He gave the clerk, a dour, balding, middle-aged man with a considerable paunch filling out his once white apron, the money for the eCigs. The man gave him his change along with a bored look, “Anything else?”
Wilson David said, “No,” and left the little corner market. Man, that guy was real excited about doing business with me. Get the same reaction from most people I run into. Don’t I deserve just a little respect? I am a human being.
He made his way down the street, passersby on their lunch breaks moving to and fro. This section of town sure has changed, he thought. Fresh, colorful awnings shade freshly painted storefronts of quaint shops, all color coordinated to blend well with the neighborhood. Small restaurants and walk in pizza and sub shops with tables and chairs out front offer a wide variety of culinary delights for the lunch-breaking business folks.
In addition to the food venues the upscale commercial district also sported a number of esoteric craft and specialty stores. There was a luthier with 3 beautiful handmade guitars displayed in the showcase window. A potter worked at his wheel where anyone on the sidewalk could easily see. There was a curio shop with a large collection of items in the window, each guaranteed to start a conversation.
Well, that’s interesting, he thought when he saw the flash drive nestled among the jade combs, cute paraffin lamps, cascading beads, elegantly framed daguerreotypes, and other sundries that you certainly don’t need in any way but must have regardless. The flash drive had a single word imprinted upon it in caps: RESPECT.
The shopkeeper in “Just Imagine—Unique Curios” was an old woman, frail and bent with age. In spite of her unsteady appearance she had quick, bright and perceptive eyes, which met his as he entered the small shop. “Yes?” she queried.
“I’m looking for a little respect,” he said, chuckling at his clever private joke.
“Aren’t we all?” she replied. “I presume you’re interested in the RESPECT app in the window.”
“An app for what?”
“Any version of smart phone you care to consider,” she said, “any model, any OS, it’s universal.”
That’s pretty interesting in itself, Wilson thought. He said, “So what does it do?”
“Install that app on your phone and, as long as it’s on your person and powered up, you will get great respect from everyone you meet.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Wilson said, “Smart phone apps are wonderful, helpful little programs; they do everything but brush your teeth, and they’re working on that. But tell me how can something like that make others respect you? It’s not possible.”
The woman grinned, revealing a gold-capped eyetooth. “A lot of things are ‘not possible’ but work anyway,” she said. “Bees fly despite it being aerodynamically ‘impossible’ for them, for instance. Try it and see for yourself.” She reached into the showcase, picked up the drive and handed it over to him. “Just plug it in and follow the prompts.”
He did and was presented with a dialog that asked: “Purchase” or “Trial.” “Choose ‘Trial,’” she said.
Wilson tapped the Trial choice and the install screen disappeared. In the lower right hand corner two little progress bars came up, one, colored in, had a legend that said “10 minutes, the other was empty and had “Lifetime” above it. Other than that, nothing happened. “So,” he said, looking closely at the device. “Is it working?”
“It certainly is. Take it for a stroll,” she said with a surprisingly graceful wave toward the door.
He gave a little shrug, “Okay,” he said and went out onto the street.
It was great! Everyone he passed on the street looked at him with a smile, moved aside so he could pass undisturbed, and, in general, treated him with great consideration. His lips tightened, the corners pulling down, as he evaluated the experience. I can get used to this, he thought.
He checked the phone. The time bar was diminishing and a little color appeared in the empty Lifetime bar. I’ll have to ask her what that means.
Let’s see something, he thought. He went back to the convenience store. The clerk got up from his seat behind the counter immediately. “How can I help you, sir?” he asked with deferential concern.
“Give me a cherry slushy,” Wilson said.
The clerk arched an eyebrow, “Slushies are at the self serve bar over there, people help themselves.” The man straightened his apron. “But for you, sir, I’d be honored if you’d let me get it for you.” He emerged from behind his counter, got the slushy, returned, and passed Wilson his beverage. “On the house,” the clerk said.
“On the house?” Wilson couldn’t believe it.
“Why, of course,” the clerk said, “for you—on the house!”
Wilson left the store sucking on his free cherry slushy. He got the phone out and saw his trial period was just about up so he headed back to the curio shop. The old woman was fanning herself with one of those Asian folding paper fans.
“Hey, I really like this,” he said.
With an impish smile the old woman nodded.
“One thing, though,” he said as he placed his phone on the counter before the woman. “The time bar I understand but what’s this “Lifetime” bar mean?”
“Oh, that,” she said, “that’s how much of your lifetime you lose if you get respect you don’t deserve.” She looked at the phone. “Hmm, looks like you lost a couple of days.”
Horrified, he said, “you mean I’ve lost days of my life for that ten minute trial?”
She fixed him with her sharp eyes. “You know, of course, that the only real way to get respect is to earn it, right?” she asked him pointedly. “If you don’t earn it you must pay for it somehow, don’t you think?”
Guess she’s right, he thought. And, now that he was thinking about it, he couldn’t think of too much he’d done in life that deserved respect. High school dropout, father to two children who knows where, no military or community service of any kind . . . a lackluster life to say the least. He wasn’t pleased with his evaluation. I am better than that.
Still, those people pretty well fell over themselves trying to kiss his ass. A long life earning respect or a shorter one getting it undeserved? Getting it undeserved . . . He cocked his head and stood there thinking for a long moment. The old woman waved her fan.
“You know,” he finally said, “I think I feel better about getting respect I deserve. You can keep the app.”
The old woman nodded with a knowing smile and said, “I’m not surprised. Many people have tried it, just like you. Not one person bought it.”
Wilson looked at his phone again, the app was gone. “I think I’ll go find something respectable to do,” he said as he left the shop.
The old woman waved her fan, “thought so,” she said.