It was December 1st, and Christmas was coming. The grand toy store on Fifth Avenue was getting ready to open its doors to the public. The establishment was well-known for its vast selection of toys, trinkets, puzzles, electric trains, dolls and stuffed animals. Miss Vanderbilt was a highly prestigious customer, and had been waiting patiently in line with the other families when one of the doormen recognized her. Miss Vanderbilt was a regular at this toy store. When the child was from one of the wealthiest families in New York, they pulled out all the stops to keep her happy. “Miss Vanderbilt, I didn’t expect to see you here so early!” said the doorman with effusive politeness. “The store will be open in two minutes. Perhaps I can accompany you while you make your purchases?” he went on, courteously.
The grand toy store finally opened its doors. The little girl strolled in, escorted by the doorman. Behind them, the other families were becoming impatient, beginning to push and shove behind the red rope. The signal was given, and they began to pour into the store in search of their Christmas gifts. The children did not know which way to turn; a fleet of red tricycles was on display at the entrance, the enticing scent of their fresh rubber tires mingling with the woody aroma of the Christmas tree towering in the middle of the store, its branches bent under the weight of golden baubles, tinsel and porcelain figurines of elves, gingerbread men, Nutcrackers and articulated Pinocchio puppets. One wall was stacked full of stuffed bears, welcoming the excited visitors with innocent smiles and kindly expressions. Smaller children would need a ladder to get a good look at them. Airplanes, carousels and wooden puppets were displayed on the second floor. There were fleets of toy cars, where one could see gleaming miniature Cadillacs proudly representing the continent’s latest technological advances. Flossy Flirt dolls were lined up on a shelf lower down, available in four different sizes. Puzzle boxes were stacked high on one side of the store. Finally, the Chrysler toy sewing machine and the Weeden steam engine were displayed behind a rope – these were the most expensive toys, and children passing by were told to “look with your eyes, not your hands.”
“What would you like to see, Miss Vanderbilt?” asked the doorman.
“I need five puzzles,” the young lady replied sweetly.
“We got plenty of those, all kinds. What sort of size? Two hundred pieces? Five hundred? A thousand?”
“I’d like two five-hundred-piece puzzles and one thousand-piece, please. What kind of pictures do you have?”
“Let’s see...for five hundred we got the Empire State Building and the Statue of Liberty. For a thousand I’m not sure, I think some new ones just came in. Give me a second,” said the doorman, taking off his boots. “Here we are, this one’s of Time Square!”
“Splendid,” answered Miss Vanderbilt with consummate poise. “I’ll need an Amos N Andy taxi for my brother, too.”
“I can see you’re a big fan. I’ll bet you watch Amos N Andy every night on TV.”
“My brother adores the show, yes. It’s his favorite. I’ll also need a Studebaker farm wagon.”
“Really? That’s one of our most expensive toys, you know.”
“I’m sure. Then I need a Popeye Express and a Rolmonica. My brother loves playing music.”
“He’s very lucky to have a sister like you. Now, what’s say we get all this stuff gift wrapped for you? Merry Christmas little lady, and to the whole Vanderbilt family as well!”
The store staff hurried to wrap Miss Vanderbilt’s purchases. An invoice for the items would be sent to Mr. Vanderbilt later on; he had informed the store that his daughter would be visiting that day to do her Christmas shopping. Miss Vanderbilt held out her hand to the doorman, saying: “Merry Christmas to you, too!” The staff carefully stacked the toys and boxes in the arms of the doorman, who followed the young lady out of the store. Outside, a double-parked limousine was waiting for her. The driver got out of the car and opened the trunk, remarking: “Congratulations, Miss Vanderbilt. I see you’ve made some fine purchases.” The doorman transferred the stack of gifts to the trunk. The engine hummed to life amidst the din of yellow taxi horns.
“Merry Christmas again!” cried the doorman, waving to the car as it disappeared into the Fifth Avenue rush.
Alan Alfredo Geday
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