I work in a deli, and it involves a lot of nasty, deplorable work. The corporation alone (which shall remain nameless) can suck the living soul from your walking cadaver. My particular department makes the day even more maddening. Food service, customer service, and retail wrapped into a nice, miserable package.
The other night, I waited on a customer. It was an older gentleman who frequents the deli at least once a week, if not more. I recognized his face from previous encounters and had no grievances with him. This particular encounter, I was unabashedly agitated with the manner he used to get my attention (clucking one's tongue is not an acceptable way to announce your presence, for future reference).
But me and my spirit, which has not been entirely worn down for inexplicable reasons, forced that cheek-aching smile as I patiently took his rather gruff order. The transaction was made and the foodstuff was handed over.
Then the man shifted his weight to his other foot. Another customer, a woman had wandered in line behind him. But no, apparently my previous tardiness would not go unpunished. This man had something on his mind and he was going to share it with me, solicited or no.
He started, "You know I used to work back *there*, about ten years ago now."
I nodded with polite interest, unsure if he meant my department specifically or if he meant the store in general.
He continued, "Yep. Then I had foot surgery and my doctor told me I couldn't be on my feet all day. Then [Store Manager's Name] told me that they didn't have jobs available for someone to sit around all day. So I left. Quit. That was ten years ago. I've written eight books since then, six of which are published. You can buy them on Amazon and other stores."
This actually surprised me. I was excited. HERE was a fellow author in my small, rural community. What a miraculous godsend for me to receive this anecdotal lecture. Of all the people in the store, this man has shared his story with a fellow writer. And, not just any author, from the sound of it. If I'm not wrong, I believe this was a self-published author, judging from context clues.
A genuine smile came to my face while I pointed to myself. "I wrote a book too and I published it on Amazon about a month ago as well!" I informed him excitedly.
There was a perceptible change in his behavior and countenance, and not for the better I'm afraid. There was a definable moment when this man's bravado had completely vanished. He might have even physically stumbled back, eyes widening at me. Clearly he had not expected my response. Somehow my answer wounded his pride.
He quickly composed himself, regaining his self control, and proceeded as if I had not said a single word to him. "Yes well, I have published six books after leaving here ten years ago. Best damn decision in my whole life."
And with that, his story over, this man quite literally turned on his heel and marched off. I was left stung. This man, who was allowed to gloat of his accomplishments to me, could not even share in the joy of a fellow writer. He could only gloss over my accomplishments as he validated and appraised his own.
I reflected on the encounter some time after he had left, that night when I was lying in bed. The next morning, and even until now. Ignoring his manner completely, I can be genuinely happy at the success of another writer. I am. He did not detail to me of his sales and revenue, if he even made enough to earn a substantial living. His concern primarily rested in the number of works he had completed. I can respect that.
And I can draw from his experience as inspiration to my own. Some ten years ago, this man worked in the same or similar conditions as I do now. He made an effort to do something that makes him happy and he succeeded, unshackling himself from a societal structure that can only ensure depression and discontent. And it was the "best damn decision" in his entire life.
Perhaps this is a sign for me. Perhaps there is indeed hope for me. And how I would love to quit every educational and vocational responsibility I am currently obligated to complete and attend right now to write full time. Oh the books I could write and the happiness I could achieve.
But since I have only sold 24 books in a 32 day period, some would still insist that this was folly.
Perhaps, some day.
-krm
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