Counter Productive
By Stephanie Haddad
I hate people that look into this mirror as if no one else can see them. They check their teeth, pucker their lips (how’s
this lipstick?), fuss with their hair, suck in their stomach, turn sideways (how’s my stomach from this side?), and look
ridiculous. But it’s ok, because they don’t know that other people are watching. Ah, sweet obliviousness.
This particular mirror gets a lot of action. It’s situated in a central location, in the midst of a department-like store
that isn’t quite sure what it wants to be when it grows up. Are we a clothing retailer? How about a bookseller? No, I
got it, we sell souvenirs. How about we just sell everything? And that is how this mirror ended up amongst this
conglomerate of merchandise, proudly affixed to the front right corner of our makeup counter.
My job is to watch these people watch themselves in the mirror. My job is also to tell these people, harshly
critiquing themselves in my mirror, what they can buy that will make them like themselves, if not completely at least
more than they do now. Sell them whatever that is and all of its accessories.
My boss calls me a ‘drug-dealer’ because of my ruthless targeting of these self-loathers. Just try this one thing
and I’ll give you free samples of some other amazing products that you can come back to buy later. You’ll love them.
I promise. And I do this and they come back. Now they’re hooked. Now they trust me and they trust this brand that I
mercilessly sell to them. And above all, now I can make my commission.
Lipstick is the gateway drug. We find the perfect lipstick that completes you; it makes you the woman you want
to be. It brightens your face, compliments your hair color and really brings out your eyes. Perfect. This color, I do
believe, was manufactured simply for you. Buy it. Wear it. Love it.
Sadly, your glorious lipstick-to-end-all-lipsticks is just slightly wrong for your eye shadow. Don’t have a
complimentary color at home? That’s ok, we have them here. Lots of them; you can buy them in sets. Here’s a great
daytime color, and this shade will be perfect for evening wear. Oh yes, of course, you’re going to need this sexy,
sultry new eyeliner we just came out with (three years ago). Don’t even get me going on that horrible drug-store
mascara you’re wearing that’s most definitely filled with bacteria. Mother of God, how can you do this to yourself?
And that cheek color you have on is clearly a pink tone. Hello, 1985? That just won’t do if you’re wearing this
violet-toned lipstick day-in and day-out. Here, this is better. And just apply it like so, with this special $30 blush
brush with handcrafted bristles by community-trade African workers in Zambia. It’s 100% synthetic. And so soft. Isn’t
that something?
Now you’re in. If you stay in my chair long enough, you can leave with a brand new face. None of your friends
will believe it. You’ll be gorgeous. You might even get promoted or get a hot date tonight. Take a chance, live a
little. You deserve it.
I hate mirrors. I especially hate this mirror because it makes me do this to innocent passers-by who are careless
with their wallets. If only they knew that I was watching, maybe they wouldn’t have made such a fuss in the mirror.
Vulnerability is my appetizer and your wallet is my entree. And I think it’s delicious.
By Stephanie Haddad
I hate people that look into this mirror as if no one else can see them. They check their teeth, pucker their lips (how’s
this lipstick?), fuss with their hair, suck in their stomach, turn sideways (how’s my stomach from this side?), and look
ridiculous. But it’s ok, because they don’t know that other people are watching. Ah, sweet obliviousness.
This particular mirror gets a lot of action. It’s situated in a central location, in the midst of a department-like store
that isn’t quite sure what it wants to be when it grows up. Are we a clothing retailer? How about a bookseller? No, I
got it, we sell souvenirs. How about we just sell everything? And that is how this mirror ended up amongst this
conglomerate of merchandise, proudly affixed to the front right corner of our makeup counter.
My job is to watch these people watch themselves in the mirror. My job is also to tell these people, harshly
critiquing themselves in my mirror, what they can buy that will make them like themselves, if not completely at least
more than they do now. Sell them whatever that is and all of its accessories.
My boss calls me a ‘drug-dealer’ because of my ruthless targeting of these self-loathers. Just try this one thing
and I’ll give you free samples of some other amazing products that you can come back to buy later. You’ll love them.
I promise. And I do this and they come back. Now they’re hooked. Now they trust me and they trust this brand that I
mercilessly sell to them. And above all, now I can make my commission.
Lipstick is the gateway drug. We find the perfect lipstick that completes you; it makes you the woman you want
to be. It brightens your face, compliments your hair color and really brings out your eyes. Perfect. This color, I do
believe, was manufactured simply for you. Buy it. Wear it. Love it.
Sadly, your glorious lipstick-to-end-all-lipsticks is just slightly wrong for your eye shadow. Don’t have a
complimentary color at home? That’s ok, we have them here. Lots of them; you can buy them in sets. Here’s a great
daytime color, and this shade will be perfect for evening wear. Oh yes, of course, you’re going to need this sexy,
sultry new eyeliner we just came out with (three years ago). Don’t even get me going on that horrible drug-store
mascara you’re wearing that’s most definitely filled with bacteria. Mother of God, how can you do this to yourself?
And that cheek color you have on is clearly a pink tone. Hello, 1985? That just won’t do if you’re wearing this
violet-toned lipstick day-in and day-out. Here, this is better. And just apply it like so, with this special $30 blush
brush with handcrafted bristles by community-trade African workers in Zambia. It’s 100% synthetic. And so soft. Isn’t
that something?
Now you’re in. If you stay in my chair long enough, you can leave with a brand new face. None of your friends
will believe it. You’ll be gorgeous. You might even get promoted or get a hot date tonight. Take a chance, live a
little. You deserve it.
I hate mirrors. I especially hate this mirror because it makes me do this to innocent passers-by who are careless
with their wallets. If only they knew that I was watching, maybe they wouldn’t have made such a fuss in the mirror.
Vulnerability is my appetizer and your wallet is my entree. And I think it’s delicious.
New Hampshire Writers Flash Fiction
 |
 |
 |