I'm late again.
Today would have been the perfect day for a lazy stroll down to the office. I could have stopped by the café, had a piece of cake and a coffee with a lot of whipped cream.
But I slept in today and I'm late.
I run down the lane towards the bus stop with my hair flying out behind me and my bag bouncing wildly. My landlady gave me a piece of toast as I ran out. I shoved it into my mouth and it's almost falling out now.
My legs are burning as I stumble onto the bus I barely managed to catch and I pant towards an empty seat near the window. I haven't run this far in ages and I am paying the price for it.
I plug my ears and let the music ease the adrenaline out of my veins.
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There's barely any time for me to smooth down my hair and wipe the sweat off my face before the client walks in. Jay shows him in and shoots me a thumbs up before leaving to get some files.
My client does not sit down immediately -as I expect him to- but walks around the room, examining the décor.
He's a tall man who looks about late twenties. His expensive hair is styled in a fashionable nest. But it has gone flat, giving one the impression that he just got out of bed. His piercing eyes and eager nose make his handsome face cold and indifferent, and his leopard print fur coat and golden shoes look positively ridiculous.
I have to stop myself from grinning and introduce myself.
There's a bored look in his eyes as he answers,
"I'm looking for a centerpiece kind of look. Something that screams sophisticated and elegant and Me."
He makes his way to the sofa and lowers himself onto it. He looks at me expectantly, with an eyebrow raised.
I silently will Jay to come faster and smile as I sit down.
"Of course, sir. Here, we make garments based on your expectations and preferences, from fabric to embellishments. Tell me what's on your mind."
He leans forward and asks,
"How about color? Who decides that?"
It almost sounds like a trick question. A trick question from a ten year old.
"That is also your preference. If you wish to decide on a color yourself, we will provide you with the resources you need. If you want us to pick a color for you, we can recommend some which will look the best on you, but the final decision will always be yours."
I'm not sure if I've given him the answer that he required. But, the doubt that I didn't know he had in his eyes disappeared and he leant back and crossed his arms.
"Then lets get started." He says. Jay walks in, right on time, with a bunch of files, brochures and samples. I can see the laughter in his eyes as he sets them down on the tepoy and takes a seat beside me. He opens his laptop and begins to record the details
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"Four hours."
Jay slumps down beside me. He looks as exhausted as I feel.
"That spoiled brat took four hours!?" My office is pretty much immersed in a truckload of samples and sketches.
"It's not like he starved us or anything. Besides, the outfit he ordered was damn expensive."
I know I'm trying to reason with the wind. We started at around a half past nine in the morning and ended at two in the afternoon. Not to mention that Jay had to run to the café thrice to cater to that man's demand that we provide refreshments. I pull some samples towards me and proceeded to arrange them.
"What was that guy's name again?"
"Joshua something. I really didn't pay attention. Let's go have lunch, Boss. I'm craving meat."
Leaving the office half cleared, we head out. Jay knows the best restaurants in town, so I'm sure lunch will be a good reward for the hours of patience we've exercised today.
The Little Squid is a ten minute walk down the hot road.
It's a small restaurant which, contrary to it's name, is a chicken and pork dumpling shop that serves the most exquisite homemade dumplings you'll find in the world. Since we are regulars, the old lady at the counters simply smiles and hobbles off to the kitchen to bring us two fresh steamed buns stuffed with pork. We dig in like we've never seen food before in our lives.
"Second round, Boss?"
Jay's face is still full of dumplings. So is mine. But I can't resist more.