01 - Saturday, V minus 1 day -
Sam woke up almost like every morning, except this one was not the usual Saturday that for so many years had been a part of his life. There was no laundry to be done –the chores had been carefully done the night before-, nor floors or gritty toilet bowls to clean. Jumping straight out of bed, he rushed into the shower with a clear sense of excitement. “Oh, goodie!” he said to himself (not an odd thing to do while taking a shower). As the warm water hit the back of his neck, he kept thinking about the AGFA.
He'd been wanting to have his own business for as long as he could remember. His father, a retired military pilot, had been unable to stay in the industry (due to flashbacks from a far off war he'd once participated in) and yet kept him captive in mind and soul, though his body returned home safe and sound. After trying several other jobs, Sam's father decided to work with his hands, the one thing he was very good at. And little by little, brick by brick, he built a furtniture business, with a factory and assembly depot as well.
Thirty years later, here was Sam, Samuel Adams Young, the once little boy grown into an old man of thirty five. And it was his turn to do as his daddy had many years before. This time? Photography, Sam was crap at manual labor, and his sanding skills were only worse than his ability to cut with a saw on a straight line.
So it had all come down to this day, Sam thought while looking at himself in the mirror, fresh off his shower. The store had been leased, the furtniture rented, and a big order made with the major west coast distribuitor of photographic equipment.
While tying his shoes, Sam remembered the one afternoon when his father imparted some words of wisdom to him. "It is all about service, son. You can sell anything to anyone, but the secret is to always find a reason to get them to come back". That had not worked so well during Sam's private Studio practice. Weddings were once in a lifetime, and he even joked about being a jinx if someone was to get divorced (Perhaps an unwritten rule of weddings was 'If you must remarry, you can, but never ever hire the same photographer of weddings past'). Also his portrait clients, some had returned for some birthday parties, but nothing really substantial. To the contrary, Sam often broke even with his finances just to be able to afford some stranger good photos of their kids graduation, or family picture.
That's where the AGFA machine came in. Though Film was in very slow demand, Sam had thought that adding a processing lab for film and digital imaging, offering the most complete photography solutions available would definitely increase chances of people returning. Also , investing on some gear and accessories for the shop, would have to be somewhat profitable.
Sam was now sitting, clean and ready, by the curbside, waiting for Francisco, his life long friend, to pick him up on the truck. He was already late.
Sure the internet could compete with great prices, and keep the overhead to a minimum, but Sam had what no other site could offer. The experience, the personable relationship, all for a slightly higher price. Just a week earlier, during a Storage Unit Auction, Sam had spotted a C41 Film negative Processing machine, made by Agfa. It looked in perfect shape, chemically operated, and could develop 2 negatives in less than seven minutes. "All in all, it wasn't so impressive", thought Sam, adding an imaginary audience to his inner monologue, to make it fair. "The guy who had bid on the storage shed had paid only five hundred dollars, and I had offered him $250 for the Agfa. He said yes, with the only condition I would come over and pick it up. As soon as Francisco is here with the truck, we will drive over and get it over to the Studio".
His friend Francisco, was the pick-up guy. They both drove to the Storage Unit location, and once Sam paid cash for the machine to some old man with a cane and a John Deere hat that seemed to had been atop the same head for at least a decade. The machine was loaded onto the truck bed, and driven to the shop. It took a while to get the Agfa positioned just right inside the lab, but Sam was happy to do it. Francisco kept quiet, perhaps because he was partially asleep still, or maybe because he was wolfing down some Taco Bell breakfast burritos, one after another. It was ok, Sam was happy about the silence, and it allowed him to mix the chemicals just right.
After a power-up test, he took a test roll tube, and taped it to the adapter slide, that would take it through the process. It was amazing to see the negative being absorbed by the machine, and after a few seconds seeing the empty tube fall into an empty bucket. Less than eight minutes later, the other end of the Agfa offered a fully developed negative. Sam removed the tape from the adapter, and decided to go ahead and cut the negative anyways, just to test the little device that would cut them. It worked great.
By the time he was done playing with the machine, Francisco had finished making noises with the iced soda glass he had been drinking from, enough to hear a series of knocks from the front of the shop.
Sam walked towards the front, which was covered (the glassed areas) with brown packing paper, and peered out to see who it was outside.
The UPS Driver smiled at Sam and said "Mr. Young?" Sam nodded. "I hope it's your birthday!" exclaimed the brown truck driver, with a big grin on his face. It was the Shipment from the East Coast. "Bring the boxes inside, please" said Sam, grabbing the first one. They were pretty big, some quite heavy, and others -the biggest ones- not so much.
In all about 20 boxes were brought inside the shop, to the front area, what would be the showroom. Sam thanked the Delivery man, who replied by saying "No, thank you!, now I am almost done with my route!"... It was somewhat true, after the dropoff, the truck was incredibly empty.
As the door closed, a foot got in the way. Sam knew it was not his, though he recognized the rugged tactical boot from somewhere, usually spit-shined but with light layers of dirt around it. As his eyes looked up, three hands were forcing the door open.
"C'mon you fool, let us take the loot man!!"... It was Steve and Ron. Best friends since elementary school, each was a perfect negative of the other. Steve the pudgy one, very smart, and with a zeal for science. Ron was the artist, tall and skinny, not as smart -book smarts at least- and with a passion for politics, or better said, for creating an argument wherever there seemed to be any sort of agreement.
"Glad you guys showed up, I thought you were asleep this early" said Sam.
"Yeah, me too" replied Ron, "but chubbs here woke me up to come over and check out the shipment".
"Yup" said Steve, "We stole your UPS tracking number while you were all playing Playstation 3 last night, and we knew you'd have some new gear we could check out" he seemed eager to open the boxes.
"Well, this aint gonna be a Lens and Camera rental store", claimed Sam. "You all know that I gotta sell all this stuff to get a return on my investment, otherwise I won't make the bills, and that would be pretty bad".
"Don't worry dude, we will get it all back in tip top shape" said Ron. "Just pretend we're not here" he said, motioning as a magician who was about to pull some silky fabric over himself and dissapear, except there was no fabric, and he was still standing right there, with a Canon - Handle with Care box in his hands.
"Fine, go ahead and open a few boxes... Let me show you first where I want you to put all this stuff". Sam ushered the guys over the layout for the store, he had thought about it for years, dreaming about the virtual walkthrough of his photo store. "Just make sure you leave the manuals by the lenses and the warranty cards in their boxes, so I can make the Price sheets later on".
"No problems, beeeeotch" said Steve. "You go get busy now and leave us with this stuff". Sam walked away, and turned around half way, looking back. He knew it was ok, but somehow it felt bad. Well, it wasn't the fear of someone stealing or damaging his gear, but these were the very same friends who had played very many pranks on him over the years, and he knew that though they could be trusted, an eye would have to be watching them just in case.
About an hour and lbs of cardboard later, Francisco had gone to fetch some doughnuts and Starbucks for everyone, while Steve and Sam unwrapped the Canon gear, and Ron was left to arrange the Nikon gear on the shelves.
"I just don't understand why you have to waste your money on this crap, can't you just return it?" asked Ron, perplexed.
"Ron, it's not crap, it's just another brand. You really oughta spend less time in the forums, and more time searching for porn or something". Replied Sam, with his usual patience.
"But don't you get it, man?" retorted Ron "You're just playing into the hands that have the powers be!!"
"What the hell does that even mean?" asked Steve, now pulled into the conversation simply because it did not make sense to him, and somehow it became some kind of challenge to him. "How can you assume that two competing brands are more than just that?... you've been smoking something".
"No dude, I am telling you. One day the truth will be known, that Canon was just a brand invented by Nikon, in order to keep you interested in the competition, and lure you towards Nikon". Ron really thought he was onto something.
"Are you nuts? what about the millions of people, who actually use the product with excellent results? How are they playing into the vicious hand of Nikon?... And how is Nikon some sort of axis of evil of this world?" Steve and Ron had done it again. They had tangled in their typical discussions, those with little sense, destined to solve the worlds problems, which never lead anywhere, because they were, well, pretty much senseless.
Steve was starting to get serious. He placed three 1DsMkIIIs on a shelf, and arranged them like the blades of an old navy propeller. That way, he realized, a 360 deg view would be divided into three, allowing any wandering customer to see the cameras from the front, then 120 degs (the right back side), 240 degs (left back side) and back to the front view. He hated it when people played around with merchandise while fully knowing they had no plans of ever owning one, or any particular question. Those people would tend to sample all the cheeses, cause congestions at the grocery store on sat and sundays while waiting for free samples of saucey shrimps they'd never bother to actually buy, or cook, or remember the taste for more than a couple isles. That was the main difference between Steve and Ron, while Ron was plain dropped on his head as a baby -the theory commonly accepted among those who knew him- , Steve was more of a neurotic.
Francisco walked into the room, as usual, trying to speak while chewing on something "So what you guys talking about? "
Ron threw his arms in the air -funny thing to do while holding two perfectly new 100-400L lenses in his hands- and sighed "nothing, just trying to wake up the masses, though they seem to be perfectly alright asleep... in their own little viewfinder version of the world".
" Ah, like the Matrix and sh--?.. Were you talking about shooting? I love the shooting in that movie..(his eyes glass over, as if he had the footage of the movie in front of him, and was watching it) they go through the metal detector and bum!, this dude is dead. Bam!, that dude is dead... Awesome."
"Well, it's a different kind of shooting, and Ron seems to be the one trapped inside an old telephone line, from the conspiracy era" said Sam, gathering all the wrapping material, as it would be needed when the gear was sold. After all, he was the boss, and he needed to make sure those details were taken care of.
Ron went into a tirade, explaining again how trivial everyone thought the situation was, when in reality Nikon was actually another brand owned by the powerful and secretive society "Gents of the Order", which consisted of powerful figures, such as presidents and prime ministers and religious leaders, and how apparently they got their kicks off on watching people battle between Canon and Nikon, when in reality Canon was Nikon owned. Though his friends were tired of hearing it, they always got tangled in the argument, and took the time to try and straighten the record -well, as much as possible- for him, though it never worked. Even if he understood a sensible argument, he always suspected there was someone behind the argument, making it understandable with some dark purpose behind it.
It was then, in the middle of this war of words in a soon-to-be photo shop, that Mary walked in. She was the sort of girl that could turn heads, not the absolute definition of beauty, but there was something about her that always made heads turn, not only male, but often female. Sam's own family was constantly telling him how lucky he was. His aunt Florence would always tell him how pretty she was, and that he oughta treat her always as a princess -while his uncle Roger- was telling him was a son of a gun he had been that the chick had noticed him, and got some kick out of dating some monster like him. "You gotta ride the pony before it goes back with the herd" he'd always say, but there was really nothing cowboy-esque about this man. Roger was born and raised in California, never left the Los Angeles area, and despite his boots and hat, he could not fool Sam, or his own wife, or anyone in the street for that matter. Well, Ron thought that Roger was the only truly smart man in America, which should tell one a lot about ..well, both people.
"Hello boys, I see some veins popping over here.. getting a workout unwrapping the precious cargo?" Mary asked.
"uuuhhm, Hi Mary" they managed to say, they were always caught by surprise by her, and though they knew her, she seemed to have this effect on them. Not Sam, he loved her, but he could still control his brain in her presence.
"Hi love, we're almost done with the Canon stuff, but nobody wants to unwrapp the Nikon equipment. Actually we were debating about that, weren't we boys?" Sam smiled, he saw their instantly changed countenance -as if they were in the presence of a true angel, or a very famous porn star- and just nodded, barely controlling the drooling sounds, to say "uh, yeah!, yes, we're.. aha, the stuff is yeah, we are working on it" was the best Ron could muster, the very one who was moments earlier seemingly addressing the UN general session, with the eloquence of ten ambassadors and prime ministers put together.
"Ah, you wrapped up into those silly conspiracy ideas, right Ron?" Mary said, while Ron's blood raced to his face and he looked as a six year old child caught with the hand in the cookie jar "Well, I am smelling something good, Francis is that your food back there?" Francisco nodded, though he seemed to be holding from peeing his own pants, he loved it when she called him Francis "Let me get something to eat, and I will get to the rest of the Gear. You boys help out Sammy with the cardboard boxes, and we will be done in no time!" She smiled her pretty body out the door towards the back.
They all got up and did exactly as she had asked, in perfect unison and silence. Sam just looked at this, once more amazed that she had such power over them. He could never make his own friends help him so diligently, and it would take her breathing in the same room for a few seconds to convert them into little good-doing robotrons. Either way, the showroom was now looking pretty good. Only the lights, tripods and Bags left, and Sam would be able to open on Monday.
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