Customer Service (F/m) - One Shot
Posted: Sat May 14, 2022 11:15 pm
Grover Parker's Island was a dreary place this time of year. The trees in the island's famous maple groves and apple orchards stood bare, no longer clothed in orange and gold leaves. A cold wind blew from the north, and a blanket of fog obscured the endless Atlantic as its waves crashed against the shore. An eerie stillness fell over the docks in sharp contrast to its usually frantic pace. It would be at least a few months until it was once again swarmed by boatloads of tourists from the mainland. The ferry service that formed the lifeblood of the island's economy was only running twice a day now. The town's main street was adorned with dark windows and locked doors as the owners of the shops and cafes took a much-needed break. But at the end of the block, one cozy shop still glowed with electric light. Inside, a young boy sat alone.
Tor took great pride in his island home and the shop his family owned. For as long as he could remember, he'd spent the busy season doing as much as he could to help his parents out. As the youngest of the island's permanent residents, Tor was used to hearing that he was too little to do exciting things or know better than others. But if there was one thing Tor knew, it was this shop. He could chat with customers for hours about any of the haphazard assortment of goods on sale. Every birthday brought new and more challenging responsibilities. This year, Tor had brought an intriguing proposal to his parents: he asked if he could run the store by himself during the off-season.
His parents didn't have much reason to object. The shop would have hardly any business, and their family knew everyone in town. Tor's parents knew that Tor was responsible enough not to damage the merchandise. He understood the few duties he would have well. It would keep him out of trouble and encourage him to retain the admirable sense of responsibility he had developed at such a young age. So every morning for the past week, Tor had made the trip down the cobblestone street to the little shop. After some light cleaning, he would spend most of the day browsing books and comics from the magazine rack or playing with toys from the big crate. Occasionally a local would come by, nominally to buy a pack of gum or a bottle of Autocrat, but also to check in on the little retailer.
Tor's morning passed like many of the others he had experienced since he started running the shop. He walked around the shop to look for anything out of the ordinary, did some light dusting and sweeping, and then sat down against the magazine rack where he passed the morning with a brightly illustrated puzzle book. At noon, he was roused from his reverie by the chirping of the antique cuckoo clock hanging above a display of kitschy fall ornaments. He shifted from a sitting position to a crawling position to a standing position and sauntered in the direction of the front door, intending to hang the painted wooden Out to Lunch sign. He stopped when he spotted the wrapped sandwich sitting on the unstocked and powered-off ice cream counter. He now remembered that he was on his own for lunch today. His parents had business on the mainland that day and had given him permission to help himself to a snack and drink of his choice to go with the sandwich his mom packed for him. With the sandwich, a packaged apple hand pie, and a big bottle of Moxy in hand, he sat with his back to the counter to enjoy his lunch while listening to the pitter-patter of raindrops outside.
It wasn't long before the empty bottle, sandwich wrapping, and pie wrapper lay discarded on the floor. Tor quickly swept them into a standing dustpan. Now energized by caffeine and sugar, he felt restless. Although he had been excited to run the shop by himself, he had no other choice today. That knowledge made him feel more trapped and bored than he had on the other days he'd spent in the shop. He wondered what he'd do with the remaining hours when suddenly he was startled by the ringing of the brass bell above the front door. He immediately sprang to attention.
"Hi, welcome to...!" he exclaimed. He tilted his head to the side. "I've never seen you before," he observed curiously, "I mean... what brings you to Grover Parker's Island?"
The customer was a tall young woman. She was sheltered from the rain by a dark gray rain jacket. "Oh... hello," she asked with a note of surprise in her voice, "I just landed to wait out tonight's storm... thought I'd buy some supplies while I waited. Are you here all by yourself?"
Tor nodded. "My parents went to the mainland today," he informed her, "But don't worry, I can help you with whatever you need, except alcohol and cigarettes. I'm Tor, by the way."
"Oh no, nothing like that," she assured him, "Tor, huh? That's a funny name."
"It's short for Torbjorn. It's Norwegian. My great-grandpa..."
"How interesting!" she exclaimed, "You can call me Heather. But are you sure you can help me? Do you know how to make change and everything?"
Tor took a step back. "Of course I do," he said, "I've done it tons of times. Want to see?"
"Ok, prove it. Give me change for this," Heather said, holding up a $100 bill from her bag.
Tor took it from her and worked the cash register while she watched over his shoulder. "It's easy. You just push this, and this, and then..." The cash drawer slid open with a *DING*. Tor placed the $100 diagonally across the drawer and counted out 5 $20 bills before placing it with the others and handing the women the twenties. There was a click as he pushed the drawer back in securely.
"Well, I'm convinced," she said with a smile. She briefly glanced around the room. "Can we start looking over there?" she asked, pointing to a sign indicating Camping and Fishing. "I might want to do some camping on my boat trip," she continued.
"Sure! All the camping places are gonna be muddy though..." Tor answered, noting the rain pouring down outside. The woman didn't seem bothered, so he walked her over to the cluttered display.
"Ooh, this looks cool!" she said, picking up a plastic-encased survival knife from the shelf.
"It's not bad for the price," Tor explained, matching almost word-for-word what his father had said to another customer weeks earlier, "It's got a compass built into the handle, see? And the back part works like a saw. Only thing is, you have to sharpen it. It doesn't come very sharp."
"Wow, you really do know your stuff," she said, placing the knife back on the hook, "But I don't have what I need to sharpen it. Don't you have any that are already sharpened?"
Tor thought for a moment. "Oh... yeah!" he stood on the tips of his toes to knock another package down from the display. He presented the package to her with both hands. "These folding ones come pretty sharp," he explained.
"Looks perfect. Hold it for me, will you?" Heather said as she continued to examine the supplies, "Oh, and I'll take a couple of these," she declared, handing him two packs of cotton clothesline.
"That's for hanging clothes... not good for fishing or climbing or anything," he explained cautiously, "We have some..."
"Just what I need," she answered emphatically, "My clothes are gonna be drenched after this storm."
Tor shrugged, still holding her purchases in each of his hands. "Do you need anything else?"
"I'm not sure. I'll know it if I see it." Heather explained, "Oh! I guess there is one thing. I didn't plan on visiting this island, but now that I'm here, I should get a souvenir to show people."
"All that stuff's over here," he said. He set the woman's purchases by the register before taking her to a colorful corner of the shop. T-shirts and sweatshirts hung from plastic hangers amid bins of plastic knick-knacks, all bearing the name Grover Parker's Island accompanied by various illustrations. "My mom buys the designs from someone online, then we have them printed at a shop over on the mainland," he explained.
"These are nice..." the woman said, examining some long, thin scarves bearing the patterns of fall leaves, lobsters, and apple bushels. "Are they silk?"
"Sateen," Tor corrected, "And they are nice. I like them."
"Which one's your favorite?"
"It's not here. One sec," Tor answered, dropping to his knees and opening a drawer. He pulled out another scarf. This one bore a repeating mosaic of glowing Jack-o-Lanterns. "I picked out that design myself. But Halloween's over, so we put them away."
"I think that's the one I'd like to buy," the woman told him. Tor beamed and coiled it up to place with her other purchases. "There might be something else... I'll think about it later. Why don't you ring me up now? I want to see if that knife is as good as you say it is."
Tor practically glowing with pride. It was so rare to get a "real" customer during the off-season, and it seemed like she was pretty happy with the service he was offering. He took the cash the woman offered and carefully counted out her change. At the same time, Heather tore open the knife's paper-and-plastic packaging. She flicked it open and sliced open one of the packs of clothesline. With a certain amount of effort, the tall woman managed to cut off a few sections of the clothesline. Tor watched with interest as she looped them and tied them into various shapes. "What are you making?"
"Just practicing some knots. I'm a sailor, after all," she answered.
"Can you show me one?" he asked, interested.
"Ok. Let's practice on the scarf, so it's easy to untie later," Heather proposed. Under the woman's guidance, Tor tied a neat-looking knot the size of his fist in the middle of the scarf.
"That was easy," he commented.
"Hey... I just thought of something else I need," the woman suddenly remarked, "I mean, I know this isn't a furniture store or anything, but you don't have any extra chairs or anything, do you? My deck chair..."
"Oh! I think we might have something, actually," the boy responded. He walked over to the far wall and removed a wooden folding chair. "One of our neighbors really likes woodworking. He makes stuff for us to sell sometimes, like this..." He placed the chair on the floor, demonstrating how it unfolded to resemble an ordinary four-legged wooden dining chair.
She smiled. "It's perfect. How much is it?"
"Let me just..." Tor bent over the chair to look for the price tag. However, before he could find it, he felt his arms jerked back and a pair of clothesline cuffs tightened around his wrists. "Hey! What're you... MMMPH!" In another moment, the knotted scarf was pulled into his mouth and wrapped tightly around his head.
"I'm really sorry about this." the woman said as she began to wrap him tightly in clothesline, binding his arms against his torso tightly. "I don't usually rob people... but I took this trip to experience new things, and this was just too good of an opportunity to pass up." She then lashed the boy's body to the back of the chair, leaving his bound hands pinned between him and it. Next, she bound his ankles together and ran the rope between the chair's legs, and secured it to the back, causing his lower legs to fold under the chair. Now the poor boy couldn't even rest his feet on the ground. "Don't look at me like that." she pouted, "I'll bet this is the most exciting thing that's happened to you all week."
Tor could only watch helplessly as she opened the cash register, just as he had shown her earlier. "NNG! MMPH MPH GNNTH GNNF!" he objected as she emptied the contents of the cash drawer into a tote bag with the name Grover Parker's Island printed over a picture of a deer in the forest. She ignored the little shopkeeper's muffled protests as she perused the shelves for anything with a quick resale value, which she also swept into the bag.
"This is like being on one of those shows where they let you keep anything you can put in your cart in five minutes. Except I'm not really in a hurry, am I?" Heather's demeanor suggested otherwise as if she was acutely aware that staying longer than needed increased the chance that someone would walk in. "Alright. Here. Is this your phone?" she asked, picking up the phone in question from next to the register. She could see it wasn't password locked, so she scrolled through the contacts before settling on one labeled "Mom."
"I'll set this up so you can call your mother. I've already selected her, so you just need to hit the call button with your nose. But don't try until I'm gone, ok?" she placed the phone on the counter right next to the boy's head. Before leaving, she took time to hang the Out to Lunch sign. Anyone passing by would assume that Tor decided to stay home after lunch because of the rain.
Tor gnawed on his pumpkin-adorned gag in frustration. But when he decided to run the store, he had insisted he could handle anything. And although it made his cheeks burn with frustration to do anything that the lady told him to do, he didn't see any choice. He craned his neck as far as he could and just managed to hit the call button, pushing the phone out of his own reach in the process. But it was ringing.
"Tor, honey, is that you? Good timing, I was just about to call you."
"MMR! HNGH MR! RRF HRF HRRF HRRRM!"
"I'm sorry sweetie, I can't hear you very well. The weather must be interfering with the signal. They canceled the evening ferry back to the island because of the storm, so your father and I were wondering if you'd like to spend the night in the shop? You can help yourself to any of the shop's food for dinner."
"HRM!? NRM GRNF FRM HRMMM!!"
His mother giggled. "I knew you'd be excited. Just don't go too crazy with the sweets, ok? Love you, see you in the morning."
"Fmmhrmmm..." Tor muttered in response. He squeezed his legs together and squirmed awkwardly, regretting the amount of Moxie he had taken with lunch. It was going to be a long night.
Tor took great pride in his island home and the shop his family owned. For as long as he could remember, he'd spent the busy season doing as much as he could to help his parents out. As the youngest of the island's permanent residents, Tor was used to hearing that he was too little to do exciting things or know better than others. But if there was one thing Tor knew, it was this shop. He could chat with customers for hours about any of the haphazard assortment of goods on sale. Every birthday brought new and more challenging responsibilities. This year, Tor had brought an intriguing proposal to his parents: he asked if he could run the store by himself during the off-season.
His parents didn't have much reason to object. The shop would have hardly any business, and their family knew everyone in town. Tor's parents knew that Tor was responsible enough not to damage the merchandise. He understood the few duties he would have well. It would keep him out of trouble and encourage him to retain the admirable sense of responsibility he had developed at such a young age. So every morning for the past week, Tor had made the trip down the cobblestone street to the little shop. After some light cleaning, he would spend most of the day browsing books and comics from the magazine rack or playing with toys from the big crate. Occasionally a local would come by, nominally to buy a pack of gum or a bottle of Autocrat, but also to check in on the little retailer.
Tor's morning passed like many of the others he had experienced since he started running the shop. He walked around the shop to look for anything out of the ordinary, did some light dusting and sweeping, and then sat down against the magazine rack where he passed the morning with a brightly illustrated puzzle book. At noon, he was roused from his reverie by the chirping of the antique cuckoo clock hanging above a display of kitschy fall ornaments. He shifted from a sitting position to a crawling position to a standing position and sauntered in the direction of the front door, intending to hang the painted wooden Out to Lunch sign. He stopped when he spotted the wrapped sandwich sitting on the unstocked and powered-off ice cream counter. He now remembered that he was on his own for lunch today. His parents had business on the mainland that day and had given him permission to help himself to a snack and drink of his choice to go with the sandwich his mom packed for him. With the sandwich, a packaged apple hand pie, and a big bottle of Moxy in hand, he sat with his back to the counter to enjoy his lunch while listening to the pitter-patter of raindrops outside.
It wasn't long before the empty bottle, sandwich wrapping, and pie wrapper lay discarded on the floor. Tor quickly swept them into a standing dustpan. Now energized by caffeine and sugar, he felt restless. Although he had been excited to run the shop by himself, he had no other choice today. That knowledge made him feel more trapped and bored than he had on the other days he'd spent in the shop. He wondered what he'd do with the remaining hours when suddenly he was startled by the ringing of the brass bell above the front door. He immediately sprang to attention.
"Hi, welcome to...!" he exclaimed. He tilted his head to the side. "I've never seen you before," he observed curiously, "I mean... what brings you to Grover Parker's Island?"
The customer was a tall young woman. She was sheltered from the rain by a dark gray rain jacket. "Oh... hello," she asked with a note of surprise in her voice, "I just landed to wait out tonight's storm... thought I'd buy some supplies while I waited. Are you here all by yourself?"
Tor nodded. "My parents went to the mainland today," he informed her, "But don't worry, I can help you with whatever you need, except alcohol and cigarettes. I'm Tor, by the way."
"Oh no, nothing like that," she assured him, "Tor, huh? That's a funny name."
"It's short for Torbjorn. It's Norwegian. My great-grandpa..."
"How interesting!" she exclaimed, "You can call me Heather. But are you sure you can help me? Do you know how to make change and everything?"
Tor took a step back. "Of course I do," he said, "I've done it tons of times. Want to see?"
"Ok, prove it. Give me change for this," Heather said, holding up a $100 bill from her bag.
Tor took it from her and worked the cash register while she watched over his shoulder. "It's easy. You just push this, and this, and then..." The cash drawer slid open with a *DING*. Tor placed the $100 diagonally across the drawer and counted out 5 $20 bills before placing it with the others and handing the women the twenties. There was a click as he pushed the drawer back in securely.
"Well, I'm convinced," she said with a smile. She briefly glanced around the room. "Can we start looking over there?" she asked, pointing to a sign indicating Camping and Fishing. "I might want to do some camping on my boat trip," she continued.
"Sure! All the camping places are gonna be muddy though..." Tor answered, noting the rain pouring down outside. The woman didn't seem bothered, so he walked her over to the cluttered display.
"Ooh, this looks cool!" she said, picking up a plastic-encased survival knife from the shelf.
"It's not bad for the price," Tor explained, matching almost word-for-word what his father had said to another customer weeks earlier, "It's got a compass built into the handle, see? And the back part works like a saw. Only thing is, you have to sharpen it. It doesn't come very sharp."
"Wow, you really do know your stuff," she said, placing the knife back on the hook, "But I don't have what I need to sharpen it. Don't you have any that are already sharpened?"
Tor thought for a moment. "Oh... yeah!" he stood on the tips of his toes to knock another package down from the display. He presented the package to her with both hands. "These folding ones come pretty sharp," he explained.
"Looks perfect. Hold it for me, will you?" Heather said as she continued to examine the supplies, "Oh, and I'll take a couple of these," she declared, handing him two packs of cotton clothesline.
"That's for hanging clothes... not good for fishing or climbing or anything," he explained cautiously, "We have some..."
"Just what I need," she answered emphatically, "My clothes are gonna be drenched after this storm."
Tor shrugged, still holding her purchases in each of his hands. "Do you need anything else?"
"I'm not sure. I'll know it if I see it." Heather explained, "Oh! I guess there is one thing. I didn't plan on visiting this island, but now that I'm here, I should get a souvenir to show people."
"All that stuff's over here," he said. He set the woman's purchases by the register before taking her to a colorful corner of the shop. T-shirts and sweatshirts hung from plastic hangers amid bins of plastic knick-knacks, all bearing the name Grover Parker's Island accompanied by various illustrations. "My mom buys the designs from someone online, then we have them printed at a shop over on the mainland," he explained.
"These are nice..." the woman said, examining some long, thin scarves bearing the patterns of fall leaves, lobsters, and apple bushels. "Are they silk?"
"Sateen," Tor corrected, "And they are nice. I like them."
"Which one's your favorite?"
"It's not here. One sec," Tor answered, dropping to his knees and opening a drawer. He pulled out another scarf. This one bore a repeating mosaic of glowing Jack-o-Lanterns. "I picked out that design myself. But Halloween's over, so we put them away."
"I think that's the one I'd like to buy," the woman told him. Tor beamed and coiled it up to place with her other purchases. "There might be something else... I'll think about it later. Why don't you ring me up now? I want to see if that knife is as good as you say it is."
Tor practically glowing with pride. It was so rare to get a "real" customer during the off-season, and it seemed like she was pretty happy with the service he was offering. He took the cash the woman offered and carefully counted out her change. At the same time, Heather tore open the knife's paper-and-plastic packaging. She flicked it open and sliced open one of the packs of clothesline. With a certain amount of effort, the tall woman managed to cut off a few sections of the clothesline. Tor watched with interest as she looped them and tied them into various shapes. "What are you making?"
"Just practicing some knots. I'm a sailor, after all," she answered.
"Can you show me one?" he asked, interested.
"Ok. Let's practice on the scarf, so it's easy to untie later," Heather proposed. Under the woman's guidance, Tor tied a neat-looking knot the size of his fist in the middle of the scarf.
"That was easy," he commented.
"Hey... I just thought of something else I need," the woman suddenly remarked, "I mean, I know this isn't a furniture store or anything, but you don't have any extra chairs or anything, do you? My deck chair..."
"Oh! I think we might have something, actually," the boy responded. He walked over to the far wall and removed a wooden folding chair. "One of our neighbors really likes woodworking. He makes stuff for us to sell sometimes, like this..." He placed the chair on the floor, demonstrating how it unfolded to resemble an ordinary four-legged wooden dining chair.
She smiled. "It's perfect. How much is it?"
"Let me just..." Tor bent over the chair to look for the price tag. However, before he could find it, he felt his arms jerked back and a pair of clothesline cuffs tightened around his wrists. "Hey! What're you... MMMPH!" In another moment, the knotted scarf was pulled into his mouth and wrapped tightly around his head.
"I'm really sorry about this." the woman said as she began to wrap him tightly in clothesline, binding his arms against his torso tightly. "I don't usually rob people... but I took this trip to experience new things, and this was just too good of an opportunity to pass up." She then lashed the boy's body to the back of the chair, leaving his bound hands pinned between him and it. Next, she bound his ankles together and ran the rope between the chair's legs, and secured it to the back, causing his lower legs to fold under the chair. Now the poor boy couldn't even rest his feet on the ground. "Don't look at me like that." she pouted, "I'll bet this is the most exciting thing that's happened to you all week."
Tor could only watch helplessly as she opened the cash register, just as he had shown her earlier. "NNG! MMPH MPH GNNTH GNNF!" he objected as she emptied the contents of the cash drawer into a tote bag with the name Grover Parker's Island printed over a picture of a deer in the forest. She ignored the little shopkeeper's muffled protests as she perused the shelves for anything with a quick resale value, which she also swept into the bag.
"This is like being on one of those shows where they let you keep anything you can put in your cart in five minutes. Except I'm not really in a hurry, am I?" Heather's demeanor suggested otherwise as if she was acutely aware that staying longer than needed increased the chance that someone would walk in. "Alright. Here. Is this your phone?" she asked, picking up the phone in question from next to the register. She could see it wasn't password locked, so she scrolled through the contacts before settling on one labeled "Mom."
"I'll set this up so you can call your mother. I've already selected her, so you just need to hit the call button with your nose. But don't try until I'm gone, ok?" she placed the phone on the counter right next to the boy's head. Before leaving, she took time to hang the Out to Lunch sign. Anyone passing by would assume that Tor decided to stay home after lunch because of the rain.
Tor gnawed on his pumpkin-adorned gag in frustration. But when he decided to run the store, he had insisted he could handle anything. And although it made his cheeks burn with frustration to do anything that the lady told him to do, he didn't see any choice. He craned his neck as far as he could and just managed to hit the call button, pushing the phone out of his own reach in the process. But it was ringing.
"Tor, honey, is that you? Good timing, I was just about to call you."
"MMR! HNGH MR! RRF HRF HRRF HRRRM!"
"I'm sorry sweetie, I can't hear you very well. The weather must be interfering with the signal. They canceled the evening ferry back to the island because of the storm, so your father and I were wondering if you'd like to spend the night in the shop? You can help yourself to any of the shop's food for dinner."
"HRM!? NRM GRNF FRM HRMMM!!"
His mother giggled. "I knew you'd be excited. Just don't go too crazy with the sweets, ok? Love you, see you in the morning."
"Fmmhrmmm..." Tor muttered in response. He squeezed his legs together and squirmed awkwardly, regretting the amount of Moxie he had taken with lunch. It was going to be a long night.