Unsafe New York:Part Five

Well, here we are again. I was about to swear off writing this crap and got ready to remove the blog for New Yorkers have been strangely behaving lately when - lo and behold! I was severely dissapointed and thwarted in my intention...On August 16, 2006, this blog was saved by a manager from a east village candle therapy and "spiritual" paraphernalia shop: "Otherwordly waxes". Ready?...

SHOPPING FOR SOME INCENSE STICKS OR "STOP LOITERING":

It was around 2pm and I finally left my house. Crawling on the subway, I have given myself over to phantasies. I was heading over to an east village candle therapy shop where one could buy incense sticks, oils, occult books and all other physical stuff that is related to a wonderful otherwordly non-physical stuff. Stuff that is supposed to enhance your life, I suppose, or as we will come to see can actually make that life a diffucult and a painful experience. For all I cared, I needed a few incense sticks and cards. Sensations and impressions are important to me, I an a live human being who does not live only in her/his head. I thought with pleasure on how I will walk in, smell in the delicious smell of mixed oils and dried roots, will see a friendly face of a fellow being who is interested in self enhancement and connection to nature...Right...
Excited and unaware of what was yet to follow, I found my way to 7th street and looked for the store. The day before, on Monday, it was closed, and I was hoping that like some restaurants, the folk in the store have just designated Mondays as their weekend days, and will be back to work on Tuesday. Both my hope and my supposition were undeceived: if only my person was not in her expectations of a normal business civility! So, the store was open and I walked in. The layout of a store was different from what I remembered it: the books were nowhere to be found, the incense sticks were not easily located as well. Cards seem to be non-existent. After struggling sufficiently by myself and receiving no suggestion of help from devouring his extensive vegetarian selection store "manager" (what trouble people of a female gender get in when a much as chewing a gum, I have observed liberties to be much greater in case of men), I have finally located the incense by myself. I have helped myself to three types, and checked for Egyptian astrology cards. They seemed to be missing but I couldn't really ascertain it: the African, Aztec and Native ones I have already found were mixed up and in pretty well, and I didn't want to make myself the arbitrator of the store's policy by sorting them out, neither did I want to face the gargantuan task of looking for what I needed in this mess. So, I asked the store worker for help: excuse me, do you have the Egyptian astrology cards? Without blinking, the store manager answered rather hostily, staring at me without blinking: "no. What?" Apparently it is always wiser to answer negatively first and inquire to what, later. I have repeated my question this time supplementing it with a hopeful phraze "or do you have some cards in the back?" "No," followed a curt response, "whatever is there."
Having accpeted this sad message I headed over to the counter to pay for my purchases. I have paid and headed over for the exit when my eye caught a stand with jars: these were various potions and powders. Although the purchasing procedure was an experience in itself, and I should have heeded the warning, I have dismissed it and proceeded to live. My interest was caught by the jars and I wanted to look at them. Some contained incense for spells, others roots or dried leaves. I started reading the headings, deciphering an unclear and convolutedly scripted inscriptions, struggling to understand half of the words. Many of them I did not know in English. But although I stayed to look, I didn't dare to ask for help from the person who worked in the store. I have already demonstrated that when I need help - I ask. I left no unclarity but neither do I have to constantly reassert what has been asserted. That demand on the part of anyone is presumptious of my inferiority. By the way, I have asked another question from the store person, right before paying for the items I have purchased. I have inquired as to what a sage and eucalyptis were for and havw received an identically curt and hostile response as in the firs case. Only a degree of growing, unreasonable irrirtation differentiated the two answers. The worker also deemed to rip othe money out of my hand, push the change into my palm and watch we breathing heavily as I placed the change into my wallet. His concetration was so intense, I thought he expected me to throw the money into my bag and run out of the store! He seemed to be very upset with the fact I did not move at a speed of light, I could almost feel his thoughts and desires, that's how intense the person was, in his rudeness.
So, having encountered this negative approach to my person, I asked no more. I did get eventually directed to the incense that "has description written on it."
Well...In any case, I was checking out the jars with roots and herbs, when I heard the loud footsteps behind me and the "manager" approached me from behind. He made a sharp turn right before that critical step that would have run him into me, looked at me strangely, and... turned off the air conditioner. He then exited with a slam almost pressing against me. I remained looking.
The manager was half turned as he was smoking (I believe he was smoking but couldn't vouch for it, and soon you will know why I couldn't recalled it). Meanwhile, I enjoyed the lay out of the store. 75% of the powders were missing but there were statues and amulets: I moved over to my left and checked them out. Suddenly the "manager" stormed in. He closed the door behind me. He stood there very dramatically, allowing the momement of silence to inflitrate the air. "What arre you doing" he barked or howled, it was something unearthy, then that quickly changed into "do you need any help?" supplemented by both hands pressed into his hips and a facial expression to rival only a Black Queen during the trial - "off with his head" scene, from Alice in Wonderland. I turned around, a bit surprised: he sounded somewhat angry, hateful and venomous. He looked truly shaken. I calmly reflected and asked him if he had the missing in the jars herbs. "No," he threw at me with a challenging air. "Well, then, I don't. But thank you." I turned around and continued to engage in my looking, when I realized he had no intention of leaving. He was still behind me! He run around me (!!) and stood in front of me. He panted and looked like an upset puppy whose owner refused to play with him. I stopped and looked at him: what is the meaning of this? His hands were firmly pressed into his sides, his eyes kept darting at a closed door (new customer, a fresh person to harass?...), his lips were dripping saliva. His face was contourted in a grimace. I started to back away to the door, when I caught myself and told myself that I was probably overreacting to how he looked - the guy may have had a high temperature and couldn't help dripping saliva, or maybe had a back problem and had to prop himself up as he stood. He may have had uncontrollable shakes and had to run and shake his hands. I smiled politely at him and waited to see what he had to say. He opened his mouth. His eyes were buldgin. He was shaking. His lips were shaking too. He wiped salive from his mouth. Finally. The trickle was still on his chin. I felt an irresistible sadness whose origination I could not trace. I prepared to listen most carefully.
Finally he spoke, and it was after the passage of some time, and those were his words to me:
"You, you are here for what?! What are you doing here? Tell me? Are you trying to make a point or something? Ha? Ha? You are going to be walking around and looking at things because I was not nice to you when you bought your stuff?" Having spoken thusly, he fell silent. I painfully reflected that this is how I must look post bad coitus. He stood there and shook. His outstretched finger was inches away from my slim shoulder. It looked like he really wanted to poke it into that crevice between the front bone and the back bone, he kept eyeing that crevice with a strange hunger, but at the end, he didn't dare. I brought my shoulders closer together and felt the chill. My crevices shook inwardly.
"Excuse me, I do not understand you?" I asked with a smile.
"You know very well what I am talking about." He nodded his head with conviction. "You know." He winced and made a sob. (!) At that point words started pouring out of his mouth, poor thing shook and convulsed and grimaced, it was a sight to behold. But through the many shakings, and through the many grimaces, here is what he conveyed to me further:
" You are here, and you are acting weird. The vibe is now weird. I feel weird. I feel that the vibe is creepy. You came in and bought stuff and then you were looking at stuff. Why? What is there to look at? (Indeed...) Why are you looking? (?) I left the store... then came back in, and the vibe is weird. I feel weird. You are looking at things. I came back, and you are looking!"
I tried to interrupt the flow before the man would have a heart attack. "Sir," I tried to no success. The man was onto the idea that I was there buying things and looking for things! How could I convince him that I really...did do it...
I gave up on trying to explain myself: yes, guilty, guilty of buying, guilty of wanting to buy more. Guilty of looking. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. But gave up. Finally he stopped and looked at me. I asked him: is there any problem? Why are you yelling at your customers? He stopped. He closed his mouth. He looked at me in disbelief and shock: "You, you are acting like you don't know what I'm talking about." ! It was now my turn to look at him in disbelief: "I don't. Why are you yelling at me, sir?" "Miss, miss, I only asked you if you needed any help." He said disheveled, disoriented and shaking and looking at me with hatred and spitting saliva out of the corner of his mouth. He started to back off. I, encouraged by his receeding fit, took a step closer and spoke affirmatively:
"No, you didn't only. I've answered you long time ago, and you were unable to help. Is there any other problem?" He was silent. He said loudly, actually still yelling: I had to ask you if you needed any help. That is all. Because you...you are... loitering. That's it. You are here half an hour, you are looking at things and ! loitering!" He tasted the last word as if it was a treat. It suddenly came to him and he was now, happy. He silently mouthed it a time or two. He looked at. He was breathing heavily and his mouth was opened.
"Sir, with all due respect, I just bought something and I have been in the store for under 15 minutes."
"Yes, you bought something (spit, spit) a few dollars, and what do you want now?"
"Sir, I bought things from your store and was checking out your selection."
"Ok,what do you need then? Ha? Tell me?"
Came my turn to get upset: "What is it? I am going to get interrogated into buying something or responding to you?" I thought to myself. This could not be happening. This is New York, and this is a business, and this person who works here just closed the door and blocked the exit while yelling at me, spitting at me and interrogating me? Especially after I've just spent my money in this store and was considering spending more? I stood there watching this as a bad film.
He continued now with a different accusation. "Well," he stepped towards me. "What do you need? Well, what?" Too shocked to send him to hell I responded: I was looking for roots, but you don't have them. I am also looking for some statues." He took another step toward me: ok, what, what statue? I snapped: "Sir, what are you doing? I am looking for statues. If and when I find them or it, I will let you know. If I need help, I will ask for it." He stepped back. He looked utterly lost. I said softly and unmenacingly, remembering to draw out my words with distinct lip movement, keeping the voice calm and even, and keeping my face friendly: "you asked me if I needed help. I told you what I was looking for. You said you didn't carry it. I thanked you. Then you started yelling at me and accusing me of some irrational things. (Here I caught myself that I may be agitating him and he will fly into a rage and trash the store) You claimed that I was- "loitering" after I bought things in your store.
"A couple of dollars" - he then corrected himself quickly, " a few things, and you were.."loitering"."
"Sir, - now it was my turn to get upset, I slightly raised my voice, "I stayed in your store to look for more things because something caught my eye. I was looking around for items."
"Aha!" triumphantly he screamed. I thought he was going to add victoriously (so you were looking!) but he caught himself. Then he went confused. Then he said: "But why so long? Why such an inordinaly long amount of time?"
"Long," I thought to myself. "Buddy, you must be strung out on drugs or something, it's been 20 minutes AT MOST, and 10 of them I spent on incense.
"Yes, you look longer than other customers. And you look everywhere. Why are you looking at things in the store? Ha?" I looked at him: did he realize where he was saying or was he beyond that now? Far, far away in a no-man's land? I said calmly looking him straight in the eye: "I was looking at my own pace. "Too long" he shrieked. And jumped behind the counter. "So looong," he repeated with anguish, almost languidly. "And you were not looking. I saw you. You scratched, then you took out the cellphone out of your pocket, then you looked at it, then you looked at the statue."
"Wow, Dana. You are behind a closed door with this guy." The guy was watching you non-stop and every move. Oh my God.
"Why were you looking at me so intensely?" I asked. Let's play the game.
"Because, because, "
He stopped. He looked at me. I saw some semblance of reason in his eyes. "Oh, because there are junkies and thieves come to the store and steal stuff."
"I bought from you."
Now he was not listening. Something seemed to click in that head of his and he now had another subject for yet another monologue that he recited to himself, he even seemed to be answering for me as well: "I had to ask you if you needed help because you were here a long time and we have junkies coming in and stealing stuff. I don't know you."
"Would you like to check my bag?" I suggested calmly.
"No!"
"No, but I insist." I said.
"No.I am just explaining why I had to ask you if you needed help." He refused to check my bag.
"But that's understood. What I don't understand is why you had to yell at me and accuse me of some "vibe" and some "weirdness" making irrational and insulting remarks to your customer?"
"You are being irrational." He giggled nervously into his hand. He looked at me with a doubt: no, didn't get it? He dropped his hand. He put them in his pockets. He moved his feet. His shoelaces were untied. His hair disheveled. He was dripping sweat and saliva.
Ok, Dana, we are going to go over it one more time:
"You asked me if I needed help, I asked for items, you didn't have them."
"You can't loiter! I will call the police!" He bit his lip and made a fist. His shoelaces were still untied and toes faced inwards.
"What do you define as "loitering?" I inquired.
He said: spending time in the store.
So, any time in the store spent, under any circumstances, is "loitering"? And is "loitering" an illegal activity for which one may call the police?
"But that is without a purchase. I purchased." I said out loud.
"A couple of dollars." He said. Was he bend on isulting his customers?
"Irrelevant. I purchased and looked around for more. Besides, I was here for half an hour altogether, if, with you screaming at me for the past ten minutes."
"All I'm trying to say is that you can't come in and stay here for the next eight hours."
"Have I yet?"
"No, but if you will I..
"Sir, have I stayed for eight hours? I bought something and spent 20 minutes in here altogether."
"You were looking at stuff for a long time."
"You will not tell me how long I should look and how I should look."
He was visibly upset: no? Really?
"But you look for longer time than other customers!"
"So? What bussiness is it of yours and who authorizes you to tell me how to conduct myself when I come to purchase from your store? Other customers sense of timing is not a measuring stick for another customer. "
"But as a store manager..
..."you have no right to dictate if people should look a certain way while checking out your goods, or if they should look at them a certain way. (That point had to be made, the guy was imagining himself a Nazi of time and behavior) So, if I need any further assistance, I will request it of you. If you would like to check my bag, you are welcome to do that. Any other claims?"
"You are accusing me of something I didn't do!" He screamed.
"What? Do you have anything else to say to me? Do you want to check my bag? I added.
-Negative.
"Do you have the items I've requested?"
Nods his head "no."
"Do you have any other pretensions? Yes or no?"
Silent.
"I will finish looking at the things I was looking at. You can help me by telling me how much this statue of Shiva costs. Is it Shiva, by the way (Hindu gods have lots of similarities and it's easy to get confused, as an amateur. People carrying the goods usually are supposed to be a good source of information as to what it is they are carrying).
Nods his head: I don't know.
"Ok then."
Meekly he ads: you can look at things, and if you need any help I will...I mean, you, ask. He pauses and thinks. He is confused and his eyes are moving rapidly from side to side. His head is shaking. His limbs hang. I check out a couple of items and leave.
"Do you need any help?" He ads as I exit. His hands are grabbing a counter. I turn around:
"You asked me if needed any help. Second time, and I said "no. Do you want to check my bag?"
"No." He is really upset at a mention.
"Do you have any other problems?"
"No."
"Have a nice day then, sir." I added as I exited and headed over to meet a friend for coffee.
"Jesus Christ." I heard behind me. I wasn't sure he was not praying.