Please note that I have changed some things due to privacy issues. Please let me know what you think!
Markers
As I walked through the town center, I reminded myself constantly of the two things and the only two things that I needed to buy.
“Inking pens, and erasers,” I muttered to myself. “Inking pens, erasers, and only that. Nothing else, don’t go overboard.”
Just as I neared the art shoppe, a girl came from the opposite direction and entered the shop before me. I groaned inwardly. I prefer going into stores when they’re empty. People make me claustrophobic. But, then, I’d also much prefer going in when it’s busy, because then people don’t notice me as much.
As I stepped out of the heat of the day, and into the little shop, I immediately noticed the girl standing by the counter, deep in conversation with the owner. I offered a small smile, then began browsing casually, trying not to bump my backpack into anything.
“Okay, Rach,” I mumbled to myself, under my breath so that no one would hear me. “Erasers. Inking pens. Can’t be that hard to find.” I mean, it was a small shop. Not that hard, right?
Yeah, um, wrong.
It took me nearly five minutes to find those things. Okay, so maybe it wouldn’t have been five minutes if I had:
A. Not walked around like I was a zombie from the center of the earth and straight out asked where the freaking erasers were, and:
B. If I hadn’t stopped for an entire three minutes practically drooling over the Prismacolor Marker display. But then, can you blame me? They’re nice markers!
Finally, the owner must have sensed that I was looking for something. That, or he wanted to make sure I wasn’t a stalker.
“Are you looking for something?” He asked, pausing in his conversation with the girl.
“Yeah,” I said. “Do you have erasers?” Now that I think back, I probably shouldn’t had said that. It’s an art store. Of course they have erasers, nitwit. What kind of art store would it be if they didn’t?
“Oh, yeah. They’re in the far back. They’re kinda hidden, sorry,” He explained with a slight chuckle.
“That’s fine,” I said. “Thank you!”
Once again trying not to bump anything with my backpack, I made my way toward the back where -low and behold- there were the erasers. Now, not only did I feel dumb for wandering around the store mumbling to myself, I also felt doubly dumb because I had already been back here. Twice.
Stupid, yes? Yeah, thought so.
So, after I had chosen two erasers of different brands (y’know, for variety. One can never have too many erasers!), I walked back to the front of the store, and wistfully stared at the marker display again while on my way to look at pens.
Just as I had picked up two pens, I heard the girl pay for her supplies, and take her leave. Taking a deep breath, I swung around, (being careful of my backpack) and bravely headed up to the counter. I really am not good at these things. Trust me.
“Hello,” I said brightly, yanking my backpack off, and putting it on the floor. Just cause I don’t like this kind of contact, doesn’t mean I can’t fake it.
As I placed my items on the counter -the two erasers, and two inking pens- I looked again to the markers, and picked up a case.
“Could you tell me the price on these, please?” I asked, handing him the box.
“Sure!” He took the box, and held it under the barcode scanner. After a moment of computer clicking, and typing, he told me the price.
“The price of these are… thirty dollars and thirty-three cents."
I grimaced by accident, and took a step backwards. The owner gave me an odd look. I didn’t blame him. While the markers were very, very nice, they were ten dollars above my budget, not including the supplies I had on the counter.
“Never mind, then,” I hastily told him. “Above my budget.” I took the box back, and returned it to the display.
“Yeah, they are kind of expensive,” He admitted, “But they’re very nice markers. Would you like to try one?”
“Sure!” I exclaimed, maybe a little too enthusiastically. I went back to the display counter and grabbed a box. Before I had a chance to open it though, he said, “Grab the other ones next to the boxes. I looked, and saw what I had thought were paint tubes when I had looked before. They were markers, instead. But, seriously. Why would you keep paint tubes next to markers? Haha, you’re so cute, Rachel. Really smart, too.
I grabbed a black one (because those things have got to make for some awesome inking effects! Think about it.), and turned back to the counter. A plain piece of white paper had been laid out, just waiting to soak up the ink from the marker. I uncapped one end -they were double-sided, look at that!- and drew a stroke across the paper. A nice thick, black line followed the movements of the marker, and I couldn’t help but marvel at the niceness of it.
“What are you working on?”
The question caught me off guard. I paused in the middle of drawing an eye, and said oh-so-brightly, “Huh?” Then it dawned on me that he didn‘t mean what was I drawing here. “Oh! Nothing, at the moment. I just like to be prepared.”
In truth, I’m just a sucker for good markers.
“Oh, I see. The nice thing about these,” the salesman said, “is that they blend really nicely.” He got up out of his chair, and reached over to the display rack, grabbing a hot pink marker. He sat back down, and slid the paper toward him. He uncapped it, and made short strokes, blending the pink into the black. It looked fantastic.
“Yeah, those do look nice,” I murmured. “How much are these by themselves?”
I waited while he scanned it into his computer, and nearly whooped with joy when he said, “Just a little under three dollars.”
“Nice!”
I returned to the rack and grabbed two more black markers, then turned back to the counter, placing them with the rest of my items.
The owner added up the rest of my purchases, and I nearly whooped again when I got a fifteen percent discount (No, I’m not special. Everyone who buys art supplies in there gets a fifteen percent discount. But, it still feels nice!). All together, the total came out to fifteen dollars and twenty-six cents.
“Would you like a bag?”
I thought for a moment, then said, “Yes, please!”
He gathered the items, and slipped them into a bag, along with my receipt.
“Thank you.” I smiled graciously, picking up my backpack, and slipping the straps over my shoulders. Then, added as an afterthought, “I’m sorry for traipsing around your store randomly, looking for erasers.”
“Oh, no problem!” He said, laughing a little bit. “That’s what it’s here for. Have a nice day!”
“Thank you,” I replied, waving. “You too!”
As I left the shop, and stepped out into the bright sunshine, I couldn’t help but grin to myself as I peeked into my bag. Sure, I can be awkward while talking to complete strangers, or going into tiny stores when they’re completely empty, but, the results are completely worth it.
Oh, yeah. These markers were totally worth it.
