5-6 minutes
Author: Cyrus Borzak
Yormin leaned against the glass counter and watched the shoppers walk by. Some strolled around simply gazing at the wares. Others moved purposely, heading toward their purchase as if its stock could imminently be snatched up. Watching people was his favorite part of the job. So much could be discovered about a person from simple observation.
Yormin’s wandering eyes settled upon a chap striding through the doors with an undeniable confidence. As the man came forth, Yormin quickly realized he was the destination. He put on a welcoming smile and immediately greeted the fellow as he approached.
“Good afternoon, sir. Something I may help you with today?”
The man flashed his own smile, but it felt born of arrogance rather than kindness.
“Imma here to snatch me a Thunder Scoot, yeah. Can you help with that…” he had to drop his eyes to Yormin’s name pin, “Yor-main?”
Yormin never understood how anyone could mispronounce his name; it was a simple phonetical “your-min”. The service part of his brain worked feverishly to suppress any reaction or retaliatory comment.
“Absolutely, sir. Please make your model and color selection on the screen in front of you, and I will get the purchase form going so we can get you on your way.”
“Right on, bruv. Can’t be spending all day. I’ve gotta meet a lady and proper plan giving her a ride on this thing, yeah.”
The way the man looked down, Yormin could not tell if he meant the Thunder Scoot or something more personal. Given this interaction, however, he hoped the woman came to her senses well before either option came to fruition.
“Okay, you’ve selected the 760XL in matte black. Excellent choice.”
“Yeah, bruv, I know. Let’s get on with it, yeah?”
Yormin nodded and went about asking the perfunctory purchase questions like name and address. Then, he got to the question that always made him pause.
“Okay, sir, one more question before your purchase is official. What is your angle?”
“What, you serious, bruv? You asking my angle?”
“Yes, sir. That is standard for a purchase like this.”
The man looked amazed at Yormin’s audacity and stupidity.
“Can’t you see, bruv? I’m a straight ninety! Per-pen-dic-u-LAR!”
“Thank you, sir, I did not want to make assumptions and am required to confirm should a financing payment be required.”
“Serious, bruv? You can see me, eh? You think paying is a prob? What, like one of those ground sniffers? I’m straight ninety!”
While Yormin cringed at the term “ground sniffer”, the man had a point. In a world where someone’s angle with the ground displayed their progress toward the grave, a “straight ninety”, or someone able to stand fully erect and perpendicular to the ground, essentially still had their whole life ahead of them. “Ground sniffers” were people near the end of their line, with an angle below 45 degrees. You did not see many individuals below 45 degrees out in public. The near impossibility of movement left most of them to be carted around by caretakers as those more erect in the world cast pitiful, and sometimes disdainful, looks upon them. Yormin thought longingly of the days when he was a 90, before the accident that nearly reduced his parents to zero and dropped him to 75. As for asking the question, whenever someone made a purchase over $1,000, they needed to provide their angle as a show of good faith that they would be around to provide or complete payments. Merchants could then establish their own policy of what was the minimum acceptable angle to approve a purchase.
Yormin completed the purchase form and told the man to head to the pick-up area in the store’s rear to retrieve his Thunder Scoot. Outside, the man bounced excitedly next to Yormin as he waited for his purchase to appear. He looked Yormin up and down with a smirk and judging eyes.
“You ever been asked your angle, bruv? Def not a ninety like yours truly! I’d say, what, eighty? Seventy?”
Yormin did not make eye contact and kept his gaze to the back room entrance, praying for one of the stock boys to emerge so he could get rid of this guy.
“Aw, come on, bruv, just havin’ a chat!”
“No, I’m not a ninety, not anymore, but I’m better than a seventy.”
“There ya go, bruv! Plenty of time left!”
Sensing Yormin had no intention of further engagement, the man shrugged and went back to his excited bouncing. After another minute of awkward silence, a stock boy emerged from the store room wheeling forth the coveted matte black Thunder Scoot.
“Aw, there she is! What a beaut! I be getting those looks for sure!”
Yormin watched as the man took the Thunder Scoot with a surprising reverence and climbed aboard, testing its balance and feel.
“Okay, sir, you should be good to go. Thank you for your purchase and have a good rest of your day.”
“Adios, Yor-main! Stay upright, bruv!”
With that, the man fired up the scooter and paused to admire its subtle purr. Then, he revved the engine and shifted into gear. Yormin’s eyes widened as the Thunder Scoot launched forward, clearly surprising the man who struggled to maintain control and keep the scooter upright. He shot out from behind the store, across a small parking area, and into the main thoroughfare. Just as it appeared the man regained control, a large truck, horn blaring, caught the Thunder Scoot and its passenger square in the grill.
Yormin unconsciously let out a surprised yelp as he saw the scooter explode into its component parts. More alarming, however, was the red stain blanketing the front of the truck as it screeched to a stop. He heard the stock boy run back into the store, screaming for help. Unable to believe what he just witnessed, Yormin stared at the scene on the street. Horns blared, people screamed, and in an instant, an angle became zero.
Featured Image: Shutterstock 2581218031 (Natalia Hoffmann)
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