Retail Hell by Freeman Hall Page B

Big Fancy.”
    “Oh. Right. Yeah.”
    On the fifth platform, we passed the birthday-paper-wrapped Headless Mannequins with their yellow party hat heads, and Marsha let out a gasp, “What the hell are they supposed to be?”
    “Party Animal Mannequins, I guess. I hope they don’t start dancing.”
    “You got that right,” said Marsha as we lumbered up the sixth flight. “Anyway, Mr. Lou is an absolute pig. He was visiting the store once and came into the handbag department pretending to look for something for his wife. The scumbag asked me if I wanted to go to dinner in his hotel room. You believe that? Dinner in his hotel room! Sleazy sonofabitch! His wife had just given birth in Des Moines, to Mr. Michael.”
    “CEO, President Mr. Michael?”
    “That’s the one. I’m dating myself now,” she said, wheezing and white-knuckling the handrail.“His father, Mr. Lou, was a walking hardon. He had mistresses at all the stores. I could tell you stories. . . .”
    When we got to the seventh platform, Marsha stopped for a moment to catch her breath before resuming.
    “Are you okay, Marsha?”
    “This is my bad spot. Two more flights. But I’m a tough old broad. I’ll make it.” Marsha steadied herself with the railing while trying to regain her composure. “All these damn stairs were Mr. Lou’s idea,” she gasped, “The bastard had builders install stairs in all the Big Fancy employee entrances because he felt the employees needed to get a little exercise each day before our shifts to work off our fat.”
    “Work off your fat? No way!”
    “Yes way, hon. His exact words at an employee meeting. I’m afraid so.”
    “What an ass. It’s not like we can wear workout clothes and tennis shoes to work!”
    Marsh wheezed as we started up the seventh flight. “Apparently, he wasn’t happy with the way many of The Big Fancy’s salespeople looked. He felt most were out of shape and needed to work off a few pounds. Mr. Lou was really into fitness, a big lover of Jack LaLanne. Before Mr. Lou dropped dead of a heart attack, he made his sons swear they would keep building Employee Entrance stairs. They built this store a short time later, and his sons wanted to pay tribute. Mr. Michael christened these very stairs Lou’s Big Workout.”
    “What an evil bastard,” I said, panting like a golden retriever tired of fetching, “I’m surprised there isn’t a sign when you walk in that says LOU’S BIG WORKOUT!”
    “Funny thing about that! There used to be one! Suzy didn’t like it. She felt it was too uninspiring so she replaced it with that fake feel-good- family-jewel garbage.”
    “Does Mr. Michael do Lou’s Big Workout when he visits?”
    “You kidding? That wussy? Comes in through the mall like all the other executives.”
    “He should go up and down these godforsaken stairs a couple of times. See how he likes it.”
    Marsha dragged herself up the eighth flight with a grunt.
    “Darlin’, if I had the chance, I’d make that smug little prick carry me up on his back, and I’d use a riding crop on his ass the entire way.”
    As Big Fancy Salespeople continued to exercise our allegedly out-of-shape bodies on Lou’s Big Workout, pulled muscles and cardiac arrests were not the only hazards we had to worry about on Mount Fancy.
    There was the incessant danger of tumbling down it.
    The possibility of broken bones or falling to our death was far greater. If you hit your head just right, the floor of the seventh platform could turn into a tunnel of white light.
    I don’t think anybody ever died falling down Mount Fancy, but plenty of people took spills down the mountain. Marsha told me about Elsa, an older lady from Alterations, and Trina, a young twenty-something girl from Cosmetics. Apparently they toppled down the stairs within weeks of each other. The news of their falls traveled fast, but details were sketchy. Elsa and Trina took a dive down Mount Fancy and disappeared. That’s all anyone knew. They were