I have not yet mentioned Mr. Pearl, the stockroom supervisor, shipping (he preferred to call it “traffic”) coordinator, keeper of the inventory, and he who answered to Art Adventures’ purchasing agent. Mr. Pearl had a sad little desk, about as big as a minute, as simple people were wont to say in “a more innocent time” (see: Second World War, the Holocaust, Korean “police action,” etc.). On this lugubrious surface, he marshaled his inventory records, daily-order forms, back-order memoranda, pens, pencils (red, green, blue), erasers, and scarred wooden ruler. And off it he ate his lunch, a homely, unassuming, and pedestrian sandwich, a nice piece of fresh fruit, and a pint of milk, the last wrapped in wax paper in the superstitious belief — daily disproved — that this helped keep the milk cool. He was, one might say, a sap. And from the vantage of this handkerchief-sized desk, he looked kindly upon young Stewie, and why? As if you didn’t know! Because he had once been just like young Stewie. Yea, even unto his sweaty face and dingy cardigan.
Bill, poor Bill, then made the classic yet banal mistake, common enough among all lowly and callow employees, of appealing the irrational decisions of the corporal-mind to a higher, and supposedly saner authority. (May I digress for a moment? Ho! Ho! Ho!) Or, as Felix put it when Bill told him of his intentions, You must have shit for brains, coño. Cruel yet clear-eyed Felix. Mr. Pearl, seated at his toy desk, a partially destroyed baloney-and-American-cheese sandwich before him on a white handkerchief somewhat drearily adorned with a frayed, faded, embroidered “P” in an infirm pale green, his hands, shiny and grimy with charcoal dust from the drawing pencils he had personally unpacked that morning, resting on the Mirror, looked at Bill. Then he spoke:
Stewie is your boss just like I am, your boss, and when Stewie talks I, talk, it’s like I talk you unnastan, but, different but, like a, second boss so do as you’re told and you’ll you’ll, get along cause one hand washes, the other am I correct or, am I correct, you ain’t like the, other gazabo, the Spanish, Spanish boy from the reform, school you don’t want to be like, him, from Harlem, is he, Spanish, you’re not, Spanish are you, no offense, I get along, with all kinds of, all people, ask Stewie, Porto Rickans, the colored, ask Stewie, but you, you want to be, a real man, a mensch like they say in Jewish, like Stewie like, me, a man with a wife some day you can look up at a clean fine, American sort of a young lady, you’re a pretty clean-cut, fellow, clean-cut sort, a veteran if I’m right well, we can’t all be veterans, look at, me, look at, Stewie, I was believe it or, not, I was just, like, Stewie once upon a time, can you, believe it, can you believe it, can you, but that young fellow hasn’t found the girl of his dreams yet, but the girls, upstairs, in the office, they all, all, they like him, don’t, get, me, wrong, I’m not inferring that he don’t like the, girls, no, he just reminds, me, a lot, a lot of myself when I was first starting out on my first job as a messenger, in the garment, yes, the business, remnants, and now as you, see, as you can see, now I wear the white shirt, you see, what, I mean, the, white, shirt, the white shirt, if you wanna wear the white shirt you, gotta, I always say to Stewie, you got, to, and let me say it, to you, you got, to, keep your nose clean and get along, all kinds, I don’t care coloreds, Spanish persons, one hand, washes, you know, the other, Stewie knows this, oh yes, where his bread is buttered what, side it is, the hands washing, uh-huh, he’s got, his, eye on the white shirt, I tell him like a, son, I tell, Stewie you got your eye on, right, the white, right, ha ha, don’t you, and Stewie just, well, smiles, because I know his, plans, his, I was just like Stewie once can, you believe, believe it, can you, now, look at the desk, my personal desk, the pens and pencils, the white, shirt, the white, right, pens, pencils, my phone, look, you should know you, should unnastan, soon when I go, upstairs, upstairs, soon, Stewie will, be, Stewie will have, this, this will be, his desk, with the daily orders the white, yes, the white shirt, yes indeedy, the tie, the white, uh-huh, so keep your nose, clean, don’t be a wise-guy nobody, not nobody, likes a wise-guy vet, we can’t all be, no, or like that spick from the penitentiary, with a chip on, somebody will, oh yes, knock, it, off, we can’t all, for instance, you’re not Spanish, are you, no offense, we couldn’t all, all be, take Stewie who tried to join the Army, we can’t all be, or sit around in the penitentiary, living off, you know, the taxpayers, look at Stewie, who, tried, who tried to join, the Army the, Marines, but his asthma his, flat feet his, punctured ear, adenoids, some family, you know, problems out in Queens, astigmatic, an astigmatic condition, the National Guard, we’re not, all, so lucky, no, can’t all run away from obligations, join, the Army the, you know, jail, no, so you shelve the poster, the paints, like Stewie asks he’s, got, his, methods, they’re good, remember the white shirt if you got, sort of problems, am I right, am I right, am I or am I not, right, you bet your gosh-darn life I’m right, now go, take your lunch take, you got an extra, six, minutes, go ahead and, take my, advice, stay away from that shtarker, thug, that, Felix from up in Harlem, I hate, to, say it but, they’re all animals up, jabbering in Porto Rickan in, God knows what, language, like monkeys with the knives and, the guns, so keep your nose clean if you, want to get, to move up on, you know, the, ladder, like Stewie, he was nobody just, like, you a couple years, ago, a nothing you hear me.
Bill was fired a couple of weeks later for manifesting what the personnel director of Art Adventures termed “a negative attitude.” He disappeared soon after. Mr. Pearl “went upstairs,” to assist the purchasing agent of Art Adventures. Six years later, he died in the men’s room. Stewie took his desk when he left, wore the white shirt, and then he, too, “went upstairs,” leaving his job to one Carl Sheldon. He is still there, dumb as ever. Felix was last known to be working as an orderly at Flower Fifth Avenue Hospital. He is married with four daughters.
Up and Running Smooth as Silk
T. Lawless, Branch Manager: Loquitor
It’s too warm in here. Close the door. It’s too goddamned cold. Open the door. Fix the air conditioner. It’s stuffy as hell. Turn up the heat. Leave the air conditioner alone. Have a cigar. Fix the copying machine. Fix the light. Help the salesmen with anything they want. Let’s see your legs. Put out that cigarette. Let’s have some lunch. Fix the door. Get the orders out toot sweet. Unload that truck. Tell your wife you’ll be late. What’s this. What’s that. Cross your legs. Open the air conditioner. Don’t piss all over the floor. Call the main office right now. Have a smoke. Always bring in the new stock first. Put the stationery over there. Put the machines over here. Put the machines over by the stationery. Put the stationery over by the machines. Put the machines and the stationery where I tell you. Get me a Coke. Who told you to order this many lightbulbs. Put a tie on for Christ sake. Labels OUT, always. Leave that pallet there. Leave that pallet by the elevator. Close the door and lock it. Ship the machines now, now, right now. Go fuck yourself. Don’t do what the salesmen want. Come in this weekend. Where’s the skid. What’s a flat. Turn out the window. Close the bathroom. Wash the windows. Close the heat. Take off that goddamned tie. Take off your dress. Take off your cigar. Green here, red there, red here, green there, blue there, white there, black there, no there, there, THERE. Ship the fucking air conditioner. Put the heat on the shelf next to the stationery. Open your blouse. What do you mean no room. Repair the door. Where is your eraser. Nice cross. Where is your pencil. Where’s my pen. Where are yesterday’s orders. Ship all the inventory. Forget the paperwork. Come in early tomorrow. Ignore the heat. It’s too sunny. Put up the blinds by the cigar. Close the drapes. Bend over. It’s too noisy. It’s too quiet. I’ve got nothing against those people. Get my white shirts out of the Chink laundry. Don’t hang around the salesmen. Don’t hang around the stockroom. Don’t come near my office. Deliver the mail to every single goddamned desk. Pick up all the mail all the time. Who told you to pick up the machines. Shovel the snow off the sidewalk. Stack the doors next to the heat. Move the cigars. Put your bra back on. Don’t think you’ll drink the cocktails. Keep your nose clean. Open the salesmen. Ignore the secretaries. Don’t talk to the ups man. Don’t talk to the mailman. Don’t hang out with those goddamned truckers. Don’t worry about every little thing in the inventory. Why doesn’t my pen work. Send back the heat. What do you mean back ordered. Close your blouse. Close your skirt. Pull up your panties. Let sleeping dogs lie. Fix the office. Fix this. Fix that. Fix the salesmen. Who told you to wear a tie. Scrub the floor. Unclog the sink. Unclog the drain. Unclog the clog. Stock your skirt. Red the cabinet. Open the keys. Buy some pencils and Danish. Make the blue. Make the coffee. You’ll drink water. No sugar on the orders now or ever. Put your slip on the shelf right here, no here, no there, no here, put it back on. Shut your mouth. Get my wife on the phone. Get that mockie bastard Mr. Pearl on the phone. Get the phone fixed. Cross the green out, no, the red out, no, the air conditioner. Put the files in your socks. It’s too damn comfortable in here. No white shirts, no white shirts, goddamnit, no white shirts in the fucking stockroom. Don’t eat lunch in here. Don’t eat lunch in there. Don’t eat lunch over there. Who said you could eat lunch now. No radios in the stockroom. Don’t ever wear that old OD shirt in here again. Who hired that guinea whore. Get Sven Bjornstrom on the phone, the crazy Swede bastard. Touch me there, yes, there, and now here. It’s too warm in here, sultry, close, no, it’s too hot. Fix the vent or whatever you call it. And also the air conditioner goddamn door machine right fucking now immediately. And tell your troubles to Jesus you little faggot prick.