The Black Experience Salesman (Part 2)

 

Oct. 5, 2024 

                                              

Something about Dr Lester seemed incredibly appealing, as George thought to himself as he lay sprawled in the street after tumbling off his bike. The man practically crackled with electricity, an almost unholy energy that pulsed outward from him like a forcefield. Any casual observer of the moment when George fell from his bike would have assumed the unfortunate event occurred due to George being caught off-guard when Dr. Lester spoke to him as he pedaled past the sharply-dressed man standing on the corner.

“Well, you finally decided to come my way, I see,” is what Dr. Lester had said, at which point George glanced hastily over his shoulder at the source of the commentary, his eyes wide with surprise. And that’s when George fell.

“Oh dear. I see we have some work to do,” said Dr. Lester before laughing uproariously, which didn’t seem like a very nice thing to do. But that part of having some work to do was actually true, as would be revealed soon enough.

But about that casual observer. What was most likely missed is that it wasn’t what Dr. Lester said that caused George to fall off his bike into the street. Rather, it was the impact of that forcefield pulsing outward as George rode by that shoved him like a blast of wind. What any observer most likely would not have missed, however, is the fact that Dr. Lester had not been standing at that particular corner – nor had anyone else – until mere moments before George came pedaling along, thinking to himself how strange it was that this street was completely empty, how it looked so out of place in a Detroit landscape in a way that only a longtime Detroiter would have sensed immediately.

But that is only what the casual observer would have noticed. Because, as George himself noticed, there was absolutely nobody around at all except for this singular, striking individual, throbbing with otherworldly energy, holding a briefcase with one hand while pointing at him lying there in the street with the other.

“This is funny to you?” asked George eventually, once he had gathered his senses and felt a tinge of anger replacing his initial embarrassment at crashing so spectacularly in front of a complete stranger. To George, it seemed like he was always tripping or stumbling at awkward times in front of strangers, but mostly, those strangers didn’t laugh at him. They just ignored him.

“You’re accustomed to being ignored, aren’t you, George?”

“Wait..how did you know my…who the hell are you?”

The man seemed to briefly shimmer and shift, as if he were a hologram of some sort, but then solidified himself once more. He dropped his accusatory finger, and his laughter ceased as if it had been interrupted, like someone raised the needle off the record. But the broad smile remained.

“George, I am Dr. Lester. Over the next month, we are going to become the best of friends in the best possible way. Your life is about to change in incredible and remarkable ways that will set your currently unremarkable and culturally insignificant life on a path of eye-popping relevance. You will never be ignored again, George. As a senior Black Experience Salesman, you have been assigned to me as an emergency case in need of what we offer, and I have never, ever failed an assignment. Although, admittedly, you do pose some unique challenges. But failure is not an option, George.”

By now, George was standing back up on his own two feet, his eyes squinted, his rather large head cocked to the side. It seemed he had forgotten all about his bike.

“But assigned by who?”