Isabella shifted uneasily behind the counter. I’ll never pay off my debts on this lousy salary, she thought – four hundred for the loan, two hundred for bills, at least a hundred for petrol. If I make a thousand euros, that means another whole month stuffing myself with those stupid Crispies.
“Good morning. How can I help?” She greeted every customer with the same words.
Three a day, one in the evening, never before bed, don’t push the suppositories in too far, aspirin for inflammation, naproxen, paracetamol, thrush … Dosages, instructions, medicines, complaints — her head was spinning from all the prescribed medicines, and on top of that she had to be friendly.
“Good morning. I want to buy some tiles.”
She looked up. Perhaps it wasn’t going to be such a shitty day after all. Standing in front of her was a man nearly two metres tall. He probably had potential once, flashed through her mind. He had a large nose. She was convinced that self-confident, successful men had noses like that. His eyes were a piercing blue. A cap drooped over his forehead. Every wrinkle on his face probably had a story of its own.
“Tiles?”
“Yes, tiles. Fanny has wanted new ones for years. In the bathroom. You do have them, don’t you?”
Isabella turned to her colleague, smiled mischievously and winked.
“All right, all right. May I ask you something?” she said, looking at him from under her brows.
“What? I’m hard of hearing.”
“May I ask you something?” Isabella said, louder this time.
“Go on, then.”
“Are you interested in wall tiles or floor tiles?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well…” She paused for a moment. She ran a hand through her fair hair and smiled seductively. Her carefully tended white teeth appeared, suiting her well-proportioned face. The sea of freckles scattered around her nose only emphasised her beauty.
“Will the tiles be laid on the floor or on the walls?”
“Girl, I’ll be laying them myself,” he said, getting worked up. He awkwardly adjusted his dentures. Whenever he opened his mouth too wide, they tried to slip out. “Do you know how many bathrooms I’ve done?”
“Calm down, sir. Are you putting the tiles on the floor or on the walls?”
The gentleman scratched his chin and adjusted his dentures. “On the floor.”
“Excellent. Would you like tiles with a wood, marble or stone effect?”
He snorted through his nose a few times and adjusted his dentures again. “Damn. I’ll have to ask Fanny that.”
“A good decision, sir. Here you are; take a sweet from the bowl. Talk it over with Fanny and come back tomorrow. You know, with such important things, it doesn’t do to rush.”
He nodded and raised his thumb in the air.
“See you then.”
Dementia can also bring amusing stories, the kind we sometimes laugh at from the heart. In doing so, we don’t hurt or insult people with dementia; instead, we discover those rare, joyful moments we later remember with fondness. In this story, we see how the pharmacy assistant responds appropriately to her customers’ unusual requests.