Aquarius Falling

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

May 13, 1964

Pyramid Photos

Finding a job was my priority. My goal was to make enough money to be able to pay my own tuition and try to get back into Georgetown or some other school if Georgetown wouldn’t take me back. But that was a long-term goal. My biggest concern right then was having enough money to pay the rent and eat. I decided to skip going to the state employment office and instead try to find something on my own. Shops and restaurants of all kinds lined the boardwalk and the streets. All of these places needed help for the summer, so I started going door to door, getting rejected at each one. It seemed like if I had been a white girl, I could have gotten a job as a waitress; if I had been a Negro woman, I could have been a cook; if I had been a Negro man, I could have been a dishwasher; but as a white man, it looked as if I could get a job only as a lifeguard or a cop, neither of which I had qualifications for.

As I walked along Somerset Street, a dark mood, fed by fatigue and hunger, flowed over me. Looking up, I saw a giant blue replica of a pyramid-shaped telescope hanging over a doorway. In the window and inside the office were blown-up pictures of smiling children, families, and couples, all of whom were either cute and cuddly or strikingly beautiful or handsome. There were no pictures of ugly people or fat people. There also weren’t any pictures of groups of guys. A really big man, standing six-foot two-inches and weighing at least 260 pounds, completely baldheaded with a florid complexion and veiny, bulbous nose was behind the counter shuffling some papers. He was an intimidating presence. 

“Hi,” I said.

“Yeah?”

“I’m looking for work.”

“Do you know anything about photography?” he asked.

He spoke with a booming voice. It was as if he were talking to someone across the street instead of someone standing in front of him. 

“I can aim a camera and click it.”

“Have you ever used an SLR camera?”

“I don’t know what an SLR camera is.”

“I guess then you don’t know anything about aperture adjustments or film speed, either, do you?”

“No.” 

He was making me feel pretty stupid, and I was just about sure he was going to send me on my way out the door when he said, “No problem. Our cameras all have an autofocus feature, so any dummy can take a picture. But this is really a sales job more than a photography job. You need to convince tourists that the best way to capture and preserve memories of this wonderful day they are having at the beach is with a Pyramid photo. It’s a memory of a lifetime. Sell them on it. Got it?”

“Yes, sir, I got it.”

“I pay straight commission, so if you don’t produce, you don’t make any money. I’ll give you a week to try it out, and if you don’t like it, you can quit. If I don’t like the job you’re doing, I’ll tell you to quit. I can start you today, but just one thing—it’ll be slow for a couple of weeks. It won’t pick up until after Memorial Day. That OK?”

“Sure, no problem.” It’s a job! I’d figure out a way to get by until Memorial Day, get an evening or night job if I needed to. At least this was a start.

“Here, fill this out. It’s an employment application, that sort of paperwork. While you’re doing that, I’ll get you a camera and a Pyramid Photos T-shirt. Wear that while you’re working. My name’s George Devorak. Everyone calls me Mr. D. What’d you say your name was?”