The Coat Catwalk

Not rescued from textile recycling, this time--Manageress recognized this coat was special, and she pulled it from the incoming donations bin to show me.
I looked up the brand--Lilli Ann:
"Iconic post-1940s American fashion, started in San Francisco in 1933 by Adolph Schuman, naming his company for his wife, Lillian."
Their coats sell for 100 and up (up, up) online. I printed out the company history and priced the coat 80.

The coat is in perfect shape, and it looks fantastic in motion. (The fabric has sparkles that don't show up in the photo.)

The new cashier, Samantha, was game to model--most of my coworkers won't––but warned me that she "always looks terrible in photos."
I doubt anyone who saw them would agree.

I barely know Samantha--she's been here two weeks--but she's pretty terrific so far.
She described herself to me:
"I'm part twelve-and-a-half-year boy and part ninety-eight-year-old woman."
I see that. Seemingly fearless? That works well at the store, with its wildness. "Show no fear."

Asst Man modeled the coat. It looks good on everybody.
He's a good sport--I'd bet none of my other male coworkers would model a woman's coat.

How would AM describe himself?

He say things like "big ol' nerd" about himself.
Not to reduce him to this, but he's a record collector; if you know the type, he does fit it.

Unlike Samantha, when he started at the store, AM had no street smarts, and that's gotten him into trouble. He's confronted shoplifters, for instance, gotten too close, and they've hit or threatened him a couple few times.
Not to blame him! It can happen to anyone, and the people who do it are almost feral.

I don't mean "feral" as an insult, or even an exaggeration. It means "an animal (or plant) that lives in the wild but is descended from domesticated individuals."

Some of the store customers survive without social supports, including shelter, running water, and trustworthy companions.
It's a dangerous way to live, exposed to the elements––and predators. As with feral cats, the life expectancy is shorter than for domesticated members of the species.
Every so often, we'll hear bad news. "That girl who always used to shoplift from us? She got stabbed."

I don't have "street smarts" either--but I treat the customers like I treat Robinson: don't confront them, let them come to you.
Try to be kind, don't pre-judge...
Give people stuff!

The other day AM asked me to show jewelry to a customer because the last time, the customer (a man) had thrown something at him.
The customer wanted to see a tray of rosaries.
"How much is this one?" he asked of one without a price tag.

"It's free!" I said.

(I often give away the rosaries because we shouldn't even be selling religious items like those that I KNOW [longer story] are donated with the intention of being given away for free.)

The customer then turned to AM who was still standing nearby and said, "You wouldn't even help me."

AM: "Well, guy, last time I did, you threw something at me."

Customer: "Oh... Was I drunk?"

AM: "I don't know. Maybe."

Customer: "I'm sorry, man."

Robinson has it good--maybe the best of both worlds. Mr House says he will continue to let the cat go outside when he wants.
In my experience, Robinson always wants to go outside after he eats. He always positions himself by the open door.
But he really likes being rubbed, and he's started lying down to get rubs, and last night he even gave me his paw for a moment.