The Last-Minute Purchase

Me work in a jewellery store? It’s hard to imagine. I don’t wear any accessories, not even a watch. However, the sign was in the window many years ago when I was a teenager and I needed the money. They must have needed help for Christmas and I mean “really needed” help to hire me. So I became an employee for Morse Jewellers in Northtown Plaza in Willowdale for the holiday season.

Not having any interest in jewellery reflected in my sales. After two weeks, George, my boss, brought out the sales figures. I was dead last. The only thing I was good at was selling aftershave. We had a nice one called British Stirling. I convinced the women who were buying it for their men that they were really buying it for themselves. It didn’t matter if their husband or boyfriend liked it. If it pleased them, it was the right one.

The closer we got to Christmas, the busier the store got. We braced ourselves for the big day, Christmas Eve.

True to form, many customers, mostly men, rushed into the store desperate to find the perfect gift for their loved ones. Of course, we had just what they wanted, showing them the more expensive items and only showing lower priced ones if they asked.

About a half an hour before closing, a young girl came into the store with a worried look. All the stores would be closing soon. I asked her if I could help her.

“I want to buy a gift for my mom,” she said. “It has to be something very special.”

“What can you tell me about your mom?” I asked.

“She’s beautiful,” came the reply.

My next question was how much money she had to spend.

“Six dollars.”

“Six dollars!” I thought. There was very little in the store to choose from at that price. Meanwhile, the store suddenly got crowded with last minute shoppers. George, my boss, gave me a quick glare.

“Does your mother wear earrings?”

“Yes, she does.”

“Are her ears pierced?”

“Yes, they are.”

Now we were getting somewhere. I knew that we had some earrings that would fit into her price range.

I patiently showed her several pairs. Nothing seemed special enough for the young girl’s mom. The store was filling up; wallets being flipped out like a shootout at the OK Corral. George kept furtively glancing at me.

Finally, like the star in the east, a pair of earrings appeared. The little girl gasped, “They’re perfect. My mom will love these.”

Quickly, we rushed to the cash register and I rung in the sale. It came to $4.98. As I started to put the earrings in the bag two big, brown eyes sparkled at me with great joy. Yes, the joy of the season was in her eyes.

I couldn’t stop my next sentence. I blurted, “Would you like that gift wrapped?”

“Would you?” she squealed.

I went to the back of the store. George’s eyes followed me like searchlights looking for enemy aircraft. He was scrambling to serve the many customers.

I got out one of the special Morse Jewellery boxes, wrapped it gold paper, put red ribbon around it and asked, “Would you like a bow?”

“Oh, yes!”

I found a perfect red one. The gift looked beautiful, fit for the best mom in the world. She must have been the best mom in the world. What other kind of mother would raise such a wonderful child.

She walked out of the store, head held high, reminiscent of one of the wise men in days of old bringing a gift for a special child born in Bethlehem. I walked her to the door, opened it and delivered her to her dad, who had watched the proceedings from outside with great interest.

It was one minute to six. I turned around and there was George. Let’s just say he didn’t wish me a Merry Christmas. In fact, he wasn’t very merry at all.

“We had many customers who wanted to spend a lot of money and you wasted a lot of time on a sale of $4.98. Not only that, you gift-wrapped her present. We only do that for purchases of over $10.”

Without hesitation, fear and in a cheery voice, I replied, “Yes, there were many with lots of money, but this child knows the true spirit of giving. She gave most of what she had. All I did was thank her for showing me what Christmas is all about. It’s not about money. It’s about giving. Merry Christmas, George.”