You can tell more about a man by looking into his fridge than looking into his eyes. “You must be joking.” “No, Polly. We take it very seriously. And ever since we started eRefrigerators.com, we have lived by that motto.” “It is a mouthful. Is that how I have to answer the phone?” “No, silly. ‘eFridge.com’ will suffice. However, I want you starting on the floor – selling. We have a receptionist who handles phones, except when she’s at lunch. Listen, I have a meeting with my attorney about opening another brick and mortar. We’re thinking about Kenosha. I’ll be back this afternoon. Until then, watch the floor. Okay?” “Sure.” Polly wondered what she had gotten herself into. She never had a sales job before. When she answered this Craigslist ad, she thought she would be doing computer science stuff. That’s why she spent the last 4 years of evenings going to DeVry, getting a certificate in information technology. Tired of slinging hash at Carl’s, she wanted something better. Now she’s apparently slinging ice chests. Her bills won’t wait for the perfect job, though. “Hello? Are you open?” “Hi. Come on in. Looking for a ‘fridge?” “Um, yes. This is a refrigerator store, isn’t it?” “Yes. Sorry. We just opened a few days ago. See the banner? Our models are over here.” You can tell more about a man by looking into his fridge than looking into his eyes. “Nice. Do you have to say that when you answer the phone?” “God no. I would have quit if that’s the case. I’m Polly.” “Okay Polly. I’m Robert, and I’m looking for something cheap. I just moved into an apartment in Logan Square that has no fridge and I need something to hold my experiments.” “Experiments?” “Assignments, actually. I’m a culinary student at Kendall College.” “Ah.” Handsome guy. Pursuing the culinary arts. Interesting. Living in Logan Square as a student. Very bohemian. Appropriate student-like attire. Dark, rigid blue jeans, flannel shirt, scruffy hair and a worn messenger bag slung across his body. “This is pretty much the basic model. The XP-300, and yes that IS its name, only comes in white. No water dispenser in the front, no automatic ice maker. But it’s reliable and it has a three year warranty.” “How much?” “For you? $475.00.” “For me? Awww, that’s sweet. But seriously, do you have anything cheaper?” “There are some dorm room refrigerators over there in the corner, but they’re not what you’re looking for.” “How so?” “Come on, your experiments are important to you, yes? Although you don’t need bells and whistles, you do need consistent and reliable temperature settings. And you need space – lots of it. Not only for your work, but also for leftovers from Abril.” “Right on. I love that place and I can walk there. They have the best queso fundido in town.” “Heart attack in a bowl I call it, but yes, they do.” Robert couldn't ignore her coy smile. Dimples don’t hurt a bit. I do so like brunettes. And pigtails. Yummy. And she apparently knows her cheese. “Alright. I’ll take that one you showed me. What was its name again?” “The XP-300. A fine choice, sir.” “Why thank you. Do you take checks?” “With a drivers license, yes.” As he dove into his bag searching for his checkbook, Polly wondered what else was inside. She’s always been particular to bags. Some might say it was at fetish levels. She found them on eBay at decent prices, which is what she always told someone who questioned her bag prowess. “How about meeting me at Abril’s this weekend?” Wow! That was unexpected, but not unwelcome. He’s a cute boy. Friendly, pursuing a worthwhile endeavor. And he digs queso fundido. “What’s in your bag?” “What?” “Your bag. What’s in it?” The big, heavy front flap folded backwards as Robert plucked out a few items one-by-one. “My Moleskine datebook, which is part datebook, part address book, part diary. I don't know what I'd do if I lost it. My iPod, of course, on which I’ve replaced the stock earbuds with something better and not white. My checkbook. Hatless Jack by Neil Steinberg. And a cheese sandwich I made this morning with Red Hen Bakery bread, great Dijon mustard I picked up at the farmer’s market in Daley Plaza last week, cucumbers thinly sliced on the bottom, and three slices of French Emmental.” Polly paused. Her heart fluttered. “How about Saturday?”
