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MASK MARKETING
Liz hummed along to the oldies station playing over Recycled Novels’s PA system. It was nice background noise while she sat behind the counter and sewed. The small, secondhand bookstore that she owned with her wife, Mona, was thankfully—and regrettably—quiet today. Just as it’d been yesterday. And the day before that. And pretty much every day since the lockdown started.
But at least they were open. And, thanks to their loyal customers, they kept just enough business running through to stay open.
Liz liked to think that it was also thanks to the welcoming, homey feel to their store that you just couldn’t get from the box chains, much less the huge online retailers. They cared about their customers. Knew many of them by name and reading preferences. And everyone liked to feel like they mattered.
“What are you working on there, Liz?”
At Patty’s voice, Liz looked up just as she finished her last stitch. Smiling, she held up the cloth mask she’d completed. “The latest addition to our collection. What do you think?”
Patty eyed it, her gaze narrowing above her own disposal mask. “Is that one of John’s old uniforms?”
Liz nodded and smiled behind her mask. “Yep, his wife dropped off a bunch of old torn or stained waitstaff uniforms that they were planning to just throw or give away.”
Patty stared at the transformed cloth in Liz’s hands. “And you’re making masks with them?”
Liz nodded and pointed to the basket full of cloth masks at the front of the store with the large, Wonderlandian “Take Me” sign on it. “We’re asking everyone who comes into the store to wear a mask, so the least we could do is provide people with some, if they don’t have their own.”
Patty reached out for the mask Liz was holding. “And people can just take them?”
Liz nodded as she handed it over. “Yep.” All the fabric was donated, so giving the masks away for free wasn’t a big deal. Even with the discount, it worked out, since it brought people into the store. Especially since it seemed as if everyone, cooped up during quarantine, had decided to clean out their closets.
Besides, Liz liked to sew and could churn them out quickly enough. And, if it encouraged people to wear masks, not just in the store but everywhere, Liz thought the extra effort well worth it.
She knew that Mona had reservations about it, but Liz was sure it was nothing. Liz would make sure it wasn’t. Lord knew, with the quarantine and how it’d affected the store, Mona had enough to deal with.
Besides, Liz could totally handle this. Sales was what she was good at. Raising an eyebrow at Patty, she pointed to the large donation box next to the basket. “You get a five percent discount off your order, if you donate old clothes or blankets or fabric.”
Patty perked up. “Really?” She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I’ve got some old clothes that, thanks to the quarantine fifteen I’ve put on, I’ll never fit into again.” Patty handed over the books she was carrying. ”I could bring them around later...”
Liz smiled as she began to ring the woman up. “Bring them around today or tomorrow and we’ll just use the discount now, okay?” She winked at the woman, knowing that Patty loved nothing more than getting a good deal.
Patty nodded as she handed over her credit card. “Thank you and will do. I’ll also let some of my coworkers know; I bet they have a ton of stuff to donate.”
“Thanks!” Liz handed the woman back her card and bag full of books.
On her way out, Patty stopped to look at the basket. “Do you mind if I take some?” She touched her own disposable mask. “These are getting kind of expensive now, if you can even find any anywhere.”
Liz nodded, as she pulled out another waitstaff shirt to cut out her pattern. “Go ahead. There’s more where that came from.”
Patty sifted excitedly through the masks, picking out her favorite patterns. “Thanks, Liz. You’re the best.”
* * *
After finishing the day’s book deliveries, Mona carried the empty boxes back into the store. Quarantine had definitely changed how they did business, but at least they were still in business.
For however long that lasted. The government loan for small business owners helped, but it was quickly running out.
Fact was they needed to adapt. Needed to find new ways to meet the most needs of the most people they could. Which meant implementing pick-up-and-delivery services—which often meant higher gas budgets as well as long hours spent away from the store—as well as being strategically stingy with hours—which meant either disappointing employees depending on the hours to live or unaffordably over-staffing the store.
And then there were Liz’s ideas.
Mona peeked into the store and watched Liz, in one of her handmade masks made from an old Recycled Novel tote bag they used to sell a while back. Sitting on the stool they kept by the cash register. Liz contently sewed the small scraps of fabric in her hands. Mona touched her own upcycled mask and marveled at her wife’s serene presence. Liz was one of those women who always seemed unfazed. Nothing got to her.
Not aging or death. She wore her grey hairs, shooting boldly through her chestnut hair, and her laugh lines that framed lips often painted the strange colors and glosses of a high school rebel proudly.
Not financial or political or pandemic uncertainty. Mona’s unflappable Liz preferred to believe that things would find a way of working out. That, if you did your best and trusted that everyone else would too, things would be okay. She lived for the day and was content to let tomorrow fret about itself.
Mona was definitely the worrier of the two, always thinking about the future and making sure they were taken care of. It was necessary and a nice balance to Liz’s more in-the-moment personality.
But Liz balanced Mona out too. Especially with their future—the whole world’s future—so uncertain at the moment, it was too easy for Mona to get lost in all her worries. To stress out about the what-ifs and what-mays.
But just a look, or a smile, or a word, or a touch, from Liz and Mona’s world seemed to right again. Looking at Liz now, smiling as she swayed to the music she was listening to, Mona felt centered again. As if just the sight of Liz reminded Mona why she worked so hard to provide for them and their future. Liz and the life they’d built together was worth any effort.
Even dealing with her often eccentric ideas on marketing. Smiling herself, Mona shook her head as she headed back to the car to grab the box of donated books she’d picked up and bring it into the store. Gotta love her—and Mona did—but Liz did not have the best head for business. She was the creative sort.
The tote bags, they’d been Liz’s idea. A neat way to be more environmentally friendly as well as organically advertize for the store. Except she’d failed to realize that it was costly to produce the bags, especially if no one remembered to use them more than once.
No, Liz was the frontman in this little operation of theirs, taking care of the sales part of the store. Under normal circumstances, Mona was more than happy to stay in the back room keeping the books, while Liz sold them.
But, during quarantine, it meant, as the frontman, Liz was on the front lines. It was hard to social distance while also trying to make a sale.
So, while Mona didn’t think Liz’s latest mask campaign was bad—especially if it kept her and their employees and customers safer—Mona did worry if, just as with Liz’s other marketing ideas, it might end up being bad for business.
Mona wrinkled her nose as she sorted through the box of donated books, separating them by genre. She watched the news. She was on social media. Regardless of whether they should be or not, masks were a polarizing issue. And the last thing you wanted to be in business was divisive. They couldn’t afford to alienate potential customers for any reason and Lord knew the last thing they needed was to be the latest pandemic viral video.
But, at least for now, Liz seemed to be right. The neighborhood loved her masks. Especially her ones for kids, that she made with fun prints and patterns. Mona couldn’t go anywhere without seeing at least one person wearing one of Liz’s handsewn creations. And her donation discount did drum up some business, bringing people in with the promise of saving a few bucks in exchange for old, unwanted clothes.
So Mona held her tongue and hoped for the best. She knew that she should be more supportive. Definitely knew that Liz wished she were. But, try as she might, Mona just couldn’t wipe away her worries.
She should try harder though. After all, Recycled Novels was a small store in a close-knit community with a fairly regular customer base. Mona grabbed an armful of books to start inventorying. What could happen?
* * *
Liz looked up from her stitching when she heard raised voices.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” she heard Nadia, one of their employees, say in a friendly but firm tone, “but, for everyone’s safety, it’s our policy that everyone in the store needs to wear a face mask.”
“You can’t do that! Last time I checked we still live in a free country.”
Liz rolled her eyes. Agatha. Of course it would be her.
Liz appreciated each and every customer who came into the store and did her best to give them the best experience possible. But Agatha made that very difficult.
Like that time she complained that the store’s selection of books on Christianity was stacked with all the other books on religion and belief, rather than a section onto itself. Or the time she tried to petition the store to stop selling books on sexuality and queer books, claiming they were inappropriate and offensive. And, of course, there was her perennial suggestion to follow up the store’s celebration of black authors during black history month with a month promoting white authors, because Agatha thought it terribly unfair to punish authors for being white.
After a bolstering breath, Liz stood up and grabbed the mask basket from the front of the store and headed back to where she could hear Agatha lecturing Nadia about health conspiracies surrounding masks.
Poor Nadia was cringing away as Agatha loomed over the poor college student. The woman had her phone out and pointed at Nadia as she all but shouted, “You cannot tell me what to do. I am a citizen of the United States and you cannot violate my constitutional rights with your fake-news pandemic mandates. And you should know that I’m filming this whole thing.”
Nadia, bless her, was keeping her cool, repeating the lines they’d practiced at their last team meeting. “For everyone’s safety, it’s store policy that everyone needs to wear some kind of face covering.”
“And I told you,” Agatha spat back, “I don’t have one.”
“Well, good luck for you!” Liz said in her bubbliest voice. “We have free ones right here. You can pick out one you like and take it home with you.”
Agatha glared at Liz, turning to aim her phone at her. “I do not want to take one home with me. I don’t need your masks; I’m perfectly healthy.”
Liz continued to smile behind her mask. “No problem. You can drop it off in the donation box up front when you leave.” She put a little more steel in her voice to make her point. “But we are asking all our customers and staff to wear masks while in the store, in an effort to keep all of us safe.”
“Safe?!” Agatha turned her ire on Liz. “Those things kill people. Think about it, if they really do what you think they do, they’d not only be blocking the virus from infecting you, they’d be trapping any other kind of bacteria and disease on the inside of the mask with you.”
Nadia’s eyes went wide as she silently screamed at Liz “this is what I’ve been dealing with.” Liz just shook her head before nodding toward the checkout counter to let the girl know she could leave. Even through Nadia’s mask, Liz could see the girl mouth her thanks before rushing away.
Liz knew that she worked in a bookstore. Her job was to literally share and spread information. But she’d learned that, when it came to the service industry, being correct was not always as important as being effective. Especially while being filmed. “Well, as you said, you are perfectly healthy, so you don’t have to worry about anything getting trapped behind the mask, right?”
Agatha eyed the masks suspiciously before doing the same to Liz. “You made these?”
Liz felt her stomach drop. Ugh, she knew where this was going. Agatha, during her crusade to ban queer books from the store, had claimed that the gay lifestyle promoted and spread diseases.
Feeling her smile waver as her jaw clenched, Liz tried you keep her voice calm. “We wash all the fabric before we sew them and wash all the finished masks before we put them on the floor.”
Crossing her arms over her chest, Agatha shook her head. “I’m not wearing one of your masks.”
Liz shrugged. “Then you’ll have to leave the store.”
Agatha balked. “You can’t kick me out. I am an American citizen. I have a right to shop wherever I want.”
“And this is private property,” Liz pointed out. “We have the right to institute and enforce policies to protect our staff and customers.”
Agatha bristled. “This is a violation of my constitutional rights and you should know that I’ve been filming this the whole time.”
As if the phone in her hand, aimed straight at Liz’s face, didn’t make that perfectly clear. Liz sighed and tried to sound as reasonable as possible. “Agatha, all we’re asking is for you to wear a mask—either one of ours, that we’re giving away for free, or one you bring from home—while you’re in the store. Then, if you want, you can take it off when you leave.”
Agatha stepped forward, making Liz involuntarily step back. Smugly, she said, “Or what?”
“Or you can leave.” They both turned to see Mona standing at the end of the aisle, her hands on her hips. Her beautiful face, even behind her Recycled Novels mask, was set in determined lines as her body gave off don’t mess with me vibes. It really shouldn’t be sexy, but it was. Liz sidestepped Agatha to stand next to Mona. A pleased thrill ran through her as Mona raised a protective arm in front of her.
“You can’t kick me out,” Agatha demanded. “That is discrimination.”
Mona looked at Liz and lifted a skeptical brow. “Discrimination?”
“Against the unmasked community!” Agatha marched toward the couple, “You’d think you two—of all people—wouldn’t want others to know that you discriminate against a persecuted group of people.”
Mona shut her eyes in an almost successful attempt to hide her eyeroll. “The…” she pursed her lips before saying, “unmasked community is a persecuted group?”
“I’m being persecuted right now!” Agatha shoved her phone into Mona’s face. “And everyone is going to hear about this.”
Mona sighed. “That’s fine. You do that but, according to store policy, while you do, you’ll need to either put on a mask or leave.”
“Then I guess I’ll leave!”
“Great.” Leaving Liz behind, Mona ushered Agatha to the door.
“You’ll pay for this!” Agatha yelled over her shoulder. “Once I post this, your little store, Recycled Novels, will be ruined.”
Liz winced when she heard Agatha say the store’s name. She was sure it was nothing. Even if Agatha did post her video, how much attention would it get, really?
“Wonderful.” Mona opened the door, waving the woman and her phone out of the store. “Have a lovely day.”
Agatha kicked over the box of donated clothes, spilling old shirts and dresses onto the floor. “Say goodbye to your business, ladies.”
Mona shut the door behind her before turning her back sharply. “Goodbye.” She shot Liz an I told you this would happen look before stomping to the back room again.
With a sinking feeling creeping through her, Liz watched as Agatha got video of herself ranting wildly in front of the store. She watched as the woman was sure to get the store’s sign in frame.
Whatever happened—whatever negative attention or drop in business that she knew they couldn’t afford right now—because of this would be all her fault. Feeling worried and self-conscious, Liz awkwardly walked back toward the checkout counter.
“Are you,” Nadia asked as she moved out from behind the cash register, “okay?”
Liz nodded. Then shook her head. “Why don’t you take a break for a bit?”
“Are you sure?” Nadia bit her lip, clearly not wanting to leave Liz alone.
“Yeah.” Liz gave the girl a reassuring smile. “Agatha can be challenging; I’m sorry about that. Go ahead and just take a long lunch today; we’ll be fine.”
Nadia, looking both relieved and worried, nodded. “Okay. Thanks. Do you want me to get Mona to help out on the floor then?”
“No.” Liz gave a quick shake of her head. Mona was angry. Had every right to be. She had tried to tell Liz. The knowing look Mona had hurled at her still stung. And, still holding the basket of masks in her hands as she stared at the half-finished mask sitting in the counter, Liz didn’t think she was up to dealing with that right now. “No, I’ll be fine. Just go on.”
Liz should have seen this coming. Thought she had. She’d held team meetings where they’d gone over what to say and do. She’d tried to make the policy as customer-friendly as possible, even providing free masks for everyone. She’d tried to make it fun, by making it community-driven and incentive-based with the donation discount. It should have worked.
But she’d failed.
Just like she always did.
And Mona had had to come in and save her. Just like she always did.
Frowning, Liz grabbed the unfinished mask and her sewing supplies off the counter and dumped both it and the basket of masks into the donation box, before shoving all the old clothes and discarded fabric back into the box. She’d toss it in the trash later, when Mona left to do deliveries. For now, she hefted and hid it away behind the counter, where only she could see it.
But, as she sat back down at the counter, it felt as if it—every mask, both finished and not, every scrap of fabric, the box, the whole ridiculous concept—was staring back. She could still feel the gaze of Agatha’s phone glaring at her, capturing and replaying the whole ordeal over and over again. In her head, she could feel the viral eyes of Agatha’s viewers judging her through their screens. The weight of all that compounded with her every past failure and marketing mistake, as she sat there behind her counter and stared at her lovely store that was just barely hanging on, and she felt crushed beneath it all.
Mona was right. Maybe she should just stop trying.
* * *
Mona had been stewing the rest of the day. Agatha and her outlandish video! If it were up to Mona, after all of Agatha’s distasteful antics, she’d happily ban the woman from the store for good.
But she and Liz had had that discussion. Many times now. Liz firmly believed that the worst thing they could do is cut Agatha off from the education and information she desperately needed. Liz believed in slowly shifting people. Thought that, if she just talked enough to Agatha, she could somehow crack some sense through the woman’s thick skull.
Mona snorted as she parked her car in the lot behind the store. There was optimism and then there was just hopeless naïveté. Liz should have known that attention-seeking conspiracy theorist would pull a stunt like that.
Mona knew! She’d told Liz that something like that could happen. But she’d foolishly let Liz convince her that she could handle it. That she was prepared.
Ha!
Now who knew what was going to happen once that ignorant opportunist posted her video? With their luck, Agatha would probably start a boycott, complete with annoyingly over-the-top protests in front of the store. Ugh, just what they needed.
Mona got out of the car and slammed the door shut. Now, she’d probably have to spend the rest of the night figuring out how to fix their finances, in case this all blew up in their faces.
Mona groaned and headed to the store’s back door, only to stop when she spotted Liz’s donation box on the pavement next to the trash cans. Mona looked at it confused. What was it doing there?
She reached in and sifted through the fabric. Had something happened while she was gone? Had Agatha come back and poured paint or something into the box?
Mona fingered all the fabric. Nothing looked wrong.
She yelped, when her finger got pricked. More carefully, she dug to the bottom of the box, where a still pinned-up mask lay crumpled along with the rest of Liz’s sewing supplies. Mona frowned.
Picking up the box, she carried it back into the store.
“Liz?” she called, walking onto the floor.
She stopped.
Liz looked so sad, sitting behind the counter. Not doing anything else. Not humming. Not dancing. Not sewing. Just sitting alone in the now closed store. Her slim shoulders were slumped over and her eyes stared off into nothing. With her mask laying lonesome on the counter, Mona could see worry lines crease Liz's pretty face, framing a frown. She looked tired. Defeated. “Liz?”
She turned around to look at Mona and the discarded donation box in her hands. “Oh.” Her face flushed and her frown deepened. “I didn’t…” She shook her head. “You didn’t have to…” She pursed her lips together as her shoulders fell even more. “I’m sorry.”
Mona put down the box and walked over to Liz. “For what?” She touched the other woman’s shoulder comfortingly.
“For not listening to you.” She ducked her head. “I should have listened to you. You were right.” She looked up at the box sadly. “The masks were just another bad idea.”
What happened to her unflappable Liz? Mona hated seeing her like this. Couldn’t stand it. Liz was the eternal optimist, the hopeful dreamer. Seeing her down made Mona feel like her world was crumbling. If Liz couldn’t have hope, where would someone like Mona ever hope to find it?
Liz sighed sadly. “I’m sorry.”
Mona shook her head. Nope. She took her own mask off, laying it next to Liz's. No. She dropped to her knees next to Liz. “Please don’t be sorry.” She looked up at Liz, who looked down at her curiously. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
“But Agatha.” Liz shook her head, clutching her hands in her lap. “And that video. If she posts it…”
Which they both knew she would, spiteful woman. Mona sighed and reached up to cover Liz’s hands with hers. “Then we’ll deal with it.”
Liz tried to pull her hands away, but Mona wouldn’t let her. “But we wouldn’t have to, if I’d just stayed out of it.”
“Stayed out of what?” Mona asked, squeezing her hands. “Our business? You were doing the right thing. We both agreed on the mandatory mask policy, so we could protect our workers, our customers, and ourselves. Your masks are a part of that.”
They were. A fun part of it. Before Agatha decided to play amateur, Facebook documentarian and ruined it all.
Liz scoffed. “Yeah, and look how that turned out.”
Mona shrugged. “So Agatha decided to be Agatha about it." She shook her head. "Sometimes doing the right thing isn’t easy,” she said as she rubbed her thumb over Liz’s palm, "but that doesn’t make it less right.” She stood up to tip back Liz’s head and kiss her gently. “That just makes you braver.”
When Liz smiled, Mona felt her world ease. “You think?”
Mona nodded. “Absolutely.” She should have been more supportive of Liz before. She would be from now on. “In fact, if Agatha wants to play hardball, we should too.”
Liz let out a small laugh. “Oh yeah? How would we do that?”
Mona shrugged. “I don’t know; you’re the idea lady. I just run the numbers. But I bet you’ve got some great ideas.”
Liz bit her lip. “Well,” she said with a shrug, “I did talk to Megan, from the elementary school, the other day, who said they were looking for activities for the kids to do, once school started again.” Liz tilted her head thoughtfully. “We thought, since the school is so close, they could walk over as a field trip and learn how to make and decorate their own masks as a fun way to promote health and hygiene.”
Mona smiled. “See!” She hugged Liz. “Sounds like a great idea. We can set up space in the parking lot, so the kids can be outside.”
Liz nodded excitedly. “And, if it goes well, maybe we can offer a class for the community. We could even set out a display of some of our books on sewing and DIY clothing.”
Mona grinned. There was her dreamer. “We could.” She kissed Liz again. “But, first, why don’t we head home? We can iron out the details over dinner.” She held out her hand to her wife.
Smiling, Liz stood up and took Mona's hand. “Sounds good.”
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