Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Kossiwa Logan Writes A Short Story

I really enjoyed reading Ron Carlson Writes A Story. He took us through the process of writing a short story. That's what I'm going to do here. I've told you my process of writing and now I'm going to show you.

First I have an idea, which begins with a thought, an image, a memory, a word or phrase that I turn into a sentence.

There wasn't much to do today. As slow as it was, the manager let the girl at customer service go for the night. He told her to call her ride to come get her. I was in the process of putting more things in my cart to return to their proper shelves when Mr. Barkley told Tracy there wasn't enough work. I glanced at them, but the store manager was walking away and she was already dialing on her cell phone. I hated standing in the customer service box trying to think of something to do in between customers. Since they didn't need me up here for no, I finished filling my cart with items customers either returned or changed their mind about. I started in Infant Care.

I've always wanted to write my version of John Updike's A&P story. I'm hoping this is it. I've also always wanted to write a story based on working in retail.

It's been raining all day as if a storm was blowing through Georgia. I had to drive through it to work this evening for a four-hour shift. We closed at 9:30 and we're out five to fifteen minutes later depending on the ease or difficulty in setting the alarm. My co-workers, and me when I wasn't at customer service reshopped and Straightened the selves as fast as we could so we could be out the store and on our way home or to wherever as fast as possible. My four hour shift was actually a three-hour shift.

The beauty of a first draft is that you're just getting the story done. You're not figuring anything out. You're not trying to write anything, you're simply writing. You don't have to have a subject, but it is helpful.

I sorted out the items for the Infant Care section while standing near the Tommee Tippee bottles. I hated doubling back because I missed an item.

"Ma'am, do you work here?"

That question grated on my nerves. I'm wearing the same purple and khaki that every other employee wore. But, it was better to ask than to make an assumption. I glanced at her and smiled. She looked ready to have the baby any second.

My idea, as I said earlier, was to write a story based on working retail jobs. I enjoy talking to people. I enjoy the work when I'm staying busy. I might rewrite this to include a vendor I spoke to. She was so memorable to me.

Thursday, September 23, 2010

Customer Service

Tuesday, they came in the store, both with children in their shopping carts. The grandmother couldn't stop cooing at the baby that her son was pushing in the cart.

"Do you want to help us make another one," the father said, adding that he was trying to keep up with Kate and Jon Plus eight. I started to say something witty, not that I had anything witty in my head.

The mother laughed and said, "We don't need any more kids." There were two boys in her basket. She pushed it to the infant care section. The father followed with a shrug of his shoulders, as if he was serious considering his statement.

I told a co-worker about it because she was sitting at the baby registry counter and I wanted to know if she had heard him. She hadn't. I went back to standing in the customer service box and tried to forget what he said. There wasn't much to do. I organized the items to be returned to the shelves; the diapers and baby lotions and clothes. Nothing was returned damaged so I didn't need to look up the item on the computer and fill out a RGD form. I straightened the shopping carts and then straightened the sippy cups and drinking bottles with children's names and sayings such as spoiled, drama queen and pirate girl. I still couldn't get the father's statement out of my head but at least I was busy if the store manager came out of his office or the back of the house where he mainly worked. I wasn't leaning.

I sighed and looked around the near empty store. I was glad I had a job, even though I usually worked only one to two days a week and then only for four hours a day. I didn't think a teenager could live off of that and I wasn't a teenager anymore. I needed a better job.

I greeted guests as they came in the store. The company liked guest as opposed to customer.

One woman walked up the customer service box and asked where she could find mirrors to keep watch on the baby while driving. The family returned, but the mother pushed her shopping cart of two boys out of the store. She placed two bouncing balls on the counter and shook her head no at her husband and then continued out of the store. I was thinking I could prolong the conversation and call for back up.

"There's actually a new mirror, one that can be used at night as well as in the daytime," I said and then directed the customer to the aisle where she'd find the baby view mirrors.

Just get him out of the store quickly, I thought as I turned to ring up his bath tub, wash cloths and towel. I smiled at him and hoped I was being friendly and wasn't encouraging him. As I rang up each item, I kept thinking that at least I had a job in this lousy economy.

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Infant to Toddler

This is my job. I smiled at the customer as she left my line, pushing the cart that held her newborn baby and the two bags I just put in her cart.

"Have a nice day," I said though I preferred, have a good one, which I said every now and then. When I turned thirty, I couldn't pass a baby without wanting one of my own. It didn't matter that I didn't have a way of supporting myself. I just knew I wanted one. A few years later, I was okay to look at babies, because I knew I wanted something else.

A baby cried from somewhere beyond my view in the small store.
When I saw the store manager, I slipped my small pad of poetry lines in my front pocket and bent down to look through the blue container of items customers returned or brought with them to the register and changed their minds about. I arranged most of the items in shopping carts according to the section they belonged in. You had to look busy or they'll give you work and that wouldn't look good. And I wanted to keep my job, even as I pined for other things.

"Hi Dayla," Andrew, the store manager said as he walked into customer service.

"Everything's fine up here." I was glad that I took the time to clean off the counters and organize the diapers and clothes and toys.

"Looks good," Andrew said as he glanced around him and then got on the computer directly behind the two cash registers.

"Thanks," I said, thinking of the new poem I was going to read at open mike night this Saturday. It felt like I was doing better. I left customer service to straighten nearby items that customers went through since I last reorganized those items.

This is my job, I thought as another hour passed and customers came in the store to browse and then walk out. It was frustrating standing in this box. But at least I had my poetry. It meant I had something.

I imagined someone coming in the store and asking to see my writing.

I heard the doors swish open and quickly closed my mini composition notebook and stuffed and my pen in my front pocket.

"How are you? Can I help you find anything I can help you with?"
The woman walked passed me, continuing her conversation on her cell phone. She was pushing a cart with two young boys. A man, also pushing a car with two young boys and a baby in the seat attached to the handle bars. He grinned and said, "yeah, you can help us make another baby." He laughed while my eyes grew round. He started pushing his cart and I said, "You can't just say that to a person." But, he was already in an aisle.

I shook my head, I can't work here anymore. I shivered a little and waited for the moment to pass till I could look around for something to keep me busy, something that would have my managers smile to see me taking the initiative.

I shook my head and thought this would pass.

I assisted two customers before the man returned with his wife and their children. I closed my eyes and wondered how I could turn this into a piece of writing.

The man
despite his wife

He was putting his items on the counter before I could think of the third line.

"Did you find everything you were looking for?" He put a tub on the counter that he used to carry liquid bath soap, towels and wash cloths. "I'm surprised my wife didn't pick up more." We both saw her leave the store.

I ignored his leering eyes and started scanning his items, saving the tub for last. I kept my eyes on each item, only glancing at the computer screen, glad that he was cooing at his baby.

"He's cute," I said. I closed my eyes, wishing I hadn't spoke so quickly. But the baby was adorable.

"But what about the baby. Numbers can definitely tell--."

I interrupted him by telling him his total. Maybe this was a test since this didn't happen often.

He looked appologetic once the transaction was finished. "Gotta keep life exciting."

Not that way. I turned towards the store to see if there were any other customers approaching me. I pulled my notebook from my pocket and started writing a few lines for a possible poem. Possible lines to recite on stage at Speak With Coffee.

First Story Coming Soon

I'm working on a series of stories that I hope to post soon.