Every Time We Say Goodbye – Ella Fitzgerald
"Every time we say goodbye, I die a little
Every time we say goodbye, I wonder why, a little
Why the gods above me, who must be in the know
Think so little of me; they allow you to go."
If you asked her, Helga wouldn't be able to explain why exactly she took the job at Madame Chere's Boutique. It was everything she disliked all wrapped up in an over-perfumed little package; it was old-fashioned, refined, and perpetually filled with frilly things and old ladies. What's worse, old ladies who were shopping. Old ladies, in Helga's opinion, were THEE most demanding, needy customers on the planet. Ask anyone in the customer service industry, and they'd agree with that statement.
Another issue with the boutique was the ambient music tapes they made her play over and over and over. It was all old stuff, to create some sort of nostalgic feel to the shop, or make the old people feel more comfortable or something. At this point, every time she heard "Fly Me To The Moon", she got the urge to punch the nearest customer. It was that bad.
But heck, at least it was a bi-monthly paycheck. She had to get her finances somewhere. She couldn't get it at home. Big Bob was far too stingy to fork any cash along her way. So, some weekday afternoons and every Saturday afternoon, there she was. Folding, hanging, helping, and in all ways earning her way to those Wrestlemania tickets….
This Saturday, however, was notably dull. Well, they all were, but this one was EXCEPTIONALLY notably dull. The economic crisis seemed to be hitting everyone, Helga noted. Not even the retired were immune to its effects. No one had entered the shop all day during her shift. Which was even worse than usual, since it gave her nothing to distract herself from her hatred of her job.
Scowling and thinking of all the better things she could be wasting her time with on a Saturday afternoon, Helga walked around the shop, peering underneath gaudy clothing racks and asphyxiatingly over-perfumed dressing room doors. The store was in tip-top shape. Defeated in her search for something to occupy herself with, she looked longingly out the window from behind the cashier's counter.
Gasping, she saw Arnold's grandpa's Packard putter past. She sighed dreamily. Arnold…
If only, for some crazy reason, his wonderfully oblong football head decided to visit the shop…She'd be polite, charming, even friendly, and would help him find whatever it was he came in for…He'd realize what a delightful girl she was, and declare his undying love to her. Tragically, however, he would have to leave to deliver the item he'd purchased, but he'd promise his steadfast return, leaving her with a passionate kiss and fifty bucks in the tip jar…
Unnoticed by Helga, the ambient music began to creep into her daydream. It was "Every Time We Say Goodbye"…Helga actually could tolerate that one. Absently, she began to sway to the bittersweet song. It was almost funny how well Ella sound tracked her daydream, which had suddenly turned into a slow dance with Arnold ( which was, in reality, an undressed mannequin). She imagined a golden lit dance floor in a smoky lounge...she was in an elegantly stunning red gown; He, in a finely tailored suit, his unruly hair coiffed, he deep emerald eyes gazing longingly into her glimmering blue ones...
Helga was lost in the moment, the music, the dream. She sang with passion to her Mannequin-Arnold, and twirled around the shop. She was so absorbed in the moment, in fact, that she failed to notice the front door's bells jingle to announce the arrival of new customers…
"There's no love song finer…but how strange the change from major to minor…every time …we say… goodbye…" She finished to applause. She screamed in surprise and ducked behind the counter.
"Oh, Eleanor!" Helga's heart sank. She knew that voice. And she didn't know anybody else who called her "Eleanor"…all Helga could do now was pray Arnold wasn't with her…
"That was lovely, just lovely…" gushed Gertie. "Don't you agree, General?"
No. No, no no no....This couldn't be happening.
"Yeah. Wow, Helga…I didn't know you could sing." Said Arnold in surprise.
Helga had only two options now; fight, or flight. But if she left, she would get fired…And she certainly couldn't face Arnold now after that little mushfest.
So she did what came most naturally in situations like these.
And fainted.