Sunday Story- Eidetic Part 1
Part 1
Eidetic- relating to imagery mentally recalled and reproduced with extreme detail and accuracy
Ex: An eidetic memory comes in handy. And it did for me during my time as a loss-prevention specialist for a mom-and-pop antiques store in Sheboygan, Michigan. You’d think there wouldn’t be the need for, or the money for, a loss-prevention guy at a store like that. And you would be right on one of those fronts- I didn’t get paid shit. I asked to be compensated in Trident Layers, but the best they could do was Wrigley’s Doublemint. The little 35 cent 5 piece packs. You know, the rinky-dink ones that they keep at the check in desk at old Lincoln log looking motels next to a surprisingly useful and easy to navigate cartoon map of the city and its attractions. Shout out to the guy who makes those maps. Is it one guy? Or a company? Seems like a lot of work for one guy, but that style is entirely singular. It can’t be mimicked. You try to recreate one of those maps and your best effort will resemble an early rough draft of the Simpsons: Hit & Run map. To make it look cartoony but also real, now that took talent.
Back to my gig. So yes, there we were out in Sheboygan. If you don’t know anything about Sheboygan, allow me to fill you in. The people there don’t live for much other than prescription drug abuse and the hunt for a rare period piece- think something colonial and mahogany. Often, the pastimes of drug abuse and antique hunting commingled into some psychedelic episode of antiques roadshow played out in real time for the town cretins. So, case in point, that was why the store- aptly named “Antique Addicts”- required a loss-prevention specialist such as myself.
A little background on me and why I was specifically called in for this precarious mission: I spent 5 years in my early 20’s as a security guard outside an artisan jerky hut in Ann Arbor. A lot of real outdoorsy woodsmen types wanted our product but weren’t willing to pay the premium for our more select cuts- things like moose backstrap and our signature antelope fatlegz . During that time I developed a trained eye. I could spot a stolen Slim Jim (Our more robust version was called a Slender James) on a powerline worker from 30 feet away. I apprehended many ne’er-do-wells in those days. I was doing the Lord’s work. I kept our meat off the street.
That was where they found me- the owners of Antique Addicts. I didn’t even have to submit an application, they specifically sought me out. Word of mouth was a powerful thing around those parts. Also, nobody could be bothered to read, so résumés were pretty much useless. These were real-world-experience people. They didn’t trust book learning. They’d much rather hire someone who had been thrust into the fire & flames and came out the other side uncharred (save for some burnt meat scraps that rubbed off on one of the 7 back left pockets of my cargo shorts).
I was surprised that they needed my services at their store. I mean, everyone wants some jerky, but who would want to steal some old, rickety cabinets? Crackheads, it turns out. And lots of them. During my first shift at Antique Addicts I noticed an emaciated man in a Frosted Flakes t-shirt eyeing a Douglas Fir wardrobe from the early 1800s. My first sniff of action, or so I thought. As the man leaned over to examine the bottom drawers, I approached him slowly from behind. I looked over my shoulder at the store manager, who was helping out another customer, but was also making a furious “Stop it! No!” gesture with his hand near his throat. I was quick to wave him off, and I mouthed the words “I got this” as I approached the suspect. Who was the expert here anyways?
So I put the gaunt man in a full nelson and told him to “STOP RESISTING!”. Well, I guess my spidey senses weren’t attuned to the world of antique thievery quite yet. The manager immediately rushed over and demanded that I put the guy down that very instant. “Terrance! I’m so sorry about that! Forgive my understudy here, it’s his first day in loss prevention.” Said the manager to Terrance in an effort to console him. “Tell that mutt to keep his filthy paws to himself!” shouted Terrance in response. The manager whisked me away and began to lecture me on my mistake. “That man you just apprehended was Terrance Poconopis, a damn good customer of mine. He just looks that way because of his hunger strikes. See, Terrance is a man who champions social justice. He will hunger strike for just about anything. This time around it’s because of the water situation in Flint. No food til flint, he says.” I told the boss that I understood. I would be better in the future. Track marks! I would look for track marks. Going off of the customer’s frailty and decidedly ridiculous attire would no longer suffice.
End Part 1