why not smile?
he used to pull me into that office
almost weekly
it always smelled of coffee and his bad breath
i would sit there thinking
that he should see a dentist
while he ran down this week’s list of my infractions
curt on the phone with customers
curt on the sales floor
five days without shaving
wine and food stains on my pants
and my eyes red from whatever i did when not there
then he’d tell me that i was lucky to have this job
this isn’t a bad job, he’d say
which was easy for him to say
because it had become his career
but for me it was the only job
that i could find in buffalo
i get it, he’d tell me
sometimes a job wears you down
sometimes the public does
but these customers put my kids through college
they put food on your table
which explained why i hadn’t enjoyed a meal
since i took this job
this job is a piece of cake, he’d say
but you, i don’t get you
you’re an enigma
you walk around this store like you hate everything
you don’t smile
you don’t talk to your co-workers
you show no emotion at all
then he would smile wide
and the room smelt worse than before
see? he’s say, pointing at his face
it’s easy
it’s easy to smile, john
why not smile
every once in a while?
then he’d dismiss me like we’d made real progress
he’d unleash me back onto the sales floor
where some lonely old woman
would start yelling at me
about why we were out of stock on sale white zinfandel
or some kid would knock over a whiskey display
and his mother would yell at me about lawsuits
and i’d start thinking about how
there were no other jobs in buffalo
how i was stuck in this place for nine hours a day
how i’d commit suicide rather than smile at this place
and i knew i’d be back in his office the next week
smelling his bad breath
the two of us hopeless
and worn out with each other
but doing that same song and dance.
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