BOOK CHAPTERS BY Stuart Englander
Seasonal Allegories: Chapter 8
From O. Henry to Rod Serling, and other short stories in between
When The Other Shoe Drops
Harry decided it was finally time to make a major change in his life. For the last fifteen years, he had been a loyal and dependable sales associate at a major department store. But, this was the beginning of another new year, and now it was time for Harry to make a big change.
He was a friendly and helpful assistant with customers visiting the men’s department, always with a little joke or story at the ready for his regulars. Harry enjoyed telling stories for people, and he loved to entertain whilst performing his job. In all that time though, he’d never been considered for a significant promotion.
After work hours, he would spend evenings reading online publications featuring ‘How-to’ articles, and others where fiction writers offered creative work. He started keeping a journal of his own, jotting down ideas as they popped into his head. Secretly, he always harboured a notion he could be a successful writer someday. Until then, Harry had to achieve what he could in the retail trade.
Harry was well-liked enough, but always passed over when it came to advancement in the company. So, when he spotted the online advertisement about a junior executive position with his company’s rival, Primrose, Harry prepared himself to make a pitch for the job.
With a new career in mind, Harry decided to spend some of his meagre savings on a new image. After work one day, he travelled into the mall adjacent to his store and stopped in at the most upscale clothing shop in the mall. He didn’t want to arouse suspicion among his coworkers, so he thought it best to shop in the mall. Harry bought a brand new, tailor-fitted suit, a crisp white dress shirt, and a matching business tie. He plunked down his credit card to pay for the $1000 suit.
Next, he went next door to the expensive shoe store and tried on a pair of patent leather loafers, the kind with a rich brown lustre, and gold buckle across the arch. The shoes were insanely expensive but as Harry figured it, best he looks like executive material if he were to have a chance at the role of an executive. He paid $400 for the shoes in cash, most of his savings.
On the day of his interview, Harry showered and shaved, put on his brand new suit and tie, and slipped into his very expensive patent leather shoes. Checking himself in the mirror on his bedroom wall, Harry allowed himself two thumbs up, gave himself a little pep-talk, and out the door he went.
He arrived at the flagship store of his company’s competitor about twenty minutes before his appointment. He entered the hundred-year-old Edwardian building through the glass revolving door, and into the marble-floored expanse of the city’s most prestigious shopping venue. He had plenty of time to get the lay of the land with a quick look around the store and find the administration offices for Primrose.
Harry was told to walk to the back of the store’s main floor, and take one of the elevators up three floors to the company offices. This department store had been a city icon for so many years, it still featured an old-style elevator with a folding crossed metal, inner door and a wooden outer door.
The lift arrived and Harry opened the outer door. Through the diamond-shaped crosses of the inner slider, he marvelled at the elaborate wood panelling and gold trim of the elevator car. The only difference from the last fifty years was that floor buttons were installed instead of a lever, and there was no elevator operator in uniform to greet him. Still, the classic car reminded Harry of old films he loved so much. Harry was so enthralled by the intricate handiwork of the lift box, he never noticed the three-inch gap between the main floor and the elevator car.
As he pulled back the folding metal door and stepped forward, one of Harry’s patent leather loafers slipped off his left foot and fell through the expanse. Down the shoe went, into the abyss. He heard the plunk sound as the shoe hit bottom, one floor below.
Trying hard not to lose his composure, Harry peered through the opening and saw his shoe lying on a carpeted floor in the basement. “Don’t panic,” he told himself as he looked down at his shoeless left foot.
Glancing around quickly to make sure he hadn’t been seen, Harry rode the lift down one floor to the basement. He fully expected to retrieve the missing shoe when he arrived. After all, he could see it plainly through the gap. There must be a way to reach his shoe, he thought.
He reached the bottom and opened the inner door. The loafer was partly crushed under the car, so Harry stepped out and sent the elevator back up again. He waited until the car disappeared and tried to open the outer door. It wouldn’t budge. The locking mechanism prevented anyone from inadvertently stepping into an empty elevator shaft.
Harry looked around frantically to see if anyone was watching. No one was around in the corridor. Realizing there was now less than fifteen minutes until his interview, he had to think fast. He called the lift back again and rode to the third-floor men’s department. Harry went straight for the shoe section doing everything possible to avoid contact with others since he was obviously only wearing one shoe.
He went quickly to the shelf where business shoes were on display and pulled down a brogue that looked close to his size. A salesman approached and asked, “Would you like to try the pair, sir?”.
“Yes,” said Harry. “size ten, please.” The sales clerk brought a shoebox out from the back fairly quickly, and then excused himself to help another customer before Harry could react. Harry put on both brogues, and then he stuffed the lone loafer in his briefcase. Again, he looked around to see if anyone was about. The salesman had completely disappeared.
Looking at his watch, Harry saw that he was running out of time. He would have happily paid for the shoes and been on his way, but the staff member had completely abandoned him.
The floor seemed completely deserted, so Harry decided to go for his interview and come back later about the shoes. As it was, he was going to be a couple of minutes late even if he ran. Not a good impression to arrive out of breath and perspiring, so Harry chose to walk briskly and make his apologies when he arrived.
Luckily, the secretary arrived to call him in just as he stepped off the elevator on the fourth floor. Harry was ushered into an ornately decorated office with rich, dark panelled walls and black leather chairs. Two well dressed, stern-looking men stood behind an enormous oak desk looking down their noses at him as he approached.
“Mr.,…Sharp, is it?” one of the men asked.
“Yes, sirs,” Harry replied confidently as he could muster, but neither man extended his hand. Instead, the man who was obviously in charge pointed toward a chair but Harry remained standing as did the others.
The two men stood behind the desk and conferred over a page of notes. Finally, Mr. Primrose raised his gaze and looked Harry up and down. “You’ve been with our competitor for some time Mr. Sharp. I should think you are highly valued over there.”
“Well, sir…Mr. Primrose. I would like to think so, but…” Before Harry could finish his thought, just then there was a soft tap at the office door and the secretary timidly poked her head in.
“I’m sorry to bother you sirs, but Mr. Grimson is outside and he insists on speaking with you, immediately.”
The second man followed the woman out the door while the president of the company sat down behind his desk. “I’m told you have a long and loyal employment history with our competitor Mr. Sharp, so why come here?” he said directing Harry to sit with an outstretched hand.
Harry was about to reply when the second in command burst back into the room with who was presumably Grimson, close in tow. “Just a moment J.B.,” said the VP. Coming around the desk, he said to the man following, “Grimson, please tell these gentlemen what you just told me outside. “
Grimson stood erect and introduced himself to the president as chief of store security. Then, he said, “Sir, one of our secret shoppers just spotted this man…” he pointed at Harry. “Well sir, they spotted him walking off the third floor wearing an unpaid for pair of shoes. Black brogues to be exact.”
The president’s mouth fell open in surprise, and they all looked down to see his brand new Primrose brogues. Then the company founder turned to Harry and said, “ I think you better explain yourself, young man.”
Blushing, Harry replied, “It’s just a simple misunderstanding, sir. It’s actually very funny when you think about it.”
Before Harry could get another word out, the president admonished, “There’s nothing funny about shoplifting, sir. Not in my establishment.”
“No sir, what I mean is…”
“I believe we’ve heard enough, Mr. Sharp. Good day.”
Grimson moved behind Harry and placed his hand firmly on his shoulder, forcing Harry to move toward the door. “Shall I commence prosecution procedures, sir?” Grimson asked.
“No, that won’t be necessary.” the older man said, “Just escort Mr. Sharp off the premises. And take those shoes back.” The president looked up at Harry in disgust and said, “Wait until your current boss hears what you’ve done here.” He dismissed them with a wave of his hand.
“Come along then,” said Grimson, taking Harry by the arm. “Let’s not have any more trouble.”
“But I can explain.” Harry blurted out as he reached into his bag. The two older men reeled in shock. Harry pulled out his patent leather, right loafer from his case and lifted it in the direction of Primrose.
Grimson acted quickly and put Harry into a firm chokehold while he wrestled him out the door. “My shoe!” gasped Harry. “Under the lift…” was all he could get out. The shoe dropped from Harry’s hand, bounced once off the plush carpet, and landed behind the open office door.
“I changed my mind!” shouted Primrose from inside his office. “Press charges!”
Harry sat solemnly in the back of a police cruiser, trying to figure how a lost shoe could turn his whole life upside down. He watched out the car window as Grimson conferred with the police officer.
The officer left the security man and came to the car door. Opening it he said to Harry, “You’re in a lot of trouble, mister.”
“For what?” Harry shot back, “Holding a man at shoe point?”
“You may think you’re pretty funny, Sharp. But, I don’t!” replied the cop as he slammed the door shut on Harry.
Shoeless and disheartened, Harry slumped in the back of the cruiser as it raced toward the police station. Upon arrival at the station, he was booked and fingerprinted and put in a holding cell. The desk Sargent informed Harry he would have to spend the weekend before appearing in court.
Harry Sharp was placed in a ten by ten-foot cell, given a sandwich and coffee to eat, and told to keep quiet. He was granted one request to call his lawyer friend, and another to be provided with a pencil and paper. The lawyer friend had left for a weekend in the country, so Harry sat quietly in his cell, and he began to write.
Very early on the following Monday morning, J.B. Primrose entered his private office to begin his day and shut the door behind him. That’s when he noticed for the first time since the incident, the patent leather right shoe laying on the carpeted floor behind the door.
J.B. stooped to pick up the expensive shoe. While he held the offending loafer in his hand, it got him thinking. At 6 AM, there were very few people in the building if any at all, so he left his office and went to the elevator. Primrose rode the car down to the basement and opened the inner door of the lift. Looking through the gap, he discovered the matching shoe to the one in his hand. “Well, I’ll be damned”, he said out loud, though no one was around to hear.
Returning to his private office suite, J.B. Primrose picked up his phone and for the first time in his life, personally called custodial services. Then, he made a second call.
By the time Monday morning rolled around, Harry had filled a notepad with the story of his recent past. He appeared in court that day and was given a fine and a caution, and he was sent on his way.
With no job, no prospects, and no immediate plan to pay his bills, Harry went home and spent two more days polishing his story. Finally, after several rewrites, Harry created a file of his short story and sent it off to a few publications he thought might like his tale of losing his shoes.
Months went by and Harry heard nothing back from his story submission. He’d taken a job in a local haberdashery near his apartment, just to pay his bills. Harry refused to get down on himself. He just kept writing.
Then, about six months later a letter arrived in the mail from a prestigious magazine. Excited and curious, Harry ripped open the envelope and read the note while standing at the mailbox in his building’s lobby.
Harry’s fantastical shoe tale had been purchased by the magazine. From that day, life changed incrementally for Harry. As the year went on, he produced more published content and then one day, a studio contacted him to turn the lost shoe story into a feature film.
Harry Sharp was now hobnobbing with major Hollywood players. His story was ready to go into production, and wouldn’t luck have it, the film was to be shot on location at the main store of J.B. Primrose.
The first day of shooting arrived and Harry rode the subway downtown to J.B. Primrose department store, the place he hadn’t stepped foot in since that fateful day of his interview. Approaching the ornate glass revolving door, Harry felt a hesitation in the pit of his stomach. He knew though, his life was different now, no matter what occurred so many months ago. He stepped inside the store.
A flurry of activity buzzed around the main floor as Harry sought out the film’s director. Harry had helped write the screenplay and he was expected to act as a technical advisor on the story’s subject matter. As he shook hands with the director, the filmmaker turned to his minions and shouted loud enough to hear over the din, “Everyone, everyone! Your attention, please.” The crowd of technicians and actors quieted down to hear their leader. ”I want to introduce the writer of our little screenplay, Mr. Harry Sharp.”
After a smattering of polite applause, the director bid the group back to work. He and Harry moved together over to a table where the script pages were laid out, and they sat down. “I’m curious.” Harry said to the filmmaker, “How did you happen to acquire the use of this store for filming?”
“Primrose called himself, I’m told. Said we could use the store for nothing other than on-screen advertising.”
“That’s interesting,” said Harry, and then he noticed a curious box sitting on the table in front of his place.
Before Harry could enquire about the box, J.B. Primrose appeared and stood at the side of the table close to Harry. Surprised and not knowing how to react, Harry stood to greet the older man with an extended right hand. Primrose accepted Harry’s hand with a firm grip and said, “You’ve come a long way young man, and I suppose much of it is down to me.” A wry smile appeared on the store owner’s face.
“Well, I suppose you’re right, Mr. Primrose,” Harry replied with puzzlement.
“J.B. Please. I don’t mean to take any credit for your success, Mr. Sharp. Certainly not.” Primrose continued, “But, I would venture to say the world has a peculiar way of correcting itself sometimes. Wouldn’t you agree?”
A broad smile grew on Harry’s face. “I guess you’re right about that, J.B.”
“Fortune does seem to favour the bold, particularly in your case. That box there is for you young man. I thought it only fitting, if you get my meaning.”
Harry chuckled and reached over to open the box. He pulled out a pair of brown, patent leather loafers with gold buckles; the old shoes that he thought lost to him.
Giving Harry a friendly pat on the back, Primrose said to him, “I was waiting for the right opportunity to return these to you, Harry. I don’t often apologize, but in your case, I must make an exception.”
“Water under the bridge, J.B., or should I say, shoes under the table.”
The two men shared a good laugh over the joke and then Primrose bid the production crew all the best. Before leaving, he turned to Harry and said, “I realize this is small consolation son, but as a gesture to make amends, I invite you to come up to our menswear and pick the finest suit available. Free of charge, of course.” Then, with a wink and a smile, he said, “I suspect you will need one on your impending world tour.” And with that, the old man left the store’s main floor.
Previous Chapters:
Going For Broke On Easy Street
