“Where’s Mr. Hoffman?” she demanded.
“He’s—” Theodore started to tell her that he was upstairs, but Micah cut him off.
“He’s unavailable. You’ll deal with me.”
“I don’t know who you are,” she objected.
“Who I am is of no relevance in a business transaction of this sort. You want something we have. You get it when you give me something we want: money. It’s very simple. Even a woman of your limited intellect should be able to grasp that.”
“What did you just call me?” she demanded. “I have never been treated so poorly by a shopkeeper in my entire life.” She turned and marched straight to the door into the Hoffman residence. Without even knocking she simply opened the door and entered, calling out, “Audrey? Audrey? Are you here?” Apparently she spotted Mrs. Hoffman because Theodore could hear a most animated conversation take place. He wasn’t sure, but he could have sworn that he also heard Mr. Hoffman’s voice as well.
Throughout the entire event, Micah stood resolute, with his nose thrust into the air, as if everything around him was somehow beneath him.
Maybe ten minutes after she had ascended the stairs to the Hoffman residence, Mrs. Smith came back down the stairs and marched straight out of the store.
As the afternoon wore on, Theodore’s patience with Micah grew steadily thinner. While Theodore worked, moving boxes, unpacking deliveries, helping customers, Micah did nothing other than stand and order him around. The end of the day could not come quickly enough for Theodore. Each time Micah gave him an order, Theodore felt his fists involuntarily clenching, as if to pummel the little despot.
“Boy,” Micah announced, which made the hairs on Theodore’s arms stand on end, “put these items back on the shelves where they belong.”
Theodore slowly turned toward Micah and stared at him.
“Didn’t you hear me, boy?”
“First, since you seem incapable of retaining this simple fact, I’ll tell you once again that my name is not ‘Boy’ but is Theodore, Theodore McCall. Second—” But his second point never got out of his mouth because Micah interrupted him.
“I do not give a good goddamn what your name is. You’re nothing more than some local hick with muscles. You have a job, and you are expected to do that job. I do not tolerate insubordination from the hired help.”
Theodore stood stock-still and stared at Micah. He put on a mask of neutrality, but inside he was seething with pure outrage.
Enough was enough. Theodore made the same trek Mrs. Smith had made. He was polite enough to knock, but when Mrs. Hoffman tried once again to dissuade him from speaking with her husband, he told her, “This is an urgent matter that cannot be delayed.” He pushed past her into the apartment and started to look for Mr. Hoffman.
“Mr. Hoffman!” he called, walking from room to room in search of his boss. “Mr. Hoffman.”
Theodore located Mr. Hoffman sitting in a rocking chair in a window in the front room of the apartment. The man must have known of Theodore’s presence but did not look toward him or acknowledge him.
“Mr. Hoffman. I’ve been a loyal employee of yours for close to three years now. In that time, I have done everything you’ve asked me to do and much more. I have never once refused a task. I have never once been late to work. I have always remained late when the situation required it or you asked me to do so, even though I have never been paid for any of those hours. In all the time I’ve worked here, I have never missed a single day of work. I have treated you and Mrs. Hoffman with the utmost of respect.”
Mr. Hoffman nodded, so Theodore knew at least that his words had been heard.
“I need to ask you, sir—what the hell is going on?”
Mr. Hoffman finally turned toward Theodore and looked at him. The man’s face was a portrait of unease. When he spoke, his voice was shaking slightly. “My nephew,” he started, slowly. Apparently he decided to change course. “My sister asked me to help her. Her son has been having difficulties holding on to a job.”
“Fine. But all he’s done today is to cause trouble and cost us business. Oh, and be unbelievably rude to absolutely everyone, me and our customers.”
Hoffman looked back out the window at the wintry scene in the outside world.
Without looking at Theodore, Mr. Hoffman apologized, “I’m so sorry, Theodore.”
“Thank you, sir. We need you downstairs if you hope to have any sort of a business left by the end of the day.”
He was quiet for a moment before telling Theodore, “I’ll be down shortly.”
“Thank you, sir. I’m sorry that you’re not feeling well. Is there anything I can do for you or get for you?”
“No. Thank you, though, Theodore. You have been one of the best hires I ever made.”
“Thank you, sir.” Theodore noticed that Mr. Hoffman had said those same words to him several times over the last few days, which was the first time he’d ever heard that sentiment expressed in the time he’d worked there.
Theodore returned to the store with a hint of a smile on his face. That smile was wiped away when the glare from Micah hit him from twenty feet away. With enough anger to turn his face red, Micah marched over to Theodore. “I told you that I will not tolerate insubordination. All I’ve received from you this day is exactly that, insubordination. I am recommending your immediate termination to my uncle. A business is only as good as the face we put forward to our customers and potential customers, and yours is most definitely not to my liking.”
Theodore actually chuckled as he heard Micah’s pronouncement. He was very nearly tempted to take his apron and throw it at Micah, and would have done so had not another customer entered the store at just that moment.
“Good afternoon, Theodore,” Mrs. Brown, a handsome middle-aged woman, greeted him.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Brown. How good to see you today. Is Mr. Brown feeling any better?”
“Oh, the poor old soul. He’s had a mighty tough row to hoe this winter, but I do believe he is finally on the mend.”
“Good. His cough is better?”
“Much. Thank you so much for asking.”
“Please tell him I was asking after him.”
“I—” Her words were abruptly cut off by Micah.
“You, work,” he ordered Theodore, using the absolute minimal number of words possible to convey his message.
“I am,” Theodore calmly answered him.
“How may I assist you, madam?” Micah asked without a hint of a smile.
“Theodore is helping me, thank you very much.”
“He has other duties to perform, which he is going to do presently,” he snarled at Theodore. “What can I get for you?”
“And who are you?” she asked.
“I am the proprietor. How may I assist you today?”
“Proprietor? Where’s Mr. Hoffman?”
“He is…. It doesn’t matter. Do you want something or not?” Micah demanded impatiently.
Theodore was cringing but almost gleeful on the inside as he watched Micah drive away yet another good customer. At least that time there were others in the store to observe. And if there was one thing country folk were good at, it was observing—and then talking with everyone about what they had observed. Everyone saw everything and knew everything, and Micah was giving them all quite a show that afternoon.
“I think I’ll wait for Mr. Hoffman, thank you very much,” she announced.
As she turned toward Theodore, she started to ask him, “Theodore, who—” But as anticipated, Micah was intent on…. Well, who knew what Micah was intent on.
“Boy, unpack that box this instant,” Micah ordered.
“His name is Theodore,” Mrs. Brown told Micah, who had not as yet done the common courtesy of providing her his name.
“The boy has work to do—that is, if he wants to keep his job.”
“He’s not a boy,” Mrs. Brown told Micah. “He’s a full-grown man. Too bad you aren’t one as well.”
>
“Get out,” Micah ordered her.
“Excuse me?” she asked, sure that she had misheard his words.
“I said get out,” he repeated, pointing toward the door.
“Micah!” Everyone present heard Mr. Hoffman loudly call his nephew.
“I’ll be there in a moment,” he responded without doing the courtesy of turning around to face his uncle.
“Not in a moment. Now,” he ordered.
“In a moment.”
And then Theodore heard something he’d never heard before. Mr. Hoffman got angry. He shouted the single word. “Now!” People standing a block away would have heard him had the doors and windows been open.
Micah turned, glared at his uncle, and paused. Finally he walked slowly toward Mr. Hoffman, and the two of them went upstairs. The door into the apartment slammed closed. Everyone present tried to hear what was being said upstairs. Voices were raised, that was evident, but unfortunately they were not able to distinguish one word from another.
A moment later, Mr. Hoffman came back downstairs and asked Theodore, “Please help the customers the best you can by yourself. I have other matters to tend to at the moment.”
Instantly Theodore was surrounded by people who all wanted to know the same thing: who was the nasty man? He answered the questions to the best of his ability but told everyone that he really didn’t have much information beyond that Micah was nasty and seemed to view himself with an exalted sense of self-importance.
He managed to fill a few orders, never seeing either Micah or Mr. Hoffman during the remainder of the afternoon. He didn’t understand any of what had been happening that day. At six o’clock, he closed the store, secured the cash, handled all of the closing tasks, and quickly exited the building by the back door, then locked the door behind him.
Chapter Seven—Bad News, Good News
THE NEXT day, Sunday, following early church service with his parents, Theodore helped his father with some maintenance work around their farm. The day sped by all too quickly, and before it seemed possible, it was once again Monday morning, and Theodore was making his way to the Hoffman store in the predawn hours. He had no idea what awaited him that day. It was one thing to simply be bored by his job and dislike it for that reason, but entirely another because of the uncertainty and just plain strangeness.
Many mornings when he arrived to work, Theodore found the shades raised and the fire already burning in the stove to warm the big space for the start of another workweek. That Monday, however, was like the previous workday on Saturday when he arrived first and took care of the tasks associated with preparing the store for opening.
At opening time, he heard footsteps on the stairs and turned to spy Mr. Hoffman and Micah walking down the stairs together.
“Good morning, Theodore,” Mr. Hoffman greeted him. Micah remained quiet until his uncle discreetly gave him an elbow to the ribs. Theodore saw the look of disdain pass quickly over Micah’s face before he masked it as he turned to Theodore.
“Good morning, Mr. McCann,” Micah said.
“McCall,” Theodore corrected.
He was fairly sure he heard Micah mutter, “I do not care.”
Sensing he had the upper hand, Theodore decided to push the situation just a trifle. “And what is your name, Micah?”
Micah looked at him, his mask of indifference slipping momentarily to show the annoyance that lurked just below the surface. After seeming to go through some sort of internal debate, Micah gave him a one-word answer. “Taylor.”
“Micah Taylor.”
“Yes.”
“Very good.”
That day and the next were busy. Wednesday, the final day of 1902, was nothing special, but Thursday would be the first day of a brand-new year. On Wednesday afternoon, New Year’s Eve, Mr. Hoffman and Micah spent several hours huddled around account books at a big table in the back of the store. Theodore handled the store quite well on his own. He couldn’t hear what the two in the back were discussing, but they were intent on whatever they were working on that day.
When they surfaced at about four that afternoon, Micah was looking extraordinarily upbeat, but Mr. Hoffman was looking decidedly unhappy. They returned the account books to the front counter, and then both disappeared upstairs for a few minutes. They returned soon thereafter, but the mood was decidedly strained in the final hours before closing. At six when Mr. Hoffman locked the doors and drew the shades on the front windows, Theodore hung his apron and reached for his coat.
“Not yet,” he heard Micah say sharply.
“Excuse me?” Theodore said, turning, not sure what the message was intended to convey.
“You’re not going anywhere yet.”
“I beg your pardon,” Theodore said, not believing his ears.
Mr. Hoffman walked slowly back toward the counter. “Micah, there is no call for such rude behavior. Have you not heard anything I’ve been trying to teach you?”
“You do it or I will. I have no problem with the idea.”
“With the idea of what?” Theodore inquired.
“Theodore,” Mr. Hoffman started, slowly. “You’ve been one of the best clerks I’ve ever had in all the years I’ve been running this store.”
“Thank you, sir. It is my pleasure to work beside you and to learn from the best.”
Theodore was concerned when he saw Mr. Hoffman’s gaze drop to the floor. He was quiet for a moment.
Micah huffed with obvious impatience. “Very well, I’ll do what my uncle seems incapable of doing. Your services are no longer required. Your employment here is terminated effective immediately. Remove anything personal you have with you when you depart. I will of course have to inspect anything you attempt to remove from the premises to be sure that you’re not stealing from us.”
Theodore was outraged but did his level best to hide his surprise and his unhappiness. “Micah, go fornicate with a donkey and leave the adults to talk.”
Micah was not nearly as efficient at keeping his temper in check as Theodore was. He cursed and railed at Theodore, who stood placidly and let him say whatever was on his mind, immature as it was. When Micah started to run out of steam, Theodore turned to Mr. Hoffman and asked, “Please explain to me the cause of your dissatisfaction with my performance. It would have been the gentlemanly thing to provide me with some advance notice of your unhappiness so that whatever is wrong could have been rectified. I am surprised by this behavior from such an able businessman as yourself.”
“Allow me to show you the door,” Micah started.
“Micah, go upstairs and leave us alone,” Mr. Hoffman ordered.
“I think not.”
“That wasn’t a request,” Mr. Hoffman added, a move that appeared to surprise Micah. Micah didn’t budge but stood with his arms crossed over his chest. Mr. Hoffman stared at him and pointed toward the stairs. Once Micah was gone, Mr. Hoffman turned to Theodore and offered his explanation, such as it was.
“I’m terribly sorry, Theodore. You have been a wonderful employee.” He sighed. “But circumstances have changed. My sister has sent her son to me in an effort to try to teach him some responsibility. He is… well, there isn’t enough profit from the store for me to be able to afford two clerks.”
“So keep me. I know what I’m doing. All Micah has demonstrated this week is that anything he does is contrary to the efficient operation of a business. The man lacks even the most rudimentary skills required to interact with customers. Dismissing me and hiring Micah will lead to the destruction of your business, of everything you’ve worked so hard to build.”
“Sadly, it is my task to try to teach him how to overcome himself and his nature and to be an effective businessman.”
“I’m not sure anyone can accomplish that given the raw material you have to work with,” Theodore observed.
“Perhaps you are right. I am so terribly sorry, Theodore. You deserve far better treatment, and I hope you can see it in your heart to forgive me. I feel trapped i
n a horrible situation and do not see another way forward.”
“I expect to be paid for the days I’ve worked—now. And I assume that my loyalty to you, my dedication to you, will be appropriately compensated with some sort of severance pay to hold me over until I can find alternative employment, although I am not sure what that might be. I don’t know of anyone in town who is hiring at the moment.”
Mr. Hoffman had clearly not thought about the need to pay Theodore, nor of the idea of paying him any type of severance, but as soon as the idea was on the table he raised no argument that it was the most suitable course of action. Behind the counter, he opened the cash register and counted out some money, then handed it over to Theodore.
“With my apologies,” he offered, “here is your salary for the month of December.” He counted some more and handed that amount over to Theodore as well. “And this is to help tide you over until you find alternate employment.” Theodore took it, surprised to find the amount exceeded what he would have anticipated.
“I need one more thing,” Theodore stated, pocketing the money.
“Yes?”
“I would like a letter of reference from you as to the quality of my work while in your employ, my dedication to the store and to you and your family, along with your recommendation for prospective employers to hire me.”
“Of course. Would you be so kind as to draft such a letter?” he asked. “You were always so much more capable with words than I.” Theodore grabbed a piece of paper and quickly wrote a letter that he felt would not overstate things but would convey to a future employer that he was a hardworking young man.
Mr. Hoffman read the letter and nodded his approval. He grabbed a piece of letterhead from his desk, copied the letter onto letterhead, and added his signature. He folded the letter and placed it in an envelope and handed it over.
“Please forgive me, Theodore. You deserve far better than how I am treating you.”
Theodore said nothing but nodded, reached out and shook hands with Mr. Hoffman, and made his final exit from the store.
As he started the walk toward home from work that New Year’s Eve, Theodore’s mind was racing. Was this the end of life as he knew it? Most likely yes. Was that a bad thing? At first he was of the firm opinion that yes, it was absolutely a terrible thing, the worst possible thing.
A Night at the Ariston Baths Page 5
