Vivian

At this moment, within a one-mile radius of where I am at this moment there are 23 locations at which I could purchase a cold beverage. No matter which location I go to, I will purchase a Pepsi Max which will, predictably, be the same temperature, size and hold the exact same calorie-free sweet satisfaction regardless of my chosen retail outlet.

Why, then, do I make a daily just-past-noon voyage to the same shady-but-loved little 1-2-3 store? Because it is the closest? The cheapest? The most posh?

Well, though “all of the above” are true, actually, the answer is Vivian.

Vivian emanates all of the real-life qualities of an aged Japanese version of Betty Boop. She is a women who is only as confident in her beauty as her lipstick is red and I am sure that her collection of little round stickers say things like '02- Vermilion' or '33- Cherry Punch' or '208-Sexy as Scarlet'. Vivian is everything a little girl with a vanity set has ever dreamt of seeing in the reflection of a plastic mirror-she has the sparkliest necklaces, the prettiest, most perfect hair and "womans" the counter of the convenience store as if to say, "why isn't life glamorous?"

Every day, when I take my bottle to the checkout, she forgoes announcing the price and just looks, turns her head to the side in a little sigh and says, "so beautiful". I hand her my money. "Look at your eyes, so pretty, your pretty, pretty girl eyes". Then, in the same matter-of-fact, pleasant way most cashiers would announce your change, she just smiles, motherly flutters her eyelashes, and bids you farewell with a bright, "You have a very lucky man in your life." I usually can't help but to giggle as I often instinctively respond with a charmed "you, too".