| General Fiction posted February 5, 2024 | Chapters: |
...8 9 -10- 11... 
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First day of business
A chapter in the book What We See
What We See - Chapter 8
by Jim Wile
| Background A high school teacher wrongly accused of sexual assault reinvents his life. |
Recap of Chapter 7: After Alan has sent Artie home, he stands talking to Tommy by the front door. Tommy’s mother returns from work. When she sees her son talking to a stranger, she orders him inside and tells Alan not to talk to her son when she’s not around. He agrees not to and returns to his house where he puts in some more work to get his business ready for opening soon.
The next morning, while working again, he is interrupted by Tommy’s mother who brings him coffee and donuts. She introduces herself as Ginnie Boardman and asks Alan to forgive her for her rudeness the previous evening, explaining that she works as a nurse in the ICU of a hospital, and an abused child with severe injuries was admitted last night, which put her in a bad mood. Alan is very forgiving, they chat a while, and Ginnie gives him permission to talk to Tommy anytime. He admires the view as she leaves.
Chapter 8
Nine days later, on a Monday in mid-June, Alan’s Electrical Equipment Repair was officially open for business. The last eight days had been a whirlwind of activity in preparation. This included a variety of tasks like installing a bell to ring when the front door opened with a customer, wiring my workshop for 220 volts, putting in extra lighting, installing and stocking bins for small parts, acquiring a number of different parts catalogs, having business cards and invoices printed up, installing work order software on my computer, and a hundred other things. I had borrowed a book from the library called How to Start a New Small Business and followed its step-by-step instructions. It had been invaluable.
To advertise the business, I paid for an ad in the Yellow Pages and took out an ad in the local newspaper. When I unlocked the front door this morning at 9:00, I was officially open. I had placed an OPEN sign on the front door as well as a rolling cart next to the door so that customers carrying a large piece of equipment could place their item on it either for opening the door or for easy carrying from their car into the shop. It can be tough opening a door when your arms are full with a large piece of equipment. I had also bought a box of donuts from Sam’s Donut Shop for the occasion and set it on the counter for customers.
At 9:05, Tommy came through the door. School had just let out for the summer, and this was the first official day of summer vacation. I greeted him. Archie was sitting up on the counter, and Tommy came over to pet him.
“Hi Mr. Phelps. Hey, Archie.” Tommy had met Archie a few days ago when Archie and I had come to greet him at the door one evening. Archie was a friendly cat and didn’t mind strangers at all. Tommy came right up and started scratching him on top of his head.
“Morning, Tommy. Help yourself to a donut.“
“Thanks.” He picked out a chocolate one with sprinkles on top. “Had any customers yet?”
“Yeah, the tenth one just left. Open five minutes, and already 10 customers!”
Tommy laughed. “So, how did you learn how to fix stuff?”
“Well, I used to love to take things apart as a kid to see how they worked. My dad had bought me a toolkit, and I spent all my allowance money on new tools too. I had quite a collection. My dad was an electrician, and he taught me a lot about electricity. I’ve always been fascinated by electrical devices, which put electricity to work for us. Fixing them is easy once you understand how they work.”
Thinking about this brought back some bitter memories of my folks fighting over the time I used to spend fiddling with electrical devices. Mom realized early on that I was dyslexic and used to spend hours with me helping me to learn to read better. The schools didn’t know much about it, and she didn’t either, until she bought a book about it and started working with me because none of the teachers would. She was very patient, and it was time-consuming, but I don’t think I’d have made it very far in my education had she not put in those hours with me.
My dad, on the other hand, had no patience for this. Turns out he was dyslexic himself and didn’t read so well, but he was a smart man and had been able to compensate. He thought I should spend my time learning a trade, such as being an electrician like him, rather than wasting hours trying to read from some storybook that was almost incomprehensible to him. It was a never-ending battle between them, with him insisting she leave me alone to fiddle with gadgets and her insisting that I would be capable of so much more than being “just an electrician,” as she put it, if I could read better.
Tommy asked another question, which brought me out of my reverie. “Do you think I could learn how to fix stuff too?”
“Well, that depends on your level of interest and how much time you’re willing to invoice in it. I mean, invest.”
Tommy had a quizzical look on his face. “I do that a lot too—say the wrong word for things. Mom says I have dyslexia. Do you know what that is?”
“Yes, I’m dyslexic too. I say the wrong word for things all the time.”
“Do people laugh at you when you do?”
“They sure used to when I was a kid like you. I was teased a lot for it. Why? Are you teased about it?”
“Yeah, especially by Artie. I don’t know why I like him because he teases me all the time, but when he isn’t teasing me, we have fun together. We like to do a lot of the same things. I just wish he’d shut up sometimes.”
“Do you know if he’s teased for anything?”
“Yeah, his last name is Intintoli. Kids call him ‘Ten-ton-toli’ because he’s pretty fat.”
“I’ve noticed that big kids who get teased and don’t feel so good about themselves will often tease smaller kids. He’s trying to get back at the kids who tease him, but he’s going about it in the wrong way—the easy way—by picking on you, who have nothing to do with his teasing. It’s because he can.”
“That’s messed up.”
“Yeah, it is. But do you know the best way to deal with it? Try playing along with it and purposely messing up a few more words. That’s what I used to do. Like, if I had said, ‘I know why the dunkling wasn’t loved by his mother,’ meaning duckling, of course, and a kid laughed about it, I might follow it with, ‘Yeah, that dunkling wasn’t so you-gly, he just wasn’t a dunkling after all; he turned into a beautiful swami.’ The kid will likely crack up, but just laugh with him. It’s hard for him to keep teasing you when you’re laughing right along.”
“Hey, that’s pretty good.”
“Or, it doesn’t have to be that elaborate. For example, a conversation with your teacher might go like this: She’s handing essays back to the class and says, ‘Tommy, this sounds like a tenth grader’s paper. How do you know so many big words?’ and you say, ‘I looked them up in the tyrannosaurus,’ and she chuckles while the kids laugh, and she says, ‘I think you mean the thesaurus.’ Then you say, ‘No, I have a really smart tyrannosaurus at home, and he knows a lot of big words.’ You see how to do it? If you’re quick and don’t let it get to you, you can turn it right around.”
Tommy laughed and said, “Yeah, I think I’ll try that out on Artie first.”
Right about then, my first customer walked through the door, carrying a toaster under her arm. She was an old black woman with a scarf wrapped around her hair. She was rather stout and walked with a cane.
“Hello, young fellow. I live up the street, and I seen your sign. You think you could fix this toaster? My grandson knocked it on the floor th’other day. He say it was a accident, but I think he jus’ bein’ careless. Anyways, it busted now. It burn the toast now cuz it don’t pop up.”
“I think I can probably fix this, Mrs….”
“Beeman. I’m Ida Beeman. Pleased ta meet ya, Mr. Alan. I seen your name on the sign.”
“It’s just Alan. That’s my first name.”
“Well, I still call you Mr. Alan. That the way I address people.”
“It’s nice to meet you too, Miss Ida. You’re my very first customer.” She beamed. “This is Tommy Boardman. He’s my next-door neighbor.”
“Oh, I know Tommy. Hello there, young man.”
“Hi… Mrs. Beeman.”
“You can call me Miss Ida too, if you want.”
“Okay.”
“You gonna be Mr. Alan helper?”
“I dunno. Maybe someday, if I learn how to fix stuff.”
“Good. So, when you think you could fix this, Mr. Alan?”
“Not sure yet until I see what’s wrong. It might be a few days if I have to order parts for it, or it might be tomorrow. Just depends on what I see when I get it open. Why don’t I write up an order for it and get your name and phone number, and I’ll give you a call later today to give you an estimate of the time and cost? How’s that?”
“That’s allll-right.”
I filled out the work order and wished her a good day. My first customer is in the books.
 Recognized |
CHARACTERS
David (later Alan) Phelps: The narrator of the story. He is a 28-year-old high school physics and natural science teacher in Grantham, Indiana in 1985.
Earl Pinkham: The principal of Grove Park High School where David teaches
Suzie Cassidy: The school secretary and mother of Tina Cassidy
Tina Cassidy: A 16-year-old high school sophomore in David Phelps's class
Bobby Harken: David's friend and fellow teacher
Archie: David's orange tabby cat
Tommy Boardman: Alan's 12-year-old next door neighbor. He is dyslexic like Alan.
Ginnie Boardman: Tommy's mother. She is 30 years old and is an ICU nurse.
Artie Intintoli: Tommy's friend who also lives on Loser St.
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. David (later Alan) Phelps: The narrator of the story. He is a 28-year-old high school physics and natural science teacher in Grantham, Indiana in 1985.
Earl Pinkham: The principal of Grove Park High School where David teaches
Suzie Cassidy: The school secretary and mother of Tina Cassidy
Tina Cassidy: A 16-year-old high school sophomore in David Phelps's class
Bobby Harken: David's friend and fellow teacher
Archie: David's orange tabby cat
Tommy Boardman: Alan's 12-year-old next door neighbor. He is dyslexic like Alan.
Ginnie Boardman: Tommy's mother. She is 30 years old and is an ICU nurse.
Artie Intintoli: Tommy's friend who also lives on Loser St.
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