Calm Before The Storm

Marcella stared proudly at her work. Everything was in the right place. Nice and neat and organized. It would have been better if it could stay that way, but Mason always stressed that they made fancy displays so the customers could ruin them. Ruining them meant sales and sales kept the doors open. During the lull was a chance to repair the mess of the morning, to assess the work, and prepare for the onslaught of the rest of the day.

There were plenty of days when she skipped her lunch. There was pride in it. The other employees would take theirs, and she would soldier on and finish whatever tasks had not been done. Ashley was good with people, but shit at the labor. Tim tired quickly, and Kevin spent most of his time by the mulch. They would mill about, help customers, but none of them had an attention to detail. None of them cared enough.

It made sense for Tim and Ashley, they were just passing through on their way to other professions. Turn over was fast in retail. Mason was better than most bosses, but the nature of the jobs were transitory. Kevin however was a lifer like she was. She loved it, but Kevin was disinterested, aloof, rebellious. His cavalier attitude was abrasive at time. He wasn’t wrong in his summations of customers, but he had no gift for masking it. He was prone to saying the quiet thoughts out loud.

The minutes before the next rush were quiet. She loved the center like this. Opening and closing were the best. There were no customers and you could straighten up in silence. She reminded herself that the customers were what it was all for. Mason would remind her, encourage her, but she couldn’t stand them. Their incessant, stupid questions, their careless egos, and the ones in a foul mood were the worst. How do you shop for flowers in a bad mood?

Nothing was worse than most landscapers though. They were rude and expectant and knew tragically little about plants. There were a handful that knew what they were doing, but most needed help. Help deciding which plants, help designing their customers property, help with the most basic questions about the profession. People paid amateurs a small fortune just so they could avoid basic yard work.

None of that matter right now though. It was silent. The other employees were scattered and it was one of those rare moments where no customers skulked the yard. Everything was in rows, or orderly displays, and not a table had a vacant spot. She would enjoy her hard work for a moment. This was her lunch. She found pride in her efforts. This made all the nonsense worthwhile.

She took in a deep breath and surveyed the yard like a conqueror. The back tables, the ones she had just finished loading, were full of blooming flats of delicate flowers. The yard proper was dominated by tables of shrubs. Round globes of green, thorny vines with clusters of orange berries, and the occasional ornamental tree for decoration. Along the fence that butted between the garden center and the strip mall next to it was the perennials.

There were string lights overhead that would only really be used during Christmas time when the store operated after the sun went down. Beyond that, at the back of the building that was the store, was the pottery. There was a rabbit hutch there too. Mason swore by it. She wanted nothing to do with the mangy animals. Mason claimed that it created customer loyalty and she had seen it in action. Mothers brought their children to see the rabbits because they remembered doing the same as kids. It might work, but Marcella didn’t care. Those rodents were filthy, disgusting, animals and the farther they were from her the better.

Marcella sighed as the first customers drove their carts into the yard. She put on her facade. It would never be as pleasant as Ashley, but it was good enough to create a pleasant environment. More importantly, it was enough for Mason. He obsessed over the business. If he was happy so was she. She would greet them, direct them, and help them leave as fast as possible. They would ruin all her hard work, but after that was closing and a chance do clean it all over again. After explaining it, Mason had once jokingly commented that one must imagine Sysiphus happy.

He was some guy from Greek myth condemned to roll a boulder uphill for all eternity. Mason was always saying obscure shit, but she understood the point well enough. There were parts of the job that sucked, but there was always the moments where she could reorganize and clean and imagine herself happy.