Felicia stamped as she whirled away from the water fountain, tossing her long brownish hair just to make a point.
“That new girl is just pushy and selfish. She won’t last two months.You don’t put large signs on the outside of the lobby to announce the opening of your new shop without first consulting with the manager! What nerve! Who does she think she is?”
She took a long drag on her cigarette and then snapped a sparkling silver lighter shut as she blew smoke nowhere in particular. Her hand with long red blood fingernails, expertly placed the cigarette pack neatly in her purse. High heels clicking, she made her way back from the lounge area to her desk. A too short tropical skirt accommodating her determined gate.
Felicia was a veteran concierge at a beachfront resort in Hawaii. Her smooth dialogue could sell air-conditioners to Alaskans in the dead of winter if need b and she was fine to work with as long as you didn’t invade her territory. If you did–look out!
I returned to my studio without comment. Felicia had definite opinions and really didn’t care what anybody else thought.
Just then the bouncy, petite newcomer just mentioned came into view. Betsy was a bundle of energy with an outgoing personality. Nodding in Felicia’s direction, she stopped and positioned her near-perfect figure to place another large sign for her new business in the lobby to complement the one on the front lawn. It was a little too close to the connoisseur’s desk.
“I’m allergic to cigarette smoke. Did you know that?” Betsy threw at Felicia, while fingering her curly up-do absentmindedly. “I get violently ill when anyone comes in the same room with a cigarette. I could almost feel the vibrations from my studio. Turning quickly Betsy looked my way and waved. I hesitantly returned the gesture, while arranging a shelf. Betsy then went about the task of placing artful displays in her coffee shop window. seemingly oblivious to the fact that she had stepped on someone’s toes big-time. Soon I heard the loud clicking of high heels making determined steps to the manager’s office. The door shut firmly!
Unfortunately things didn’t improve in the next several weeks and I seemed to have acquired the position of complaint department, counselor and mediator. My studio was a little too close to the conflict
“Her prices are so out of reason! I always got my coffee for half price when Tony ran the shop.” Felicia said one day in her loud throaty voice. She failed to mention the fact that she was now indulging in a double cappuccino from Betsy’s shop instead of a regular cup of coffee from Tony’s. After such comments, Betsy would fly into my studio complaining because Felicia’s voice was too loud and droning or that she reeked of smoke.
Felicia became more discreet with her complaining. A veteran in tourism that she was, she knew the consequences of constant strife among the staff. Her digs at Betsy became more casual and off the cuff rather than saturated with out and out disdain.
Needless to say the cold war continued.”Have you heard the news?” Betsy gleefully volunteered one day in the lobby. “What news?” I asked.
“One of Felicia’s co-workers says she is having trouble on the job,” she stated. “Oh it’s probably just a rumor.” I said, though I knew the situation was getting ugly. After mulling things over for a while, I decided, Why not try a little peace experiment?
After work one day,y I went to the nearest florist and purchased a long stemmed rose. Using my key to the side door after the last employee had left, I entered the vacant lobby and carefully placed the rose in a vase on Felicia’s desk. I retreated softly, closed the door behind me and quietly left.
The next day when I came to my studio, Felicia was trying to find the source of her beautiful rose. I wasn’t a suspect, for I closed in the evening while others were still there, not to return until everyone’s shift had began the next morning. “Are you sure someone didn’t deliver this last evening after I left?” Felicia eagerly asked the desk clerk? “No no one came as long as the desk was open.” she replied
There was only one person who came earlier than the rest to get the coffee going, and that was Betsy. But no one dared suggest that Betsy had left the rose. Betsy was appalled. I could imagine her turmoil; someone sent Felicia a beautiful rose–the woman with the droning voice, the woman who couldn’t live without her cigarettes, the woman pushing retirement whose too-short dresses were exasperating?
As I went on errands for my studio that week, I passed the beautiful rose occasionally. Its fragrance filled the lobby as it graced a prominent position at the center of Felicia’s desk. She seemed so proud to display it, perhaps an affirmation of her worth.The delicate presence lasted a full week and with the presence the atmosphere began to change.
Felicia began treating Betsy less abruptly. Betsy became less critical of Felicia. Finally in the weeks that followed, they began having amicable conversations.
Nothing more was said of the rose. Though it was eventually discarded, the fragrance remained.