Music by the Bee Gees softy plays into the mall and
can be heard in the men’s clothing area of J C Penney: Tragedy.
When the feelings gone and you can't go on - its tragedy. When the morning
cries and you don't know why - its hard to bear. With no-one to love you,
you’re goin nowhere –Tragedy. When you lose control and you got no soul - its
tragedy. When the morning cries and you don't know why - its hard to bear. With
no-one to love you, you’re goin nowhere…
The salesman, Dave, stands behind Jimmy as they stand
in front of the store full length mirrors at J C Penney. His hand on Jimmy’s
shoulder telling him what a fine purchase the Quad is. The suit comes with two
pairs of slacks and a reversible vest. The textured woven polyester fiber blend
is ideal for a wrinkle free look. Dave knows this sale will put him on pace to
make his quota for the month, with which he earns a modest, but important,
bonus. The price is right but Jimmy is reluctant to add another 130 bucks to
his revolving credit. He reasons however: you have spend money to make money
and the interview season is upon us. Dave looks a bit like the son-in-law of
Archie Bunker on the TV show All in the
Family but Jimmy doesn’t quite want to bring that up. He might buy this
suit from the guy but he does not want to befriend the meathead.
Dave assures Jimmy the fit will be perfect once the
free tailoring is complete. He grabs the jacket between his shoulder blades and
bunches the material to enhance the look from the front. “Fits you like a glove,
my friend.” Jimmy needs a decent shirt and shoes too but he’ll deal with that
elsewhere. “Take this ticket to the tailoring area and we’ll have you fixed in
no time,” says Dave. The tailor is a caricature of an old school haberdasher. A
yellow measuring tape is handing from his neck. There is a nearby pin cushion
and he’s poised for fitting with marking chalk in his right hand. He is an officious
little man with a bald spot which is revealed every time his back faces the
mirror. He chalks the length of pant legs, sleeves and jacket back. He moves to
complete the paperwork. He updates the ticket in ball point pen. “The suit will
be ready for pick up on the 25th, he says adding “We’ve sold quite a
few of the Quads. I think you will be happy with the flexibility it gives you.”
Jimmy stepped out into the bright sunlight in the
Dadeland parking lot and paused for a moment to recall where he’d left his Ford
Fiesta. The parking lot was not full an hour and a half ago but it is now. The
sun shines with its usual intensity for an August day “WELCOME TO MIAMI, THE
SQUINTING CAPITAL OF THE WORLD” he says to himself. (That billboard for
Sunglass Hut always makes Jimmy smile because it rings so true for a kid from
Cleveland as a point of contract.)
On the 25th Jimmy and the Fiesta managed
to find the exact same parking spot at Dadeland when he arrives in time to pick
up his Quad. He is wearing new shoes and a button-down pin-point oxford shirt.
His shirt-tails are out and he’s wearing Bermuda shorts. The spot isn’t far
from the place where the Columbian drug war shootout took place and yet a
location never visited by cops Crockett and Tubbs (Miami Vice) or Tony Montana
(Scareface). The asphalt and concrete of the mall lot is far too ordinary for
most producers. After all, this is a town where site options include the
visually intriguing deco architecture, sandy beaches, palm trees, downtown
skylines and shiny neon retail signage. Jimmy has lived in South Florida long
enough to appreciate the sublime and the ridiculous so artfully presented by writers
like Carl Hiaasen and Dave Barry.
Now he was wondering about the wisdom of the
Quad suit. Jimmy didn’t expect to see his salesman again but he
recognized him, even though he was not dressed for work and not at all in a
pleasant mood. By the look on his face he was going to start a fight with
someone. Though they exchanged glances, Dave didn’t recognize his customer and
seemed preoccupied with a letter he was holding. “This is bullshit,” Dave was
saying again and again to no-one in particular. Once Jimmy got his merchandise,
he was quick to move to the exit and not at all curious about Dave’s grievance.
Monday morning came and Jimmy was dressed in the
Quad and enjoying a bagel with cream cheese and a cup of coffee at The Brickell
Emporium. (Jimmy chose the solid color slacks and blander vest option). His
interview at the advertising firm Hume Smith Mickelberry just a couple of
blocks away wasn’t scheduled for another 30 minutes (at 9:30 a.m.). Over the
sound system, The Bee Gees could be heard behind the mild clanking of
silverware as a waiter cleared tables. When the feelings gone and you can't
go on - Its tragedy. When the morning cries and you don't know why - Its hard
to bear. With no-one to love you you’re Goin nowhere – Tragedy. When you lose
control and you got no soul - Its tragedy. When the morning cries and you don't
know why - Its hard to bear. With no-one to love you you’re Goin nowhere…
Jimmy was
feeling a little sick, nauseous, now. He
managed to make his appointment on time. The receptionist was polite enough but
Jimmy was not thrilled to find himself in the lobby waiting along with Salesman
Dave. Thankfully Dave wasn’t wearing a Quad suit but he was smartly dressed and
sporting a matching tie and pocket square. Two guys in the lobby at Hume Smith
Mickelberry waiting for an interview. No telling for sure but maybe for the
same job. The Bee Gees were playing in his head: When you lose control and you got no soul - its tragedy. When the morning
cries and you don't know why - its hard to bear. With no-one to love you you’re
goin nowhere…
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