Now Hiring: Woman With A Heart

As I have said before in a previous blog or two, as a child and teenager, I suffered from low self-esteem.

Coming from a lower-income family I didn’t have the leather high top tennis shoes, skinny belts, large collection of designer jeans, double-breasted shirts or baggies (aka “parachute pants”) that were popular back then. I wore casual pants, button down shirts and suede shoes.

I did not have the good looks or masculine physique, at least not like that of a typical male teenager. I was skinny and bug-eyed, unable to do 25 pushups if you paid me.

It didn’t help at all when my mother passed through the living room one day and saw me sitting with my red hoodie pulled up over my head. She jokingly told me that I looked like E.T. (the extra-terrestrial).

Although she didn’t mean anything hurtful by it, simply referencing the movie character, famous for his creepily charming looks and yes, a hood on his head – that casual jab struck deep. I was in 4th grade when she said it. I pretended to join in with my friends as they all erupted into laughter.

My older sister and I also took shots at each other from time to time about our features. And although it meant little to her, I don’t think she ever knew that calling me “Donald Duck” and “duck lips” only added to my chronic psychological discomfort.

As I grew older, I didn’t worry much about my looks, but I’d be lying if I said that all the attention my buddies got from the girls didn’t sting from time to time. But again, it didn’t matter. In fact, it wasn’t until after one particular incident in high school that I decided I would focus more on what was INSIDE of me than out.

But that was then.  Fast forward to my college years…

---

Tallahassee, Florida, 1988

I’ve mentioned in other tales that many of my adventures happened while working at Governor’s Square Mall. I was recruited by the store manager to be her assistant after she had noticed me in action as a sales associate at the now defunct Service Merchandise department store.

She left a few months after hiring me and insisted that I replace her as the store’s manager. And just like that, without warning, I was running things – eventually hiring my own crew.

Not having many financial responsibilities beyond my 25% of the rent with three other people, utilities, and food, my money was my own. I intended to save it for returning to school at Florida A&M (FAMU), but like many foolish young men, the ability to buy the things I wanted was a bit too alluring.

The city bus system was my car, taking me anywhere I needed to go during the day, so all I focused on was buying music and the stylish clothes we wore, at an insane manager’s discount.

And believe me, I loved our clothes.

Of course, as much as I thought that “clothes made the man”, looking sharp meant nothing when guys with real money came through my store. Especially the athletes from both FAMU and Florida State University. People like FSU star “Neon” Deion Sanders — a mega-athlete in three different sports.

And then there was one star from FAMU’s football team who frequented my store, always with two or three breathtaking women on his hip. I’ll call him Luke (as always, names are changed to protect the not-so-innocent). He was a tall, extremely well-built young man with rugged, handsome features. It was unquestionable how he always hooked the ladies.

Every time I saw him, all I could do was envy him and everything about him: his looks, his wealth, his smoothness and yes, his ladies.

One day, he came into my store with a shorter girl, about 5′ 2″, walking slightly behind him, carrying their shopping bags. As he said his usual hello to me and inquired about the latest and greatest, I tried my best to give him 100% of my attention, but it was damn-near impossible. He had with him arguably the most beautiful girl I had ever seen in my life.

Everything about her was perfect. Not a curly hair on her head was out of place. Those inviting eyes, sexy lips, wild curves. Even her hoop earrings and glasses were spot on.

She gave me a tantalizing smile before turning around to look for clothes for her man. I was working by myself at the time, since my buddy and roommate Daryl (I WILL use HIS real name) was on break. So, I did my best to take care of him, her, and the other shoppers with nothing but her on the brain.

As I finished ringing up one of my customers, I thanked her for her purchase just as Luke called out “Later, man!” in the distance, leaving with his trophy companion who glanced back and smiled again, saying not a word.

Even the woman in my presence looked at her with widened eyes before mentioning how she wished she had that body. I told her that I wished I had it too as we laughed together.

“But trust me,” I finished. “You ain’t got nothin’ to worry about yo’ SELF!”

I didn’t expect any particular response. I was just comfortable saying what I wanted to say, as long as it was respectful. I was no longer that kid, worried about telling a woman that I found her attractive. In fact, I knew by this point that if I didn’t say anything, I’d only end up missing out on the possibilities.

And why not say something? They damn sure weren’t flocking to me. But that was ok.

“Ain’t you sweet?” she giggled as she turned and walked towards the store entrance.

As she exited, she brushed by Luke’s girl, who re-entered and strode gracefully, directly to my counter, eyes on me the entire time. She was back.

“May I have an application?” she asked.

I froze.

“May I have an application?” she repeated herself, smiling.

Shake it off, Kenny.

“An a-ap-plication?” I stammered.

“For employment,” she confirmed with a soft, but confident voice. Sexy as hell.

Without answering, I reached beneath the countertop, bumping my outstretched fingers into everything but the pile of applications, hand shaking uncontrollably. Not once did I remove my gaze from her.

If ever there was a time to look desperate and ignorant, I was taking full advantage of it.

After retrieving the document, I fought to steady my hand before raising it into view and handing it to her.

“Thank you. Can I bring it back Sunday? You’re the manager, right?”

“No. I’m the manager.” I replied ridiculously as she paused then laughed, realizing what I had said.

“Good. I’ll be back Sunday. When is the best time to talk to you?”

It was all I could do to keep from jumping over the counter, swooping her up and shouting, “I love you! I want to marry you and have a family of 4 sets of twins that all look like you! I’ve got to have you! I don’t give a damn. I’ll stab your man with my memo spike, right in the jugular!”

I didn’t say a word.

She stood there quietly, awaiting my answer.

“Noon is good,” I fumbled out of my tightly pressed lips, hoping to keep my lower lip from touching my belt buckle.

“I’m Sheryl,” she introduced, extending her well-manicured hand to shake mine. I moved quickly, but subtly, wiping my sweaty palms on my pantleg, out of view. It was a good thing I was standing on the opposite side of the counter because I didn’t want her to see my pants anyway.

Because, well, you know…

“I’m Kenny,” I responded successfully. Recovering a small semblance of cool as she turned and walked away. I intentionally looked in the other direction so as to not get caught staring like a total idiot. When I finally looked back in her direction, just a part of her body could be seen disappearing from view.

It didn’t matter what her background was. I wouldn’t have cared if she had been fired from every job she’d ever had for repeated absences and stealing company products. I was going to hire that woman. What did I care about having a full staff and no reason to hire any additional people?

---

Sunday

Although our store specialized in trendy gear, I chose to wear one of my ensembles from one of our other companies in the Edison Brothers chain, the semi-formal J. Riggins store, just down the hall. I was originally going to wear a full suit, which I did often, but I decided not to overdo it. A neatly pressed shirt, tie, and suspenders were enough. Although I did dash back over to J. Riggins to get a more professional-looking tie, I put it on as I purchased it.

“How do I look?” I asked Belinda, one of the salesgirls I had gotten to know quite well over time.

“You look fine. Hot interview?” Belinda asked, laughing hard.

“You need to stop.” I playfully reprimanded as I left, checking my watch.

11:40. Twenty minutes.

My store was a 20-second stroll away, so I knew I had time for a last-minute once-over. What was most important was that I had already added a mild mist of Perry Ellis Elite cologne. My signature scent. I was always surprised that it wasn’t a huge seller. In fact, it was relatively unknown. But that served to my advantage. Who wanted to smell like Calvin Klein or Drakkar or some other men’s fragrance that the ladies knew and were very tired of?

I entered the store only to stop in my tracks, recognizing her from behind. It was Sheryl, standing at my counter.

“You’re early,” I said, voice cracking. “Would you like to talk now or are you shopping?”

She smiled, that gorgeous smile, answering, “If you’d like, we can go now, or I can wait, if you need some time. I AM early.”

“No, we can go now. I usually take my candidates to Wendy’s. It’s a comfortable setting and we won’t be distracted by the crowd outside. We just got a shipment, so the back room is pretty cramped. You ok with Wendy’s? My treat.”

I wasn’t lying. I did use Wendy’s as an excuse to get something to eat whenever I had an interview.

“Sure.”

We left the store and made our way down to the food court. Along the way, we passed J. Riggins and a smirking salesperson named Belinda who I shot an evil glare at as she laughed triumphantly.

Once we ordered our food and found a place to sit, I told her we could just enjoy our meals for a couple of minutes before I began.

20 minutes, some small chit chat and one refill later, I was telling her what I was looking for in an employee and what hours I initially needed her to cover. She sat quietly, leaning on the table with a motionless smile, locked into my every word.

I felt a tad uncomfortable; it seemed she was staring, not really hearing a word I said.  Part of me wanted to excuse myself and check the bathroom mirror for lettuce in my teeth.

To mix things up, I decided to turn it over to her.

“So, tell me a little bit about yours-“

“Can I be honest?” she boldly interrupted, making me pause. “I really don’t want a job.”

I sat silently, looking conspicuously perplexed. I searched for words…

“Then why did y-“

“I just wanted an excuse to get to know you,” she said abruptly, cutting me off again.  “I think you’re fine as hell.”

I sat there. Motionless. Wordless. Thoughtless.  Unable to comprehend how a woman so beautiful could be at all interested in me. That low self-esteem thing at work again.

She took a slight sip from her straw, staring at me.  She sat quietly as well, allowing for feedback. 

I had nothing.

When I say we sat there, eyes locked for a good minute, that is no exaggeration.

“My God. You are so beautiful!” I exclaimed unashamedly.  She smiled again, saying nothing.  I didn’t care how stupid I sounded. I wanted to ask her about Luke, but I elected not to. This was my moment. OUR moment. Despite the fact that I hadn’t the slightest clue what to do with it.  Never before had such an amazing woman said anything remotely close to what I had just been told.

I would later learn that she and Luke weren’t together, for reasons I can’t remember.  I do remember that she didn’t like being shown around like she was HIS trophy. It was also revealed to me that she had asked about me at the Baden Baden trinket shop next door, in the time between the day I first saw her and that Sunday.  This is how she knew that although I dated around, I didn’t have anyone serious.

“Would you like to go out with me tonight, Kenny?”

I continued my silence as she offered me a sip from her refilled fountain drink, ignoring the fact that I held my own.

I drank.

And we did go out.  I came up with an excuse to my roommate for not going to Sunday evening church service, not caring at all that I had lied.

We went out again the following evening, then the next.  She even took me with her to see a random high school football game in Thomasville, Georgia, her hometown that Friday night. And what was the greatest part about that outing, as well as the afterparty we attended? SHE was latched on to ME, every minute, every second. In fact, the way she introduced me to people, I felt as if “I” was the trophy piece.

Her trophy piece.

And that was just fine with me.

She later surprised me by taking me out one night to live out my “dream date” scenario, a late night in Tom Brown Park, complete with sleeping bags. It was a warm, autumn evening and we spent it in a remote area, hidden from passersby and the police, under the trees.

It was during that time that she told me what she found most attractive about me: my lips and my eyes.  Funny how times change.

We talked, kissed, and just enjoyed each other’s company, even when the rain finally fell.

Another fantasy made real.

But I’ll keep that part to myself.

Weeks later, she showed up at my apartment on Thursday morning, Thanksgiving. Knowing that my roommate was in Denver for the week, she made it clear that she really wanted to be with me. And she wanted me for me, not for anything I possessed or represented.

Unable to resist asking the question that had plagued me since day one, I asked why she wanted me out of all the guys in Tallahassee. I told her about my heartbreaks in high school, along with a few disappointments I’d had since arriving in Florida for college. I even admitted that I didn’t feel I had anything outstanding to offer other than my time and my heart.

I will never forget what she had to say in response:
“Kenny, you deserve to be happy. Why can’t I be the one to give you what you need? You’re all that I could ever want. I wanna be the same for you.”

---

As beautiful as we were together, like many things, it didn’t last, mostly for religious reasons, of all things. But ending things didn’t hurt me at all. I think it bothered her more than anything, even though it was her idea. At first, her decision had me worried that I might have been nothing more than a Flavor of the Month to her, considering she could have any man she wanted. But I knew in my heart that it was because she didn’t want to stop me from pursuing a lifestyle that she didn’t necessarily want.

I didn’t regret our decision. Neither of us did. And my beliefs about her loyalty to me proved true after I later fell for someone in the church, only to have my heart eventually broken, what seemed irreparably.

I called Sheryl, not soon after. And she was right there for me.

We knew the second time around that it was best that we kept it casual, but that didn’t stop us from being us.

Looking back on it all, I’m thankful. Very thankful.

Because thanks to Sheryl, for the first time in my life, I knew I was just as good as any other guy…

…and I was content, just being me.

---

Like what you read? Leave a comment in the section below. And feel free to sign up at the bottom to receive email notification of future blog posts from Kenny’s Camera, Cooking & Crazy Confessions at ZootsBlogSpot!