I am looking at printers when he walks in, because my broken one in the office has been collecting dust for months as well as acting like a nice serving tray for coffee mugs. Why have I waited so long to get a functioning printer?!?
He walks in, and I see he’s immediately overwhelmed by the grandiosity of the store and all the appliances inside. As if he’s been in a coma for fifty years and woke up to a time of internet and tweeting and live-streaming-camcorders.
This Man: in his 60’s, in tan trousers with a green tucked-in button-down, in a brown BELT! This Man: with kind eyes, with consumer desires, with no clue on how to find what he’s looking for. This Man is so confused it’s making me choke! He doesn’t see me. Which is a good thing because I’m weeping in aisle 3.
This Man gives up. He rushes over to a young Best Buy guy in a blue shirt and fires away his questions. Mister Best Buy is annoyed, obviously wanting to scream, “It’s not complicated, just look up at the signs and you’ll see where the phones are!” But he swallows his youthfulness and his rebellion, he grins and says, “follow me.” And This Man is so happy to have a leader in a new age.
A tiny, shiny moment. A moment to remind me that all this stuff is just stuff, and nothing can ever trump connection and contact. That is the life force. I leave without a printer. I leave with lastima. I leave wishing for old times.