I liked the time just before the end of the night shift. The morning sun appeared in the spaces between buildings, gentle but steady, tinting the sky red-violet. When I gazed out at the view from inside the store, I felt like I was crossing the threshold from the old day to the new one.
I liked seeing the faces of my customers, too, during that interval between days. Whether they were headed off to work or home to sleep, there was a soft, undefined look to those faces as they emerged from the night. It felt like there was something delicate and precious behind them that you could just barely glimpse.
“Hard day today? Get some rest.”
“Good morning! Welcome to Tenderness!”
The young man buying a can of beer and a few snacks looked tired, perhaps because he was coming off a late shift at work, like me. I spoke gently to him, so as not to rile him up before he goes to sleep.
The woman with her hair curled slightly too tight was probably hoping it would keep until evening, so I served her briskly and added a little extra sweetness to my voice to bolster her for the long workday ahead of her.
“Thank you. Please take care.”
I bagged the items, the customers paid the bill, and I handed them their goods. Then I said a final few heartfelt words. They say the finishing touch in cooking is always love, and I believed the same thing was true for serving customers. I always tried to remember to smile with love at the person standing before me.
I was seeing off a few customers after serving them, when I heard a sullen voice behind me. “Try not to overdo it this morning, sir. It’s unnecessary.”
I turned around. Hirose, a part-time worker here, was scowling at me.
“Oh? What was that? Unnecessary?”
“I say it every morning, don’t I?” he retorted. “If you keep this up, they’ll have the police after you.”
Hirose was in his third year at the university. He was a good kid who worked hard during his shifts and did whatever anyone asked, but was always a little cool with me. He said that I overdo it with the customers, that I lay on the charm too thick.
“You know I don’t do it on purpose,” I said.
“Let’s just go over your actions step by step, shall we? You hand over the change with both hands, you take the customer’s hand in your own, you smile and whisper, ‘Good night, sweet dreams.’ Whoops! Did you catch it? Anything extra there?”
Hirose pranced around, twisting his body this way and that, concluding by licking his lips lasciviously and shooting me a come-hither look.
“That’s terrible.”
“Exactly. It’s terrible.”
“That’s not how I smile. You make me look like a serial killer!”
It was a terrible impersonation. It felt like a small dagger in my chest, so I gently placed my hand there.
“You’re not a serial killer, sir, you’re a heartbreaker! That guy who was in here before, his face was bright red when he walked out of here. You think he’ll have a restful night’s sleep in that state? And that woman who looked like she worked in a fancy office—did you know she’s only made up perfect like that on days when you have a shift? When you’re off duty, she leaves off the makeup and puts her hair in a ponytail. Also, she skips the green juice and goes for a Red Viper energy drink instead.”
Hirose was usually quiet, except when he was complaining about me. Then he had a lot to say. He could be critical that way, but I didn’t think there was anything wrong with my customer service, so there wasn’t much I could do about it. There was a whole world of convenience stores out there, but our customers chose to patronize this one. Our store helped them get ready to begin or end the day. I couldn’t tell you how happy and grateful that made me. I was just expressing my gratitude with all the love that I could give.
“I don’t know what to say about the Red Viper drink, but it’s not good if that gentleman can’t sleep at the end of his shift. I’ll try to speak to him with a little more compassion.”
Hirose’s shoulders sagged, and he said, “Argh…! You just don’t get it! Listen, I think it would be good if the customer service were more impersonal. Convenience store clerks don’t need to show personality. It’s the kind of place where people just drop in by chance.”
Hirose was on the baseball team when he was in high school. He didn’t play anymore now, but he still kept his hair cropped in a buzz cut. It was cute and gave him a very mischievous look. I’d never say that to him, though, because it would make him mad. His cheeks puffed up like a child when he’s angry, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“I think it’s good for convenience store clerks to have personality. And as far as I’m concerned, I want the place to be as comfortable as possible, precisely because it’s a place where people just drop by,” I replied.
“Sir, you still don’t understand,” he said. “See, you lay on all this charm and flattery for no good reason, and then our store is swamped with customers who act like stalkers. Did you know my friends at school call this shop the Convenience Cabaret? They say you can get all the pleasures of a host club at the cost of a convenience store!”
“Huh! Well, that’s the first time I’ve heard that name. But with so many cute…er, handsome staff like you working here, it stands to reason, don’t you think?” I smiled at him.
“This is not about me! It’s all your doing. Please try to understand!”
Hirose was rubbing his head in agitation when the door chimed its melody to signal the arrival of a customer. A bearded man in a light green coverall ambled in. “Welcome!” I called out, and our eyes meet. His hairy face broadened into a knowing smile. He probably thought he was being discreet about it, but he kept waving at me.
“That guy, he’s definitely one of your stalkers! He’s here all the time.”
Hirose said this quietly, without dropping his perfect customer-service smile. I just laughed.
Then, as if led by the man in the coverall, customers started to trickle in, one by one. Just a little while longer until the night shift was over. To each customer, I gave a fond farewell: “Thank you! Please come again soon.”
And to you, for choosing Tenderness—all my love.