An Audi drove by. I knew it was an Audi by the trademark symbol of the four interlocking rings. Every time I see an Audi I am reminded of an evening in San Francisco twenty-five years ago when I emerged from a fancy restaurant in an upscale part of the city and was hailed by a beautiful woman in her forties wearing a stylish uniform and matching cap that gave her the appearance of a Lufthansa stewardess.
This woman and another attractive woman wearing the same kind of uniform and cap were standing next to two shiny new Audi sedans and offering likely passersby test drives of these snazzy cars.
I’m sure she hailed me because I had just emerged from a restaurant where it cost a good deal of money for a glass of wine and a paltry appetizer, though I had no such money. What I did have was a friend with a wealthy partner who had just treated me to a feast that cost more than I spent on groceries in three months. The Audi woman would not have known at first glance that I was a pauper, nor would she have guessed I had yet to accrue enough money to pay my rent that month, let alone buy an expensive car.
My friend and his partner were lingering in the restaurant foyer conversing with another couple, so I inquired of the lovely sales woman, “Do you sell Audis by day, too?”
She laughed and said, “No. By day I’m a movie star. This Audi gig is just for a couple weeks to coincide with the new models coming out.”
“Do you get a commission if you precipitate a sale?”
She nodded. “I’m not doing this for the hourly. Believe me.”
I said I believed her.
Having assessed my totality and realizing I would not be buying an Audi any time soon, she nonetheless asked pleasantly. “So what do you do by day?”
“I’m a writer and a musician,” I said, imagining her in more comfortable garb dancing her blues away.
She made a cross with her index fingers and held it up between us, and not entirely in jest.
“I thought I recognized in you a fellow artist,” I said, guessing writer actor singer dancer.
“Not anymore,” she said, uncrossing her fingers.
“May you sell a hundred Audis,” I said, bowing to her.
“May I sell three,” she said, returning my bow. “And then these two weeks won’t be a total bust.”
Fin