The Actor

by James Jandak Wood

1969

For over five years I’ve been selling new cars at a small dealership here in town, Hansen's Audi Volkswagen. But that doesn't mean I'm a car salesman. As I tried to explain to Judy Ferryman one morning while we drank coffee together in the waiting room as the dealership was opening, I’m an actor.

"But that's not how you bring home the bacon," she said.

"True,” I replied, “but it is how I get my emotional sustenance."

She smiled at me and said, "So, Jeremiah, how's that taste, emotional sustenance?"

Perhaps what I’d said sounded a bit dramatic, but I hadn’t wanted Judy to think all I hoped to accomplish in life was to work at a car dealership until I retired, then putz around this little town until I kicked the can. I had plans.

I wanted to explain myself further, but the receptionist called Judy over the loudspeaker. A young couple had come in to look at the new line of Volkswagen Vanagons. Although Judy was relatively new to the dealership, she was called first as she was the top salesperson the prior month. In fact, she’d been the top salesperson for each of the three months she’d worked at Hansen’s.

I grabbed my jacket from my office and went out back to wander around some of the new cars that had just been delivered, ostensibly to see what we had in inventory, but I just wanted some fresh air; the air gets stale inside the dealership. The new car receiving lot abuts the small, town park which is a few acres of oak trees with a tiny, algae-caked pool that the locals call a pond.