On Leaving the Dress Department

So much for fiction. This one is true, true, true. Yikes. But because so many years separate me from my college job, it might as well be fiction, right?

That said, for all of the bad, there were a great number of lovely folks I worked with at Woodward & Lothrop in Wheaton, Maryland a billion years ago. The store is long gone as are some of the lovely people, but memories live on. Ah, the thing of memories in which they make something that was sometimes completely awful so much better. Sepia dreams.

Many thanks to Rochelle for giving us the gift of Friday Fictioneers . . . or Friday Non-Fictioneers in this case. 😉

PHOTO PROMPT © Na’ama Yehuda

On Leaving the Dress Department

by Sascha Darlington

Her last day working in the dress department. How could she give this all up?

Count the ways, every single one of them.

The handsome man who’d changed the tag on a designer dress.

The murky one masturbating in the swimsuits.

The friend stealing from the cash register.

The blonde demanding white for her brother’s wedding.

Working until 7 pm on Christmas Eve.

Working until 7 pm on New Year’s Eve.

Herds charging through the doors for sales.

Rudeness, abruptness, being treated like an automaton.

And, for every ugly instant there were moments she’d never, ever forget,

—hugging her heart with boundless joy.


17 thoughts on “On Leaving the Dress Department

  1. That’s the thing about memories, they seem to diminish the bad and highlight the good. I wouldn’t call swimsuit guy a bad memory though. That’s hilarious. Maybe mortifying at the time, but you have to look back and laugh at that one.

    1. You’re absolutely right. Swimsuit guy was just a shake the head moment. The one that got me was handsome guy changing the tag. He was a romance hero with rotten feet. haha. Being in a job with the public provides a lot of insight! How are you doing, btw?

      1. I’ve worked retail. I know. I was fortunate to miss the worst, but I’ve heard of a homeless guy piss-walking through the store. Someone doodied outside of the bathroom. I was there when someone tried to load up outdoor merchandise after hours. The guy I was working with came and told me to call 9-1-1.

        It’s been a rough couple of years. People keep dying and leaving my friend and me their dogs. We’ve become a dog sanctuary. We’re up to 7. I’m working back into a better head space and focusing more on writing again. How are you? It’s always nice to see you pop up in FF. I still tell people that you’re the one who recruited me.

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