny brass parts shiny and seems to sparkle at me as if in invitation.

‘Ah, here it is!’ I exclaimed resolutely, jumping up and striding towards it. I’ll soon have the information we need and then there will be another satisfied customer!


CRASH!  There was suddenly the loudest bang I’ve ever experienced, my face felt so flat and there were sparks before my eyes, shooting in all directions and not for decorative purpose!
I was thrown back by something invisible, and onto the soft-carpeted floor.
‘Wha...what happened?’ I exclaimed in a daze, shaking my head and fingering my nose. It took me a while to get up and even then I staggered and swayed about as if drunk.


Slowly, the pain subsided and I tried again to walk through the door to the stylish table with the telephone. A small reflection of light gleamed in the air and only then could I discern what had happened. The door to the back room was also a full length mirror and, as it was left ajar, at about a 45 degree angle. It showed the reflection of the table which was actually on the right-hand side, out of direct view!
At a casual glance it had appeared to me on the left hand side and I had walked straight into this reflection. This mirrored door was too strong to crack, but boy was it hard!

Annette couldn’t help laughing, aloud and heartily, being a lady or not! Enjoying this bit of amusement with wild abandon, she leaned back in her cosy, sumptuous, chair, throwing back her head in helplessness. I could understand her point of view as I, too, had in the past worked in retail shops and had always appreciated funny things happening. Retailing can be a bore, with long hours and customers constantly asking the same questions all day long and reps, calling and talking about their boring products.....  


Straightening up and stepping into the right direction, I dialled my company and, with extra stiffness, I obtained the required information for Annette. After that, I bid her adieu and retreated to my car. Still aching, I drove off to my next port of call.

Peter Frederick
http://www.peterfrederick.org
http://www.life-on-the-road.com 

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

A DANISH STORY....

 The bright sunshine reflected the mood of the soldiers as they rode their motorcycles in a long military column, like serpentines, winding their way through the crowded city. Resplendent in their uniforms, some soldiers sat proudly on their motorcycles while others chose to rest in the open crew trucks as they slowly returned to their barracks.

They had just completed a highly successful military manoeuvre as part of their annual war games. It had been a great accomplishment and even their general, who gave no indication of his emotions, seemed satisfied with the outcome. He hardly spoke a word, but this was taken as a positive sign by his lieutenants and the non-commissioned officers.

The exhilaration of their successes was also acknowledged by the townsfolk, who had gathered on the footpaths, occasionally spilling onto the street, adding to the traffic congestion.

Everywhere people could be seen throwing flowers at the soldiers and personnel, cheering so loudly; they were even drowning out the military bands playing rousing songs from their specially festooned vehicles.

‘Hurray,’ they shout and ‘well done, boys!’ whilst constantly jostling each other to get closer to the convoy. And as far as you looked, there were cheering faces everywhere.

The seemingly endless column could only move slowly as trying to get back to the barracks, was proving to be quite tedious.

Per thought so too, as he drove his grey motorcycle with side car complete with passengers ‘All this stopping and starting is really strenuous’ he thought ‘it requires intensive concentration’ He seemed almost invisible to the crowd, sitting on his bike and all his bulky equipment, which would have fallen off long ago had it not been firmly secured with leather straps. And in front of him, reclining on some luggage that made a comfortable cushion, was Gina, an Italian girl who was luxuriously stretched out on the luggage, laughing and waving back at the cheering people.

‘Gina, you will have to get off from there and sit behind me in a proper seat! I can hardly steer and see the traffic ahead of me. And should we have to gather speed, you could fall off.’

A peeling laugh was Gina’s reply. ‘You worry too much, you are too serious. Enjoy the day – everybody else does!’ Where upon she returned her attention to the onlookers, smiling and waving at them.

Intermingled with the soldiers, who were perched high on the trucks and armoured personnel carriers were civilians. They were mainly Italian girls, ‘helpers’ as they were affectionately called, who had come to Denmark to work under contract to the armed forces. As they were always cheerful and hard-working, they added to the prevailing camaraderie.

The Tudor-style houses on either side of the road were adorned with colourful flags and buntings which were stretched across the road and gave the appearance of a roof over the road. They were mainly red flags with white crosses fluttering in the breeze, seemingly with excitement. And the occasional cloud tries to smile cheerfully from the powder-blue sky.

Per sits proudly on his motorcycle, smiling happily and every now and then  wiping perspiration from his face. The convoy was approaching the city centre now and only making slow progress due the traffic congestion. This made the driving for him increasingly difficult and required all his concentration. With all that stopping and starting, suddenly increasing speed and slowing down abruptly, there was a distinct danger of either running into the vehicle in front of him or being run down by the enormous truck behind him. Especially since his view of the traffic ahead was partly obstructed by Gina.

‘Gina, get into the seat behind me. Now! ’ He said to her and managed to say this in a firm, commanding voice; and she obeyed immediately. After all, he was responsible for the safety of his passengers and the transport.

The late afternoon sun was throwing long shadows, when the column finally arrives at the barracks. Soldiers and the civilian girls dismount cheerfully, rushing towards the canteen as they were in need of some light refreshments before storing away the equipment and vehicles in their proper places.

As they all hurried towards the canteen,  Per, hurried along too, becoming part of the long line of people on a narrow walkway. Pushing and shoving his way down the winding stairs and around a corner, he did not see the lieutenant standing there, out of sight and ready to pounce on any transgressor of military discipline. He had a reputation among the soldiers for being constantly angry.

Per was part of the mass of people now slowly shuffling down the stairs. In front of him, he noticed Gina and tapping her playfully on her shoulder, he smiled as he teased her with the only Italian word he knew:
‘Avanti, avanti!’.

The lieutenant, who was also Italian, overheard this, mistook this as a joke at his expense and stopped Per as everyone rushed past him.

The lieutenant’s face becomes an angry grimace as he gives Per a dressing down and made notes for a report with all the resulting consequences. Per tried to plead with him and attempts to explain that the remark was meant for Gina, but to no avail.

Standing there and desperate, he sees the General and a Colonel walking across the now empty square. Boldly stepping forward and addressing them in a proper military manner, he explains his predicament.

The General listens intently and turns to the officer at his side: ‘Deal with this issue and let me know!’
The Colonel’s voice was not unfriendly: ‘Go into the canteen now and write your report on this incident. And have it on my desk by tomorrow morning, at the latest. I shall look into this matter!’’ She saluted him as a sign of dismissal.

The barrack square is now devoid of people, giving Per a feeling of sudden loneliness. He makes his way back to the canteen, and as he enters, a wave of cheerfulness engulfes him.

Per finds a seat at a table along the wall and pulls a sheet of writing paper from a rack, attached to the wall in front of him. It was at eye level, containing mostly magazines and some stationary. Thoughtfully, he places the sheet on the table and, taking his writing pen out of his pocket, he tries to gather his thoughts together for his report.

He quickly glanced around, taking-in the mass of people who are enjoying themselves. The vast whitewashed hall had light-brown oak beams and wooden chandeliers with many light bulbs which had individual lamp shades patterned with chequered red and white material. The oak tables, too, were covered with table cloths in the same red and white pattern, adding cheerfulness to the prevailing bonhomie.

‘How do I start, what’s the best way of beginning?’ he thinks, staring at the empty white page. Suddenly he becomes aware of an Italian waitress bending over his shoulders; she places a printed double page in front of him that seems to have been torn from the centre of one of the many magazines.

She seemes to know about his predicament.
‘Here! Read this – it’s all in here’, she says with compassion and disappears. Somewhat confused, Per looks at the pages in front of him; they seem to tell a story and he begins to read:

“The bright sunshine reflected the mood of the soldiers, as they rode their motorcycles in a long military column, like serpentines winding their way through the crowded city. Resplendent in their uniforms, some soldiers sat proudly on their motorcycles while others chose to rest in the open crew trucks as they slowly returned to their barracks.

They had just completed a highly successful military manoeuvre as part of their annual war games. It had been a great accomplishment and even their General, who gave no indication of his emotions, satisfied with the outcome. He hardly spoke a word, but this was taken as a positive sign by his lieutenants and the non-commissioned officers”.

He continues reading with utter amazement and discovers that the story is his story!

‘Who put this in front of me?’ he asks the soldier sitting next to him. But only a shrugging of a shoulder is his reply. Standing up, Per waves his double page and calls out: ‘Hey, has anybody seen who put this in front of me?’
Several, very elated, people reply: ‘It was a waitress!’ But nobody can remember which one as there are quite a number of them working busily, moving in and out of the room.

Returning to the intriguing story about himself, he reads on that he will get up, walk across the vast hall to the next room, where he will meet his future wife…….

On reading these details Per becomes very apprehensive and yet inquisitive. As if under a spell, he feels compelled to read this story right to the end.

It goes on to say that he crosses the floor, and walked towards the door to the next room to find a pretty blond girl there and says:
’I shall see you this evening!’
‘Yes, I shall see you this evening!’ she nods shyly.

And when he started to read about an enormous wedding which was being held, with all the soldiers and staff attending, the drive from the church through streets festooned with flags and buntings and about the cheers and well-wishes of the people crowding at the footpath, smiling and happy,

Per felt the enormity of the moment! Pale and shaking all over, he rose from his seat and walked stiffly towards the other door at the end of canteen.

Nobody took any notice of him as he crossed the hall, the noise of chatter and hilarity continued unabated, whilst he suddenly felt terribly lonely in what he thought was the most very important moment of his life.

Reaching the door, he looked through a small glass window into a waiting room: It had the same whitewashed walls, and a few wooden chairs were placed at the opposite end of the room.

At first, Per perceived the room as empty but he suddenly became aware of a girl sitting on one of the chairs, exactly as it was told in the story. A feeling of de ja vu came over him and he felt that he had known her all his life. Everything here was so familiar; she was young and fresh-faced and her long blond hair cascaded richly around her shoulders.

She wore a white sleeveless summer dress which accentuated her pink skin. Her feet were in narrow-strap sandals and her shapely hands were resting in her lap. Her gaze was lowered to the floor and she seems to be waiting for something predestined…….

As he opens the door and steps into the room, she glances up at him for a moment with a shy smile on her face. She seems to have expected him. Her face, he had always known; it was so familiar, so natural. She did not have the need to wear make-up as her skin is smooth and pale. Her lips are full and pale too and he senses that she, too, may be aware of this all-important moment in their lives.

He introduces himself and she quickly looks up at him with the bluest eyes he has ever seen and nods knowingly.

Per, feeing so in unison with her and still remembering the story he’d just read, this story about him, he is only able to stumble out the words from his dry mouth: ‘You are my future wife!’

Her eyes still cast down, she immediately nods and whispers: ‘I know!’ A slow blush appears on her cheeks giving them a shell pink look.

’ I shall see you this evening!’ he hears himself say, feeling stunned by this momentous event. 

But she, too, knows all that and without looking up she nods with decisiveness ‘Yes Per, I shall see you this evening!’

Per finds himself back in the canteen with this strange feeling, a sense of surrender and finality. He realises that he forgot to ask her for her name, but finds this detail unimportant. He has found his future wife, he now has a purpose in life and that is all that matters!

Suddenly a determination to act overcame him and, having already read the story – his story- he knew what to do next! Striding purpose-fully past the tables with his care-free comrades, across the barrack square, he found himself suddenly standing outside the office of the woman lieutenant.

The two girls in the main office smiled when they saw him entering and seem to sense his urgency to meet the lieutenant. They pointed to one of the doors; “This way!’ Upon entering the lieutenant’s room, he was greeted warmly and offered a seat. This officer seems to have plenty of time as she listened patiently to his, somewhat garbled, report and smiled at his uttered intention to marry. Nodding reassuringly, she promised to arrange for the paperwork and other formalities and, wishing him well, she led this dazed soldier out the door.

‘Don’t worry about a thing,’ he heard her say, ‘I’ll arrange the necessary papers and then call you in for signing. It is that easy!’

This conversation reassured Per greatly. He stepped outside and suddenly finds the barrack’s square full of people, soldiers and civilians, cheering him and shouting their best wishes.

It’s as though everyone around him knew what was going on, except he!


Peter Frederick
http://www.peterfrederick.org
http://www.life-on-the-road.com


Friday, November 19, 2010

A KIND OF LOVE….

Ben Sampkins had a large retail shop that was not located in a shopping centre but hidden away in an area of factories. Somehow, this attracted lots of customers to him and he was placing orders quite frequently with my company, making him a much valued customer. Of course, I made sure that he had the latest samples and installed an attractive display stand in his shop. It was made of tubular steel with large, horizontal, selector pages to flip over. Housewives and decorators alike loved to stand there and leaf through its range of patterns.
Arriving there, I noticed a few cars parked right outside, which is always a good sign of business. It had a very wide shop front and the interior reached a long way to the back to where the offices were.
Stopping for a moment at the entrance, I took in picture, the whole layout of this attractive showroom. There were big rolls of carpets, arranged in herringbone fashion and on the side walls were hung beautiful rugs, passageway runners and over-locked carpet pieces. And sure enough there was a vinyl flooring section far in the back, near the offices, where my company’s display stand dominated the PVC flooring section.
From the ceiling were hung large signs, pictures of room settings and ‘Specials’ advertising, swaying slightly in a gentle breeze.
There was something else that called attention to itself: a grey tabby cat that kept brushing up against my leg in a friendly gesture of welcome. I patted the top of a roll of carpet and it understood immediately, jumping up onto the spot I indicated.
Naturally, since every staff in the shop seemed busy, I felt unobserved and therefore tickled this fluffy creature under the chin, behind the ears and stroked it vigorously, whispering sweet nothings and looking into its beautiful trusting eyes. I have never heard a cat purr so loudly; it licked my hand fast and with dedication – obviously, this gorgeous creature loved to be loved and to give love!
Eventually I had to stop and proceeded into the back of this gigantic showroom, where I found Ben in his office. He was a middle-aged man with the youngish, ruddy complexion of a country lad.
Sitting down, I immediately directed our conversation to the subject of my visit. There were new samples of floorings with especially developed low maintenance properties, always an excellent selling feature which I had to make him acquainted with. Together, with prices, technical literature and maintenance instructions, I stacked everything neatly on his desk and then decided to pay him a compliment.
‘You have a lovely cat, Ben! I’ve just played with it………’ But I didn’t get any further.
‘Oh, that bloody cat – drives me mad!’ Was his unexpected outburst.
‘But – it’s a lovely cat!’ Was my stunned utterance.
‘Well, you can have him.’ he acclaimed.
‘Why? Don’t you like cats?’ I jumped to its defence.
‘That bloody cat’, he repeated, ‘gets on my nerves…..I’m gonna get rid of him. Hangs around, costing me money, always wanting something………’
‘But it is a wonderful creature, a loving companion, a kind of partner……’ I found myself representing cats in general and that fluffy, furry creature I’d made friends with.
‘Take him with you! Go on, take him I can’t stand the sight of him anymore.’ His face reddened even more and his voice sounded very aggressive.
The arguments went back and forth for a while. Realising how long I had been with him and that it is never wise to upset a good customer, I stood up to bid my farewell. Trying to hide my hurt feelings I left his office.
Once outside his room, I found the cat was waiting for me. With its big amber eyes it looked so friendly and its fuzzy face was so lovable and trusting, my heart sank. ‘You poor creature’, I thought if only somebody would love you’. Then it started to show me the way to the entrance of the shop. Trotting ahead with its tail upright and looking back from time to time, it led me through the gigantic showroom and when we nearly reached the entrance, it jumped onto the same roll of carpet it had sat on before and looked at me encouraging. Naturally, I too, remembered what we had done before, so I stroked and tickled it and whispered sweet nonsense in its lovely ears. And it purred and licked my hand in rapture.
‘Hello Peter!’ One of Ben’s salesmen walked past and I had a desperate thought.
‘Do you want a cat, John?’
He looked surprised and taken aback.
‘Why would I want a cat?’
‘Ben wants to get rid of this lovely thing here. It needs a home!’
John sounded irritated: ‘He’s had that cat for years…..it wandered in one day and they have been together ever since.’
‘But he said he ….’
‘He never gets rid of him. He only talks funny’, John said, walking away and leaving me so relieved that I virtually floated out of this shop as if I’d gotten a very big order!