Two childhood friends sat on a run-down apartment patio on a warm summer evening. There had been a lull in their reacquainting conversation.
“Hey Jane, so Samuel and I were looking through some old stuff, to you know, downsize and stuff, and well, I have these boots I never wore that might be worth some money. If you want to sell them, we could split it. I think they should be worth at least $100… Interested?”
“Hi! Have you sold with us before?”
Jane had walked into an upscale consignment store in the heart of Eville and immediately felt uncomfortable. She had dressed a little nicer, like she was interviewing, instead of her usual drab attire, but it was like walking into a special boutique.
“No, I haven’t.”
The saleswoman pointed from the far end of the small shop, overfilled with designer clothes, shoes, and accessories, to the counter with a hand-drawn sign exclaiming “sell here.” Jane placed the box containing the designer boots just after she ran across the shop.
“Oh! These are so cute!”
“Thanks.” “Yeah, we sell these a lot! So let’s get you into the system, and have a looksie at your photo ID, and then lemme look em over, and I can probably have an offer over to you in about 10 to 20 minutes. Do you want to get a coffee and come back or should I call you?”
“Sure, I’ll wander back in 20.”
She took a quick look at some of the clothes on the way out. There was a nice jacket that might look good for interviews. It was overpriced by at least $40 but might be worthwhile with her recent string of bad luck with interviews. ‘Let’s think about it a little later…’
The Eville city air was smoggy as usual.
The walk around town was nice. She hadn’t been to this part of Eville before, but her friend Sammohini told her about the place, saying that she bought and sold stuff there before. It was nice. There were fancy hotels, expensive restaurants, plenty of greenery everywhere.
It was probably time to head back.
She wondered what else she could sell. Maybe some old books or music tapes laying around the apartment? She didn’t really have much else of value besides her guitars, amps, and a few computers that she got for practically free on a large project at her last computer job.
She arrived back inside in about 15 minutes.
“Oh, it’s you. I can give you no more than $14.” The expression on the once-bubbly saleswoman’s face, maybe an early 20s college student working odd hours, was mildly annoyed. “Huh.” “Yes, that’s all.” “No, thanks.” “OK, well, you have yourself a good day.”
She collected the box and left.
“Yeah, it was weird. Embarrassing, actually. She was only willing to pay $14.” “I’m so sorry I put you through that! They’re normally super nice! Let me buy you a nice dinner for your troubles. Or you can have them… they’re your size!”
“Don’t worry about it.”
|Sources: My personal experiences.|
|Inspirations: Sammohini and Jane are becoming more dichotomically representative of how people can earn money in life. Sammohini’s the high-stress, high-dollar career professional and Jane’s the low-stress, low-dollar gig worker. In order to perpetuate that idea, there has to be some economic difference.|
|Related: Somewhere in the Sammohini Arc of “The Story.”|
|Doodle: I’ll let you in on a secret. While I enjoy drawing and visual artistry on occasion, if I could get an occasional artist to outsource visuals, I could be much more efficient.|
|Written On: June 4th|
|Last Edited: June 6th|