Читать книгу Death by Manicure: The Case of the Poison Polish - Dr. Robert T. Spalding Jr. - Страница 9

For the first few weeks of his sudden freedom from having to work Tad actually enjoyed having a more relaxed lifestyle. He could get up when he felt like it and not be in a rush to get ready to go to work. He could sit around his house all day in his pyjamas if he felt like it. And sometimes he did, or rather he made himself do it just for the simple fact that he could. He was his own boss for once.

Eventually he applied to a few cosmetics companies in Texas hoping that something would happen. The bills didn’t stop coming in just because regular checks did, and they still had to be paid. He had not ruled out the idea of relocating to a different state. After all Texas was not exactly the beauty capital of the world. There were much more glamorous states and cities; New York, Los Angeles and Chicago to name but three.

The letters he had been getting back from potential new employers were of the standard, “We thank you for your interest in our company but we are not hiring at the present time,” variety. Some added a few frills and bows to the effect that the company would keep his resume on file and be in contact if a suitable vacancy arose in the future, but Tad was not holding his breath. Some company’s idea of a file was the wastepaper basket; that was just a harsh fact of life. The simple truth was that most companies, at least the good ones, got far more people interested in working for them than they could ever hope to employ. Times were hard and many companies were tightening the purse strings and cutting jobs rather than creating more positions.

Also, being on the wrong side of 40 didn’t exactly count in his favor. Experience usually was a dominant factor but only up to a point. Just a few years makes the difference between a person who had a wealth of experience and a person who was ready to be slung on the scrap heap. Tad had given the best years of his life to ZOPIE without a doubt and his best years were behind him in the eyes of any new potential employer. He never really took stock of the money that his innovations had made for the company, but he estimated that by the time he left ZOPIE, it was into seven digits.

At length, tired of too much freedom and no income, Tad decided that it was time to get off his butt and do something to pick himself up out of the doldrums. The fact that he was hung over didn’t help in the least. He’d drunk a half-bottle of Jack Daniels the previous night and wasn’t feeling his best for this sudden move to change courses. Getting showered and dressed were a first step in the right direction.

Tad squinted as he went out into the bright sunlight of a Texas summer morning. The light hurt his eyes, but he didn’t bother to figure out how long it had been since he’d bothered to leave his apartment. Maybe it wasn’t the best time to get his life back on track, but it was easier to find an excuse not to do it, so he figured the best way was to just do it. He needed to find a place to set up shop. He had been looking in the previous day’s newspaper for vacant property to let and there were a few that were nearby. The problem with newspaper ads was that they were often economical with the truth. The best way was to check them out in the cold, harsh light of day instead of under a lamp at 9 p.m. after a generous dose of bourbon and cola.

***

As Tad checked over his new property, he suddenly realized why his dream property had been such a bargain– it came with a trio of bozos next door that made the Three Stooges look like geniuses. But his philosophy was to keep out of their way as much as possible and to hope that they would leave him in peace. In the mean time he had more pressing issues like heading to the bank for a loan.

Tad had an 11 o’clock appointment at one of the local banks. He had filled out a form and dropped it off at the bank and an appointment had been made with one of the loan officers so his application could be considered.

“Good morning, Mr. Barger, please have a seat, can I offer you a coffee?”

“No thanks, I’m fine,” Tad said as he accepted the proffered fabric-covered armchair.

Taking a deep breath he decided to go ahead and take the plunge, but before he could open his mouth the bank officer asked, “Okay, we’ll get right down to business. I just need to ask you a few routine questions. Mr. Barger, are you in full-time employment at present?”

“No … I’m not, I was … I left my last job. I need the loan to start up my own business,” Tad responded feeling more nervous with each word.

“Okay, not a problem. So you would like to borrow $5,000. Is that correct?” the officer asked, his pen poised over the application.

“Yes, that’s right. How soon could I get it?” asked Tad, seeming a little anxious.

“We’ll need to run a few basic checks on your financial history and assuming everything is in order you will have the money next week,” said the loan officer.

“That’s great. Thank you very much,” relieved that this was all there was to it.

“You’re welcome; have a good day,” the banker said as he stood to see Tad out.

As Tad walked out of the bank he felt like his luck was changing for the better. It had stopped raining and he managed to jump out of the way just in time to avoid being soaked by a car running through a large puddle by the side of the road. His good mood came to an abrupt end when he got back to his salon and the Three Stooges were there ready to unleash one of their “witty” verbal assaults.

“Hey look guys, its Mr Faggot returning to run his little girly store for sad bimbos with money to blow. Go to LA, man, that’s where they want freaks like you - or better still San Francisco,” said Brian, one of the trio.

“Come on over, guys. I may even give you a discount,” said Tad, for the first time giving his neighbor as good as he got.

“Why you ...,” said Brian all set to get into a fight until Gus and Hank restrained him.

Tad quickly went into his salon. It was like a sanctuary in that the male egos of his neighbors would never allow them to set foot in the place even if the intention was to torch it. Their rationale was that if anyone saw them in a nail salon they could never live it down. Of course, things would work wonderfully if Tad never had to leave, but this was impossible.

For someone who was supposed to be so assured in his own sexuality, Brian certainly made a lot of comments about that of others, Tad thought, as he got busy. Gus and Hank would never be brave enough to tackle the issue. Their idea of stimulating discussion was arguing about which NFL team had the hottest cheerleaders.

Despite the bad feeling over the brush with his neighbors, Tad experienced a buzz of excitement at being his own boss for the first time in a proper business. He had done things like selling homemade cookies as a kid to householders in his local neighborhood, but there was hardly any financial risk involved there. What he didn’t sell he just ate and most kids in that situation actually hoped for few sales. He’d had experienced nasty bosses - not so much at ZOPIE, although there had one or two even there - but mostly in the series of odd jobs he had taken while he was at college.

The windows of his new premises had been soaped over to signal that the property had been vacant, so one of Tad’s first jobs was to get them cleaned. As he bustled about with cleaner, water and a brush, he quickly learned that it was harder than he had imagined. Unwilling to give up at the first obstacle and bolstered by his successful meeting at the bank, Tad had to put a fair amount of elbow grease into the job, but somehow it felt good to roll up his sleeves and get his hands dirty. It was also exciting to see the glaze of soap disappear and the feeble sun behind allowed to pour into the shop.

This was a world away from the austere labs of ZOPIE. He kind of missed the banter despite chemists not exactly being renowned for being the life and soul of the party or at anything that didn’t involve talking among their own kind for that matter. He was already thinking ahead, wondering that if this venture took off whether or not he should take on some staff. He was a qualified manicurist and had moved into chemistry because the money was better and he didn’t always enjoy dealing directly with the public.