Were there people in the world who needed to be listened to?
I wrote "I'm a good listener!" in big letters on a banner and hung it on the thread between the cotton trees. I had decided to be a listener.
Besides, when selling shoes is a profession, why shouldn't listening be a profession? This was starting to get on my head. After all, I didn't have to make money like others. I already had all kinds of things equally with the others.
"What's wrong with you?" said I; A man in a suit with a fedora on his head walked in.
"What are you selling?"
"Well, actually, yet... I'm not selling material things."
"Hmm," the man thought aloud, putting the pack of cigarettes in his pocket. "So, what are you selling?" I guess he hadn't heard of me. "Sir, we don't sell anything yet?" The man looked around and hugged one of the ornamental trinkets inside my tiny tent. "So you're selling this? How many units?"
I wonder if he didn't hear me? Not long after, the man put his hand on his head and said, "Oh," and took out a card. The card read, "I am deaf." I immediately nailed the situation, but I was too late. No problem," I said. Then I showed the slogan by writing "I'm not selling it" on a piece of paper. "I'm so sorry," the middle-aged man said. "I'm really sorry, have a nice day." I was able to tell when he was saying these things in sign language using an app.
Shortly after the man walked out of the store, a new customer arrived. This was a man with his hair disheveled. "What are you selling here?" he asked, walking wobbly. His eyes wandered around different parts of the room.
"I am the listener, sir."
The man's hand hastily reached for one of the ornamental trinkets, and when his knee accidentally hit the table, the trinket fell to the ground, breaking and shattering. "I'm sorry, I'm very sorry, sir," he said, and tied his hand over his chin. "I'm blind, I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't want to break it. Get a new one, please."
He bowed his head and saluted and walked out. "Wait a minute, what did you come here to buy?"
"I actually wanted to take care of myself a pair of glasses. Eyewear shops use slogan banners like the one on the door," he said in a familiar voice. I understood, but this wasn't the place. When I asked, "Would you like me to help?" the man laughed with satisfaction. With his messy hair, he resembled a scientist.
"Will you buy me a pair of glasses? It's got to be around here somewhere."
"Of course," I said; "Wait here." I ran out of the store and went to an optician to buy a pair of black sunglasses. When I came running to him, the man immediately sensed me by my steps. "I hope I didn't bother," he said. I held the glasses in his hand.
"Oh," he said, and picked up the glasses and put them over his eye. "Thank you indeed. What were you selling?"
"I'm a listener." The man pondered my words for a moment. "How so? Do you listen to people? This is a really interesting profession. What department did you graduate from?" Even though I knew you didn't ask to disparage it, my cheeks were flushed. "No episode," I said confidently.
"It's a new profession, then," he said thoughtfully. "Shall we try it then?" I couldn't describe how happy I was at his words. "Sure," I said, and pulled up a chair and told him to sit down. "Tell me about it."
"Very well," he said; "Let me explain. But what?"
This question got me thinking too. "Anything."
"Okay, I found it. I loved a girl. Shall I tell you about it from there?"
"Yes," I said, and let him explain. "Will you have a drink?"
"Actually, a frothy coffee with milk would be nice," said the man in his forties with a sigh. "Okay," I said, and went to the kitchen to prepare a tray of treats. The man was pleased with my service. Then he started to explain. Years ago, he had loved a girl, but she had never given him a face. In his own words, "He rightly didn't like it" because the man was blind. By the time the girl had already married a different person, she had children."
"What do you think of the law?" he asked unexpectedly, and I put the glass aside.
"About which?"
"Do you really think people are equal?" I froze at the question.
"I guess all people are equal," I said, but the space between my words had widened, as if I wasn't sure. "I see," he said. "You're confused."
"Not really, of course there may be some innate differences," I added blushingly. The man's head seemed to lift up slightly and he shook slowly. "That's true, so I guess not even money, fame or position can flatten these people, right?"
"Of course," I blurted out, but the man liked my frankness. "Why are we trying to make them equal?" he asked, and a different person came in. What was I supposed to do now? Should I have left him and talked to someone else? How was I going to end the conversation?
"I suppose someone has arrived," the man said, turning his head over his shoulder as if he could see it. "Yes," I said in a shaky voice, and a stylish lady with glasses walked in. This was the governor's wife. "Welcome, please," I said, and the woman lowered her glasses and greeted me modestly. "Hello, what an interesting name is this? Listening. There should be more businesses like this," he said, and looked me in the eye.
The man who had just been sitting pulled himself together, "I'm going to get up now."
"No, I won't disturb you," the governor said with a smile. But the man had already risen up. So I prepared a new treat and we were left alone with the woman. "Can I tell you everything I want now?" he asked.
"Of course, whatever you want."
"Well, it occurred to me as I was passing through here. I want to tell you about the night I lost my mother five years ago." He had asked me for cold lemonade, so he sipped the yellow drink, which I made sure to put ice in. Then he began to tell the story of how he lost his mother on a spring day. This had put a tight handcuff on his life. Then he told me about his brother, who had left his philosophy department unfinished after his mother's death.
In the words of the lady, "He was now looking for the truth."
As he left, another came in, a young girl of short stature entered. Then she kept telling me for a long time that she wanted to be beautiful. His biggest dream was to be an actor, but he thought he was ugly. No one had told him that either. According to his family, just like I said, he said that everyone was equal and his perception of reality had changed, but he didn't think so.
He asked me a question. "Could people rebuild fame, money, and positions in society?"
Of course not, I snapped, and the girl played with her glasses. "So you think so," he said, pausing. "And then why doesn't the boy I love love me? Based on what? Doesn't beauty at some point replace these values? You know, it's not about money, it's about beauty, not fame, but sweetness. Or charm, not position." Then he fell silent and stood up. "I think I'm rambling," he said bitterly.
Then an old tailor entered. His eyes saw very little. He immediately pulled up a chair and asked, "Are you listening to everything?" I shook my head in exhaustion, it was really not easy to do this job from morning to night. "Yes," I said.
"You're tired," said the old man.
"No, tell me, please," I replied.
"Well, let me tell you then. My son is going to marry a girl. He wants me to renew his car. He works morning and evening, but he gets paid the same as other workers from the state." Wasn't that very natural? Where was the problem. I listened carefully to find out.
"Yes."
"Yes, my daughter, some people work for an hour at work; some for five hours; Some one day, but everyone gets the same salary. There is no unemployment, but there is no job. What do you think of the law?"
"He aims for a standard and free life with the law," I snapped, but at last I kept repeating the same words.
"So I'm, because of my age. Never mind," the old man wiped the tear from his eyes. "We old men are such."
To be continued...