It's a Mixed Up, Muddled Up, Shook Up World...
Paula Bronstein. Getty Images.I was getting comfortable living in Barney's apartment on Pond St. and selling men's shoes at Filene's in Braintree, but the $96 take-home wasn't cutting it, and it took me longer than I expected to pay off Bernie's legal fees.
The three older men selling men's suits in my department were raking, selling coffin-ready suits to wealthy elderly men. I thought they were the highest-paid guys in the store until I talked with the guy selling European Suits in a separate department.
The clothing there was fashionable, high-end stuff that attracted a different clientele, one that was more willing to splurge on their clothing, most of whom had more than just expensive threads in their closets…
After Christmas returns ended, there was a lull, and the only people cruising the store were security.
I became friendly with the head of security, who was ex-military and looked the part with his short-cropped blonde hair and square jaw. One day, he took me on a tour of all the two-way mirrors and showed me where the hidden surveillance cameras were. He was proud of how he ran security and how much of the stealing and pilferage had been reduced on his watch.
There were three layers of security. The first layer consisted of uniformed security guards. The second layer watched the first, and the third layer remained invisible while watching everyone.
The guy selling European suits was short, around five foot six, thin, in his mid-thirties, with medium-length red hair gelled to one side. He was flamboyant, and his lifestyle choice never bothered me and, frankly, was none of my business. Larry told me he took home between $500 and $750 a week on commissions. I was shocked. I spent my days shoehorning expensive loafers on old men's smelly feet for under $100, and in an area of the store less than 100 feet from where Larry was raking…
One day, the rumor mill was buzzing. Security had been watching Larry closely. He was selling lots of high-end European suits to his friends and then writing them credits for suits that were never returned. He wasn't up to date on the three levels of security or the hidden surveillance cameras, and they had him on camera dead to nuts.
They gave him the option of resigning immediately and walking out the door to avoid prosecution, and he did. Part of the agreement included leaving his rolodex full of customers on his desk.
Filene's needed someone to fill in until they found Larry's replacement, and they asked me. I accepted the temporary position under the condition that if I took the job, I'd be paid on commission. I wanted the money Larry was making…
It was easy. Guys came in regularly, whipped out their credit cards, and didn't appear to have any spending limits. They didn't seem to mind that a new, young guy was running the department. In fact, judging by all the eyeballs on me, I got the idea they kinda liked it, and all the attention was making me a bit uncomfortable…
I did my job, and when I got new shipments of designer clothes, I opened up Larry's rolodex and called his A-list clients to let 'em know. I was selling as much as Larry did, sometimes more, and management loved it. They asked me to apply for the job, letting me know I was their first choice…
Halfway through the job interview, I had a change of heart. I wasn't sure I wanted to spend the rest of my life selling European suits in Filene's to Larry's A-list customers. So, I tried desperately to dissuade them from hiring me with short, unenthusiastic answers during the second half of the interview.
By the time I left the room, I was hoping I didn't get the job…
It's a mixed up, muddled up, shook up world…
To be continued…
*All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental…