Men Ă la mode
6
Men Ă la mode by StSciurus
K chapter six
M
eanwhile,
back on the floor of the men’s shop, M. Marteau-Piqueur and M. Câlins were having a discussion while M. Légère was waiting on a customer. “My love life is just fine, Henri! I wish you wouldn’t keep bringing it up,” said M. Marteau-Piqueur in a low voice. “In fact, we are meeting tonight, and—well— who knows what it might lead to!” “Is she pretty, Loïc?” M. Câlins asked, smiling. “Um…” M. Marteau-Piqueur hesitated. “You see, we are pen pals. This person and I, we’ve never actually met.” “This ‘person’?” queried M. Câlins, and then he suddenly understood. “Ah!” M. Marteau-Piqueur colored slightly.
“So you’ve never met ‘this person’! At least it explains why you’ve been so tense lately,” M. Câlins continued. “Well, yes and no. But that is the least of my worries. For the last two weeks, M. László has been on my case, criticizing everything I do! I’ve been with the store for a decade and slaved away to make it successful. I couldn’t have worked harder had the store been my own!” M. Câlins grimaced. The owner himself had just entered from the back room and overheard M. MarteauPiqueur’s remark.
“So you think you are going to take over the store, do you, M. Marteau-Piqueur? Well, think again!” M. László said angrily spitting out each word. “You’re lucky I don’t fire you on the spot!” “You completely misunderstood me, M. László!” M. Marteau-Piqueur defended himself. “You know I’ve worked hard to make your store successful. What have I done to warrant such treatment from you?” M. Câlins whispered to him, “Let it go, Loïc!” “Hard work?!” M. László was turning red. “I come onto the sales floor and find you gossiping with M. Câlins. You call that ‘hard work’?”
“M. László, I’ve been with customers all morning. It’s a week before Christmas, you know, and the store is as busy as I’ve ever seen it. In the few moments I’ve had to myself, I’ve been checking inventory for items that need reordering. If we had our stock computerized like I had suggested…” “Computers this and computers that!” M. László shouted, causing M. Légère’s customer to look around with fright. “Maybe I should replace you all with computers. Then the few extra customers we have at Christmas time wouldn’t be such a problem for you!”
M. Marteau-Piqueur was stunned into silence as was everyone else in the shop. Then, in a quiet voice, tense with anger, he said, “M. László, up until two weeks ago everything seemed fine between us, and now I can’t seem to do anything right. It’s as if some jealous individual has been putting ideas in your head about me.” “No one has been putting ideas into my head, M. Marteau-Piqueur. Do you think I am not intelligent enough to have ideas of my own?” “Then why this inexplicable change?” “Yes indeed! You thought I wouldn’t find out that…” And M. László stopped dead. “What, sir? What did you find out?” Obviously deflecting the course of the conversation, M. László said, huffily “That you are incompetent, selfimportant, and can’t do your job properly!”
“If you had doubts about my abilities, why haven’t you told me?” “I am telling you. I keep telling you. How often do you have to be told?” “If you feel this way, perhaps I should make other arrangements…” “What? You’re threatening me? You think I’ll beg you to stay? That we can’t get along without you? Well, why don’t you make other arrangements then. Come to my office before you leave, and I’ll have your final paycheck ready for you.” Before M. Marteau-Piqueur could reply, the owner turned around and left the way he came in. A half minute later the sound of a slamming door could be heard from the floor above. And it was at this moment that Adrien returned from his lunch break.
“It is so kind of you to finally grace us with your presence!” M. Marteau-Piqueur said to Adrien, testily. Adrien, taken aback, tried to reply calmly, “You give me 40 minutes for my break, M. Marteau-Piqueur. By my watch, I am seven minutes and 29 seconds early.” M. Marteau-Piqueur just glared at him and finally said, “M. Câlins? M. Légère? Come! Now that M. Lemoine is finally back, it is time for you to go to lunch!” And the three men went to the back room to get their coats, leaving Adrien alone on the floor. ▼
to be continued‌