On Fri, Feb 12, 2010 at 2:25 PM, Tom C <[email protected]> wrote: > Well, since the story had only 3 short episodes, I decided to finish > it in my own way... The original with contributions from Bob Sullivan > and Derby Chang starts below and the continuation starts at -- Part > II. > > Tom C. > > There's an image forming in my mind of Regina, a windswept town on the > frozen tundra of Canada, miles from the nearest neighbors. Rising > from the plains of 1 story homes and shops is a 2 story retail beacon. > It's the Regina Camera shop. In the early evening darkness I can > almost see the faces of the customers, bundled against the cold, as > they wind thru the streets toward the brightly lit shop. > > Inside the shop, hard at work is a tall, distinguished, balding > gentleman who wears a perpetual smile with a grey mustachio above it. > He is known simply as WR by his friends and foes alike. Foes, perish > the thought! That is, as the French Canadiens who come from all over > to visit would grin and say, "impossible”. He works hard at keeping > the shop stocked with every kind and brand of photography gear > imaginable. The shop is a virtual treasure chest, a cornucopia of all > good things photographic, and WR is a true and cherished friend to > all. > > As I enter the shop, walking through the lattice-windowed door, a bell > tinkles. WR is on a stepladder installing a 4 meter high fluorescent > sign in the eastern window, with large red letters running vertically, > which reads "PENTAX". > > While the artic gale swirls outside, I browse through the slightly > dusty shelves and glass cabinets. One handsome well-worn leather case > catches my eye. Inside, a weighty talisman of a long-gone era was > nestled. Many brave souls have held this instrument, austere in its > design, well-worn in its black leather and titanium. A barely-hidden > ring falls naturally into place under my left hand, an aperture > control, we used to call it. I laugh at the imitations now. The mirror > sticks, but at the last minute, gives way, revealing on the other side > of the lens, WR, now unsmiling, brandishing a wee dram. "How much?", I > tentatively ask. > > -- Part II > > A smile again slowly finds it way down WR’s countenance, furrowed > brows relaxing, followed by sparkling eyes, and an upturned mouth. He > clamps his hand down solidly on my shoulder shaking me to the core, > “What would’ya have to drink man? Anyone with your exquisite taste in > the hallowed field of legacy Pentax camera gear is a friend of mine. > Now what d’ya have?” > > I notice the professional looking name badge (“WR – Owner/Proprietor > of Regina Camera, LTD”, and underneath it the truism, “IF YOU CAN > PICTURE IT, GOOD THINGS WILL DEVELOP”). > > “Really WR, a drink is not necessary. It would only dull my senses to > this mome…”. I was cutoff by the sound of two ice cubes dropping into > a short cut-crystal glass from the tongs WR pulled from under the > counter. I then watch as a generous dose of the best Scotch Whiskey > available in Regina is splashed in on top. “Here you go”, WR says > raising his glass, “Good light to ya!”. > > Resolved, and feeling a little thirsty myself, I raise my glass to WR > and smile. “Thanks this is a special moment, eh?”. > > With that out of the way I ask again, “How much?” WR looks in the > glass display case and then picks up the camera, turning it as he > searches for some indication of the selling price. His face turns pink > and quickly goes to beat red in a New York second. > > “DAMMIT!” “HENRY!” “DAMMIT”, he shouts, his voice echoing through the > entire shop. “Henry, get in here and get in here NOW”. > > A few moments later Henry shuffles quietly in from the accounting > office in the back of the shop. He is wearing rumpled brown tweed > pants, a blue & white pinstripe shirt, un-tucked in the back, with > elastic armbands above the elbow, and a pocket protector, over top of > which is a plain black vest. Henry’s a diminutive figure, short and > of slight build with rounded shoulders hunched impotently forward. He > wears thick black plastic glasses while his short black hair lies > disheveled across his forehead. If there was a “Woody Allen Look > Alike Contest”, Henry would take first prize. > > WR reaches for the neck opening of Henry’s shirt, and grabbing it, > hoists Henry upwards, his unpolished penny loafers dangling a foot > above the floor. Henry’s eyes are like saucers but they do not meet > those of WR, which more resemble red hot daggers. Henry remains in > mid-air for several seconds but then finds his feet back on terra > firma, and his shirt collar significantly more comfortable. > > “Henry, please”, WR entreats in a normal tone, “Please make sure that > every item in our counter has an accurate price displayed, either > directly in front of, or on the item itself. If I’ve told you that > once I’ve told you a thousand times, isn’t that right Henry?” “Yes > WR” whimpered Henry, still averting his eyes. “Then why for Queen’s > sake can’t you do it?” “I don’t know WR”. “Get to it right now, > please”. “Yes WR”. > > Henry pulled the pencil from behind his ear and steno pad from under > his arm and began taking a quick inventory of items on display and > their prices, or lack thereof. He then retreated to the accounting > office to make up price tags. > > WR turned to me sheepishly, “I just don’t know what’s with that boy. > If he could just put himself in the customer’s shoes... Without the > customer, Regina Camera Shop is nothing, nothing but inanimate, hunks > of metal and glass. It’s the customer that gives a business it’s soul, > it’s vitality, it’s raison d'etre. We’re all customers each and every > day of our lives, same as we’re pedestrians. When I get behind the > wheel of a car, should I stop caring about or looking out for > pedestrians, and run them over just because I’m the driver, possessing > a powerful engine, with the protection of a steel frame and sheet > metal? Even if I have the right of way?” I didn’t answer but > certainly understood WR’s point. I would have applauded but one hand > was encumbered with the glass. > > “Come on”, he said, “I’ll show you the rest of the shop, and hopefully > Henry will have things priced correctly by the time we make our > rounds”. Well, an hour later, I can say I’m glad I wasn’t a wealthy > man when I walked in, because I surely would be a poor one now, what > with the temptations of what I saw, and the two additional Scotches WR > poured for us both. > > We strolled past the used case again and WR casually observed price > tags on all items. He asked his assistant to come help me as he > tended to the well, I’m embarrassed to use comparisons like this, > beautiful blonde at the custom film processing counter. If Henry > looked like Woody Allen, then this gal looked like Grace Kelly, Jane > Seymour, Raquel Welch, and Elizabeth Hurley all wrapped into one > package. “May I help you?”, WR asked, as he felt himself tumbling > weightlessly and helplessly into, through, and beyond, the pupils of > her cool, clear, light-blue eyes. “Yes you may”, she said in sweet, > silky soft voice. “I have several rolls of 120 format Kodak Tri-X 400. > They’re photographs I took of my kitty-cats, Scratch and Sniff”. > Partially coming back to his senses WR, agreed he could have the 16x20 > glossies ready by noon tomorrow. > > Still thinking about the kitty-cats, WR met me back at the used > counter. The price on the LX with a brand new 31mm LTD lens was > $1,000 CAD. ”Should I box it up?”, WR asked, confident of the sale. > “Yes”, I said, “and of course don’t forget it’s mate right next to > it”. WR looked at me, then at the camera, then turning his head > slowly, eyes narrowing, at the display case. Under the glass was a > second LX and lens, identical to the one I was holding. In front of > it, was a white piece of paper with writing in crisp black letters, “2 > PENTAX LX and FA 31/1.8 LTD lens. $1000 CAD - Sold as a PAIR”. > > I’m glad WR had those two drinks, and the blonde was still in the > store. Otherwise, I feared what might have happened to poor Henry. > > WR stood, dumbfounded and silent, looking up, as if to heaven, with > outstretched arms for what seemed like a minute. Then the > indefatigable smile once again reappeared. > > “Sir, I will honor that price in the display case, as I am an > honorable gentleman. It’s our mistake and I want to see you back in > here”. “Thank you”, I responded. “Having heard of you and the > reputation of Regina Camera Shop, I never doubted it”. > > “Don’t worry”, said WR, “I have a way of correcting this and of making > sure it will never happen again”. > > Curious, I decided to browse the shop and eavesdrop. “Henry, please > come here”. > > “Yes, WR?”, Henry mumbled as he approached the used counter. “Henry > do you see that sign you just put in the case? Well that little > cock-up just cost this shop $1000. What do you think I should do with > you, Henry?” > > “I wouldn’t know WR”. > > “Well I do”, WR said, flashing a toothy grin. “The refrigerator in > the lunchroom will NO LONGER be stocked with FREE tins of gefilte fish > until you’ve paid off that error! Is that understood?” > > “Yes WR”, said Henry as he started dejectedly back to his office. > > As I was heading towards the door, I heard WR sigh to himself, “Henry, > blondes, kitty-cats, gefilte fish, what a day”. > > And as I shut the door, I heard the tinkle of two ice cubes, dropping > into a short cut-crystal glass. > > -- > PDML Pentax-Discuss Mail List > [email protected] > http://pdml.net/mailman/listinfo/pdml_pdml.net > to UNSUBSCRIBE from the PDML, please visit the link directly above and follow > the directions. >
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