The Land of Opportunity
In the next hour, he succeeded in giving away 7 flyers. This more aggressive tactic was working. But at least 80 percent of the pedestrians were getting by without Sylvia’s advertisement. He wanted more. He was committed to making this hour, the last in his shift, the absolute best. The end was near, and his patience and knees only had 60 more minutes of stress. The new and improved method involved walking toward them and demanding their attention. The polite ask went the way of the last hour. He stuck the card right under their noses between their hands and their shoulders. He’d walk backwards face to face with them if he had to. Then he’d say with a commanding tone, “Take one!” The easiest way to get away from Akram would be to take the flyer. New Yorkers must be able to figure that out, he thought.
But this tactic had its weaknesses. Now parts of the corner were unmanned when he took too many steps following a pedestrian in any one direction. He would need a team to get this done. He needed to be faster on his feet. He needed to learn how not to be jarred and give pause to to demands like “Fuck off,” that came so easily out of supposedly well-to-do, fully employed, completely civilized office workers.
The final hour was torture. This aggressive effort had barely improved his performance. And by the end, his patience was exhausted. Jack found Akram desperate, rattling the flyers in front of people, tapping their arms with them, trying to balance them on or shove them into their belongings. Jack, honored by Akram’s determination but menaced by his militance, thanked him for his efforts and paid him in cash. “I’m sure Sylvia will get some new clients from your efforts today. Please come back tomorrow morning at the same time. Oh, and I’ll give you some help getting these things handed out,” Jack said. Akram was thrilled. He rewarded himself to a cup of coffee at a nearby deli and when finished, he boarded the train for home.
The next morning, his brown shirt was still slightly damp having not dried well from the night before. But he put on an undershirt with short sleeves and felt ok. Briefcase in hand, he arrived back at Sylvia and Jack’s at 7:30 on the dot.
Jack welcomed him and introduced Akram to his idea of help. “Here, put this on over your shoulders. It’ll just rest there. And because you’re tall, this thing’ll only reach mid-thigh. You’ll still be pretty mobile. Now people will know exactly what you’re up to and you don’t have to worry about running after them so far.”
He lifted up the contraption for Akram to slide over his head. It was two boards of thin white wood on which the red words “Psychic Reading $10” were fancifully written. Four leather straps, two for each shoulder, were connecting the two planks. His head went in the middle. He was now shaped like refrigerator. Akram thought about home, about how much three plane tickets would cost and complied.
“May I still hold my briefcase?” Akram asked before awkwardly lumbering down the narrow staircase and back out onto the street.
August 30th, 2009 at 6:06 am
finally got to read the whole story, I didn’t realize I had to click on the story as I’m not familiar with blogs. I thought it was really short, now it makes more sense. Is Akram a man you’ve come across ? Have you spoken to him ? Have you had a psychic reading ? No more questions, I enjoyed the story very much. It was easy to visualize New York and Akram, and I liked that you had compassion for him.
There was an old tv program years ago it started with an announcer saying \ There are a million stories in New York…. this is just one of them.\