HOW TO DRAW

In the winter months of 2003, I worked at “The Art and Drafting Connection” in the Westgate Mall. I have visited psychics, read exhaustive horoscopes, and received letters from my future self. All of these sources agree: THIS WILL REMAIN THE WORST JOB YOU WILL EVER HAVE HAD.

The establishment was right next to a Subway Sandwich Restaurant. Subway’s distinctly hallow smell of cold-cuts and industrial cleaners still evokes in me a sense of dread.

While I worked at the story, I had three bosses. The first boss was a battered shell of a man whose name I do not recall. It was clear to me that this man’s state was directly correlated with his relationship with the second boss, his stern, and shockingly humorless wife. Her hair was short like a mom who’s settled into the idea of never being attractive again. Her personality was styled in a similar fashion. The third boss was my main tormentor. He was a one-thousand year old man named Ralph who worked there every single from open to close without a break.

During my time there, Ralph would come to be a miserable, throbbing tumor on my day. He would constantly chastise me for being unable to learn their complicated return policies and antiquated computerized register.

“Ugh! God,” he’d sigh, “WILLIAM, you’ve gotta write this stuff down. You don’t remember ANYTHING. Ugh…pathetic…”

Towards the end of my time there, the middle-aged human Quaalude that signed my paychecks brought me over to the book section. He pointed out the “How to Draw” books. How to draw Mickey Mouse, X-men, and Sailor Moon.

“William, we’ve been having a lot of missing items in the store ever since you started working. Mostly these how to draw books.”
“Oh,” I said, “I’ll keep my EYES PEELED. YOU CAN COUNT ON ME, SIR.”
“See that you do,” he said, eyeing me suspiciously and walking away to the back where he’d probably contemplate a shiny pistol or masturbate to a pornographic video game on the Tandy 386 computer he used to do the accounting.

I think it would be funny if he’d started asking me to draw different things, as a way of discreetly testing my abilities to see if I’ve improved. He could thereby discern whether or not I’d been stealing HOW TO DRAW BOOKS. UGH. HOW TO DRAW BOOKS? COME ON.

“DRAW ME POKEMON,” he’d say. “AND THEN DRAW ME BATMAN AND ROBIN KISSING.”
“Did you say kissing?”
“What? No. I didn’t say kissing.”
“I don’t believe that drawing was in my job description.”
“YOU WILL DO IT OR I WILL DRINK THE BLOOD OF EVERYONE YOU LOVE. FOR THOUGH I’M MILD-MANNERED AND SEEMINGLY MISERABLE WITH MY LESBIAN WIFE, I AM SECRETLY A DRACULA.”

I was reconsidering these events today as I went through all my old photographs and scraps of paper in my parent’s house. During my miserable time there at the ART AND DRAFTING CONNECTION, I did steal one thing. What I stole were the little scraps of paper kept near the pens for people to test out pens on. I’d stuff these in my pockets quickly before Ralph would come calling me, “WILLIAM. YOU SCREWED UP ANOTHER RECEIPT! CAN’T YOU GET ANYTHING RIGHT? YOU ARE A TERRIBLE HUMAN BEING WHO WILL NEVER FIND TRUE LOVE IN THE WORLD!”

I really liked these scraps of paper. I liked them because they are a kind of embodiment of a person’s unadulterated thought. A person would amble into the store to browse and then see the pen display, thinking only in the blunt and rudimentary terms that a person in a mall can think. “OOOH. PEN. I TRY PEN NOW.” Then, without thinking, they would just start drawing lines and words. These lines and words, the rainbow colored shapes of the paper are the same shape and color as the lines of thought within the unconscious human mind, or so says my crack-pot science theory.

After clocking out, I would go out to my car and clear the snow off the wind-shield. Then, while I was waiting for the engine to warm up, I would turn on the light and read these little scraps, whispering, “How fascinating!” to myself as I examined the multi-colored scribbles. Then the heat would kick on and I’d forget about them, going driving home and stuffing them in a drawer where they would remain for many years until today. My favorite is in the upper left hand corner. It says, “Rancid is the best band ever!”