Silence Falls

Feast forgets famine and vice versa

“Hello yessss, might I inquire about your dissssscountssss for combined ssssshipping?”

In one season of Doctor Who, the world is terrorized by an alien race called The Silence, whose chief defense is leaving no memory behind.  You’re only aware of them while directly looking at them, and the minute you break that eye contact, it’s as if they never existed – even if they’re standing right behind you – until you see them again.

After thirty years of varying degrees of self-employment, I still haven’t beaten the Silence here in my garage full of treasures.  So far, this week’s been a good one – I’ve sold some expensive vinyl, a big box of cheap cassettes headed to China, lots of little bundles of CDs, and a steady trickle of the sci-fi paperbacks that I feel will be in my orbit forever.

But I just came off one of the slowest months I’ve had in a while.  And every cliché out there about men with the flu applies to me when my sales are sick.  I get depressed.  I wonder if anyone ever bought any of this stuff before.  I don’t make eye contact with my postal clerks when I’m bringing in a paltry stack of packages.  I complain.  I complain a lot.