I was straightening the hangers on the racks when Harvey lurched past, clipboard clutched tightly in his claws. He skidded to a halt, looking at something. The hair tufts around his ears bounced around in a nonexistent breeze.
‘Valletta.’ he said.
‘Yes Harvey.’
‘How long have these end displays been up?’ he asked, staring at the outfits hanging on the ends of the racks.
‘Um.’
‘They need to be changed, at minimum, bi-weekly.’
‘OK.’ I said. ‘So, every two weeks.’
He stared at me. ‘No.’ he said. ‘Twice a week. Bi. Weekly.’
‘Oh,’ I said. ‘I thought bi-weekly meant every other week.’
He let out a long breath as if this was very beneath him. ‘It means twice a week. Twice in one week. Bi, meaning two; weekly, meaning weekly. Bi-weekly.’
‘How foolish of me.’ I said.
‘Simple mistake.’ he allowed.
‘And how often do we get paid here at Taggs?’
‘Paid?’ he asked, appearing confused by the seeming change in topic. ‘Bi-weekly.’
I stared at him. He closed his mouth. ‘I want these changed twice a week.’ he said.
‘Sure, alright.’ I said, looking at the display hanging there. ‘Like this, only different, right?’
‘Whatever seems appropriate at that moment. That's why we made you head of Children’s Clothing.’
‘Oh. Head ... I didn't realize.’ I said, trying to remember if anyone had mentioned anything about me being head of a department. Surely that position had to earn more than standard minimum wage?
He walked away and I began to strip the end displays of their clothing. For the better part of the next hour I put together a lame beach display. It would have looked more filled out with a beach ball or something.
‘What's this?’ That was Harvey, standing behind me.
‘New display.’ I said. ‘Day at the beach theme. I think it would seem more filled out with a beach ball or something. They sell them next door for about a dollar.’
‘No.’ he said. ‘No.’
‘No?’
‘No. Nothing goes in the display that we don’t sell here. It’s to advertise our merchandise, you know?’
‘Yeah.’ I said. ‘Makes sense.’
He lurched off, and I wandered over to giftware. ‘Hey Byron.’ I said. He looked up from the book section where he was reading a volume on the history of Playboy magazine. ‘Hm?’
‘I need something beachy for a display.’
He looked at me. ‘Beachy?’
‘Beach like.’
‘Oh.’ he said, then thought for a few moments, or at least did a reasonable facsimile of looking like he was thinking. ‘I don’t think we have anything.’
‘Mind if I snoop around?’
‘Have at it. But we don’t have anything that could work. I guarantee it.’
‘Well, maybe I’ll find something.’ I said, then winked at him. ‘I think abstractly.’
I began to wander down the aisles of his department, looking over the assorted knick knacks and bric-a-brac. He followed me closely. ‘You paint?’ he asked.
‘I dabble.’ I lied.
‘Abstracts?’
‘All stracts.’
That shut him up for a bit.
‘What about this?’ I asked. I held up a bucket, made of what looked like old brass.
‘What about it?’
‘It’s a bucket.’ I said.
‘Yeah.’
‘Can I use it?’
‘Why do you want that?’
‘It’s a bucket.’ I repeated.
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘So?’
‘I need something beachy. Buckets are beachy.’
‘That bucket doesn’t look too beachy.’ he said.
‘Buckets evoke the beach.’ I said. ‘It doesn’t matter if it’s a kid’s plastic bucket. Buckets make people think of the beach.’
‘That looks like the type of bucket someone would sit under a hole in a roof.’ he said.
I looked at him. ‘Is that how you sell it to people?’
‘I don’t sell it to people. If people want a bucket, they’ll look for it and buy it.’
I stared at Byron. He had no business working in giftware. ‘Can I use the bucket?’ I asked. He shrugged aggressively.
‘Take it!’ he said.
I wandered back to Children’s with the bucket and hung it off the side of one of the hooks. Never before had a display of discount children’s clothing looked more beachy. I could almost smell the salt in the air. Or maybe it was mildew.