JOURNEYS INTO LIMBO Chananya Weissman
There's a new store in town. It's called Rent-A-Friend...
"So tell me, already," said Frank. "What are you selling?"
"Why, friends, of course," said the man. "Though I don't usually sell them. Generally my customers rent them, hence the name Rent-A-Friend." He paused, waiting for Frank to prod him further.
"I don't understand," said Frank.
"What did I say that exceeded your intellectual limits?" came the inevitable retort. "Had I told you I deal in autmobiles, which I occasionally sell but generally rent, would you be similarly confused?"
"Of course not. But friends--"
"Nah ah ah!" The man thrust out a palm. "If you understand the basic principles of commerce, as you claim, then the article of commerce should be no cause for bewilderment. You do know what a friend is, do you not?"
Frank laughed. "Of course I do."
"Do you have any?"
"What? Yes, yes, some better than others, two or three good ones, I'd say."
The man drummed his fingers on the desk, a pensive expression on his face. "Two or three good ones, he'd say. Hmm. I'm glad I started that first week free deal, otherwise I'd never get any business at all. Two or three good ones, they say."
"Now just a minute," said Frank. "I really do have some good friends, and I really don't appreciate your attitude. You don't even have a seat for your customers to sit on. And the way you talk you won't stay in business very long, I can guarantee you. I'm about ready to leave."
The man looked up. "So leave. You won't be the first. When you've got a product as good as mine you don't need to concern yourself with such absurdities as customer respect. But if you do leave I won't ever let you back, and that would be more harmful than any insult I could ever throw your way."
Frank hadn't really intended to leave, and suspected that the man knew it. "I'm surprised you can be so candid about your terrible rudeness."
The man shrugged and made a sheepish expression. "I really am enjoying our little banter, but it's rather late, and I was planning on closing up for the night. Would you like to get right down to details, or has my little teasing been too much for you?"
"I'm listening," said Frank with artificial firmness.
"Very good. My name, first of all, is Mortimus Tinsley. What is your name?"
"Frank. Frank Weaver."
"One Frank or two?"
"One."
"Okay. What I do business in, Mr. Weaver, is friends, all manner of them. Whether you have many friends already or none at all, you'll find my Rent-A-Friends a wonderful addition to your life."
"Hold on, Mr. Tinsley, I'm still not following. You can't rent friends."
"Why not? I do it for a living."
"You don't understand. Come on, Tinsley! Friendship is something you establish with another person, not something you pay for."
Tinsley smiled. "On the contrary, friendship is something you pay for in a variety of ways. I'm offering you the option of acquiring high-quality friends for a fixed monetary fee. You'd be amazed how much my customers save."
"This must be some kind of joke, or some crazy scam," said Frank.
"Not at all, Mr. Weaver. I offer an unconditional first week free to prove it."
"I'm tempted to take you up on it, just to see what this is really all about. But my wife would go through the ceiling."
"Oh!" exclaimed Tinsley. "You're married! Why didn't you say so?"
"It didn't come up."
"Why should your wife object to your having a friend, Mr. Weaver?"
"She wouldn't. Anyway, I have friends."
"Yes, of course. You know, you could always get rid of her and rent a wife. The cost is significantly higher, naturally--"
"Hey, now! What kind of--"
"Relax, Mr. Weaver, I didn't mean to be quite so blunt about it. I assure you that everything about my business is entirely legitimate from both a legal and ethical standpoint. I just want you to be aware that we carry both male and female friends. I meant to suggest nothing more."
"That's it, I'm leaving," said Frank, and this time he turned to go.
"Don't be a fool, Weaver!" Tinsley's voice stopped him cold. "You have nothing to lose with the free trial. If you decide I'm crazy you've lost nothing at all, and can tell everyone you know never to set foot in that door. But shouldn't you allow for the possibility that I've got something that might benefit you more than you're willing to admit?"
Frank turned back. "Fine. Show me what you've got, but make it quick. My wife's expecting me by now."
"It doesn't work quite like that. You tell me what sort of friend you'd like and where you'd like to meet, and I make it happen."
"What do you mean 'what sort of friend'?"
"You know, chess partner, boat-riding companion, that sort of thing. Then there's the father figure, role model type of friend. The confidante is particularly popular, as well."
"How about a drinking buddy?" said Frank. "I go for a drink every now and then and usually sit alone."
Tinsley made a face. "That would be one of the lower end friends. But I guess you wouldn't know the difference. Fine. Name the place and time, your friend will meet you, and your free week will start from there. We can discuss prices after that."
"I doubt it will come to that," said Frank smoothly, feeling like himself again. "I'll be at Pelco's tomorrow night at eight. I can't wait to meet this friend of yours, either."
"Good night, Mr. Weaver. Get out of my store."
Frank opened his mouth, closed it, then turned and left.
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