At The Deli Counter

At The Deli Counter

By

Leo de Natale

          There I was, waiting to order my half-pound of home cooked turkey and six slices of liverwurst – my normal fare for lunchtime sandwiches–  and there he was.

The customer to my right had placed his gargantuan order: one pound of sliced ham, two pounds of provolone cheese, one pound of chipotle-flavored roast beef and one pound of imported Swiss cheese.

The man stood about 5’5” and, given his deli order, predictably portly. He was fortyish and dressed in black. His hands were soft and pudgy but too small to be considered hamhocks. My eyes gravitated to his head. His bald, bull-necked head was cleanshaven but hidden by the obligatory baseball cap. Adorning his left ear lobe was a small gold hoop earring. Adjoining the hoop was a small gold stud. He turned and I noticed the right lobe was asymmetric—only one gold stud was visible. At least he wasn’t wearing a pinky ring or any hand jewelry. Clearly, this man was one of many middle-aged men who are trying to make a fashion statement. At about 225 lbs. and experiencing presumed male menopause is a difficult task. I once saw a man at the local emergency room who was similar in age but had a fuzzy flat top hairdo. His hair was completely gray. He was wearing dual diamond stud earrings. His eyeglasses were thick and the kicker was he was also wearing dual hearing aids. In both cases I said to myself what’s wrong with this picture?

The piece de resistance, however, was deli-man’s facial hair. Beside the wizened gray mustache, was a billy-goat gruff beard that ended at mid-chest. Every time he moved his head, the beard would sway side-to-side.

          My, my, my, what a real stud. I knew this because in the nearly filled shopping cart, Billy was purchasing a dozen multi-colored tulips.  How romantic.   Charm her with flowers and cured meats and imported cheese.

Men such as Billy are common and predictable. An optometrist friend told me about a biker and new patient whose first comment was “I can’t see for shit.” Translation: I’m in my forties and seeing up close (presbyopia) was difficult and would require reading glasses. As the patient was leaving he told my friend he had to leave for home because “I’m gonna be getting some skin from my old lady”. I have a feeling that gentleman was never taught the King’s English.

Anyway, there was only one deli person on duty and I witnessed the prodigious amount of food being stacked into Billy’s shopping cart. Ten or fifteen minutes passed before he waddled away from the deli.  All I could do was shake my head in disbelief.  Enjoy the tulips, honey.