February 2015 Issue of 

The Scribblers Newsletter

Happy Super Bowl Sunday to all of our football fans!  The game starts in just a couple of hours, so cheer your favorite team on and break out the wings and chips and all of your favorite junk food and enjoy the game.

In this issue of The Scribblers newsletter, we have an original story by John Matthews and a few new writing prompts.

February Writing Prompts

Each month we try to provide prompts for you to use to generate stories. Pick one or more and write 500 to 1,000 words using the prompt/s as the basis of your story.  Above all, have fun with it.  

1.  The guy at Better Buy talked me into getting a new phone to go along with my new plan.  

2.  My 18 year-old granddaughter, who I haven't seen since she was four, rang my doorbell.

3.  Mac and Julie staggered through the door of the corner bar and into the old clunker parked at the curb.

          Marley at the Furniture Gallery

 by John Matthews

     Marley banged against the screen door and  Owen Wilson laughed at the cute puppy’s ineptitude.  Then Marley backed up, took another run, and smashed through the screen, across the yard and into the neighbor’s pool to the surprise and horror of Jennifer Aniston.

     “Marley and Me” was playing on a continuous loop on the 50 inch flat screen in the showroom of Olbum’s furniture store.  More correctly, Olbum’s Home Furnishings Gallery. 

     Hank sat in a custom swivel rocker/recliner, watching, but not enjoying the movie.  He’d been in the store over two hours and this was the second time he’d viewed the scene.  The store people knew what they were doing, he thought.  The movie was the perfect sales tool. A plot simple enough to be enjoyed even if details were missed.  An attractive young couple, supposedly with limited funds, yet living in upscale comfort.   A lovable dog that appealed to the women customers, who were the primary furniture decision makers, the equally cuddly Owen Wilson, who was also enough of a doofus not to seem a threat to the husbands, whose attention was diverted by the perfectly darling Jennifer  Aniston.  The ending was sad and melancholy but also hopeful and set just the right sympathetic feeling that made a buying decision easy. 

     Hank was feeling smug for noticing all these things, even as he tried to maintain his composure over the realization that he had been reeled in and landed without ever having taken the bait.   

    Hank and Corliss had walked into the store two hours ago.  They were greeted by a smiling salesman who offered coffee, tea, or juice as though they were boarding an airplane, but did not ask if he could show them anything.  He promptly disappeared from view.  When a person walks into a furniture store, they can see where the chairs, sofas, and beds,  are.  If not, better to have them nose around on their own.    Customers following a salesman’s back are less likely to notice carefully placed impulse items.

     Hank knew they were here for a chair and within a few minutes, the unseen salesman would also know, without the need for any nosy questions.  Hank trailed Corliss though a selection of easy chairs, each one bearing a clear “Manufacturer’s price”   in black, and a “Sale price” of about half that amount, in red.  Every piece in the store seemed to be on sale.  The path through the chairs led them past models for which even the sale price was considerably above the limit Hank and Corliss had agreed on.  The prices dropped reassuringly as they approached the rear of the store. 

     Each chair was placed so as to allow a customer to drop into it for a test sit, but the more expensive ones seemed placed to make sitting easier.  The features which accounted for the price differences were undetectable.  A good reason to ask a question of the salesman, who could then launch into his pitch without seeming pushy.

     But Corliss and Hank kept their mouths shut until they reached a comfy grouping of  two leather swivel-rocker-recliners before a coffee table facing the TV screen that now showed puppies and people frolicking on a beach.    The invitation to sit was irresistible.   The chairs seemed to almost rock themselves.  Corliss knew the chairs would be well out of their price range, even though they were the only chairs on which the price tags were not glaringly evident.  This caused her to turn her head just enough to bring the salesman out of hiding, ready to field her obvious question. 

     She tried to indicate that the chairs were not really what they wanted.

     “These are very nice but I’m sure they are expensive and are probably only available in leather.  Could you show us something available in other fabrics?”

     “Oh, these are available in many coverings, and most of them are considerably less expensive than the leather,” said the salesman.  He reached over his shoulder and plopped a bundle of several hundred fabric samples on the glass top of the table. 

     With this, an exchange about prices was unavoidable.  Even though the chairs were not on sale, Olbum’s of course offered them at a price considerably below the manufacturer’s list.  Corliss picked a couple samples  after flipping slowly through the bundle.  The salesman disappeared to do a price check.  On the screen, Owen soothed and comforted an ailing Marley.  The salesman returned with a figure only about one and one half times Hank and Corliss’s  absolute maximum. 

     A funny thing about choices.  Once  a person started talking about fabric, color, finish,  it was as though the decision to buy had already been made.  These were just details.  The salesman’s language confirmed this assumption.  “You will be getting this with our unconditional 30 day guarantee.”

    Corliss looked around at the scene in which she found herself.  They had come with the idea of replacing one of the two aging chairs in their own TV room.  But when she looked at the two chairs in which they were now sitting and tried to imagine their own room with one of the chairs and one of the old ones, she couldn’t help asking, “You couldn’t offer a greater discount if we bought two?”

     This brought Hank abruptly out of the reverie caused by the view of the snow gently falling on Owen and Jennifer’s pleasant home.  Marley had passed away. As Owen comforted Jennifer, Hank felt a need to do the same to Corliss.  They had discussed the importance of always setting limits when shopping for expensive items.  But beyond their discussions, he knew what limits really meant.  Experience had taught that limits were always exceeded.  He’d learned that disclosing a limit to a salesman resulted in being shown items that were “only slightly over” that limit.   He had learned to keep in the back of his mind another figure, that of the total net worth they were likely to attain in their lifetimes.  That limit  which, if exceeded, would send them into bankruptcy, poverty, and homelessness.  Anything less than this amount was something he was not allowed to reject out of hand. 

     While figures swarmed in his head, Corliss and the salesman were becoming  old friends.  Even though a quantity discount was not available, Corliss wanted Scotchguard protection for the fabric.  The salesman said they did not offer Scotchguard but instead another treatment with a new environmentally safe product.  They were so anxious to promote it he would throw in the treatment for no charge.  This seemed reasonable for what was probably a  spray from an aerosol can , if that. 

     It was a quick glance from Corliss, but her expression told Hank argument was now hopeless.  He nodded his head and the deal was made.

     But the salesman wasn’t done.  “Now this floor model has the rubbed oak base.  The standard model comes with a black metal base.  If you’d like I can check on the prices of the wood bases.  They come in several finishes.”

     “Hold on!”  said Hank.  “We’ve been looking at this chair.”  He pointed at the floor model in which Corliss was sitting.  “Now you’re telling us that this model costs more than we’ve been talking about.  Of course the wood base is much nicer than the metal one.  But I think you should sell us the model we looked at, at the price we agreed on.”

     This was the first note of harshness in the discussion.  It flustered the salesman momentarily, but the look of horror on Corliss’ face indicated she feared they were about to be kicked out of the store.

     The salesman recovered and explained that the wooden bases naturally added considerably to the value of the chair.

     “I’m sure they do,” said Hank.  “But that’s the chair we looked at and talked about.  I don’t believe you intentionally misrepresented the product.”   He tried to make it clear from his tone that that was exactly what he thought the salesman had done.

     “I’ll have to talk with my manager.”

     Hank and Corliss had also discussed  the proper procedure during a salesman’s famous “talk with my manager.”   Remain absolutely silent.  They were being watched and probably listened to.  They knew the wait would be long enough to allow them to brood over how disappointed they would be not to get the chairs that Corliss had already started to think of as hers.

     “You scared me, Honey,“ was all she said.    Was this an accusation or a compliment?

     Hank realized one error he’d made.  He’d allowed the salesman to depart without any idea of the actual price of the wood bases.

     Sure enough.  He returned conciliatory, apologetic, and upbeat.  “My manager says since it was my error not to mention the cost of the bases sooner, he is willing to split the difference on the cost of the bases for the two chairs.  They are normally $120 each, but they will be included at half that.”

     Hank tried to convey with a stern look that he understood the price may have been doubled before the discount was applied.  He was tempted to ask if they bought only one chair, would the entire cost be deducted.   Good sense prevailed.  He had won a small point, even if only in his own mind and at no cost to the store.  It was his turn to make peace, if only for the sake of Corliss’ peace of mind, the value of which was priceless.

     “Sorry  if I sounded upset there,  It’s just that we’ve had some recent experiences where costs seemed to change after we’d made a deal.”  This was absolutely true. 

     “My fault, entirely,” said the salesman.  “I’ll draw up the sales slip.  I’ll note the free manufacturer recommended stain protection.   If you want local delivery, the charge is $59. Our men will place the chairs and even do some moving around of other furniture if necessary.” 

     “That’s $59 total, not for each chair, right?” said Hank.  He was getting tired holding this stern gaze.

     The salesman paused just long enough to give the impression that he was giving in to Hank’s hardnosed bargaining.    “Of course.  Some stores charge per piece.  The Gallery does not.”

      Hank and Corliss left the store with mixed feelings.  Owen and Jennifer were mourning the miscarriage of their first child (for the second time that morning.)    Hank and Corliss had  spent only three times their absolute limit, but they had twice as many chairs as they came for. 

     It was only much later that Hank started to mourn the loss of his threadbare JCPenney corduroy recliner. Its legs had formed flat places on the carpet. They would be almost completely covered by the circular oiled oak base of a new chair.

                                   The End                                

And Finally...

We are always looking for articles and short stories to publish, as well as suggestions for the newsletter. Please send any ideas, stories, etc. to Colleen.  We'd love to see any contributions you'd like to make to The Scribblers.

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