Save Karyn

by Karyn Bosnak

  Now, I may be a Bloomingdale’s girl when it comes to clothing, but I have always been a Barneys girl when it comes to makeup and perfume. Bloomingdale’s has a bigger clothing selection and it’s a bit more affordable than Barneys. They also have some good necklaces and stuff for under $100. It’s more “user-friendly,” as I like to say. But I hate the perfume that they carry. All department store perfumes are too “perfumey” for me. They all smell too much alike and smell too much like alcohol. And most department stores don’t carry any really cool new makeup lines, just the standard Prescriptives and MAC and stuff.

  But places like Barneys carry the best perfumes and makeup. So does Henri Bendel. Chicago used to have a Henri Bendel, and Naomi and I would go every weekend and spend hours in the makeup department. We’d try on lip gloss and sparkles, and have our eyes done. It was so fun! But then one Christmas it closed down. We were so sad. It was truly the end of an era. That’s when we discovered the Chicago Barneys. And I ended up moving right across the street from it, and lived there until I moved to New York.

  Anywho, I crossed the street and went inside. It was just as I suspected! Bigger and better than its Chicago counterpart! The whole first floor was filled with makeup and purses. Near the back I found some nice body lotion called Lychee from a company called Fresh. It smelled so glorious! And it was in a glass bottle. How classy! It was $28, but so worth it! I wouldn’t have to wear perfume with it. And what man wouldn’t want me while wearing this lotion? I smelled like candy! I wanted to eat my arm off!

  About an hour later, I emerged from Barneys with only my lotion in hand. I was so proud of myself for not buying anything else. I was so exhausted that I decided to head home. I went down Fifth Avenue toward 57th Street so I could walk along the park. A few blocks down I passed the Plaza Hotel. It had big flags billowing from it as well, just like Bloomingdale’s. New York was so fancy! And I was too in my new sunglasses.

  I passed Bergdorf Goodman, but did not go in. I’d have to save that one for a special day. I was just too tired. While waiting on the corner, I noticed that Henri Bendel was just one block down Fifth Avenue as well. Bloomingdale’s, Barneys, Bergdorf, Bendel—the four Bs of New York. And I couldn’t help but think I belonged here, seeing that my last name was Bosnak. I was the fifth B.

  THAT NIGHT I WENT HOME and met Ann Marie and another coworker named Jodi out for dinner at a place called China Grill. Jodi was the senior producer at Curtis Court and she was so nice! I wore my new Rebecca Taylor top. This is what life is like in New York, I thought. Good people, good clothes, good food, and good times. I needed some money, so I charged the whole dinner and both Ann Marie and Jodi paid me cash.

  That night when I got home, I pulled out my Zagat guide, circled China Grill, and wrote, “Some coworkers, Rebecca Taylor, and me—the Fifth B.”

  FOUR

  GRAND DEBT TALLY $5,007.00

  THE WORKOUT CLOTHES

  So let me get this straight,” I said to the male litigant on the phone. “Your ex-girlfriend is suing you because she thinks you caused a tumor that’s on her head?”

  “That’s right. She says it happened when I dropped her on her head while dancing a few years ago. You could say she do-sied when she should have doed,” he said with a thick Minnesota accent. He was in his fifties.

  “Well, like I said, we’d love to hear your case at Curtis Court. And your ex-girlfriend, the plaintiff, already agreed to come here, so it’s up to you. Once again, if you lose we will pay her the monetary settlement that she’s awarded, and if you win—well, you win. Also, she will sign papers saying that she won’t appeal the verdict, so she can never take you back to court again for this matter.”

  “Well, then I’m game too. That woman’s a nut, I tell ya! Falls don’t cause tumors. I was even really nice after it happened, and put a steak on her head and everything,” he said.

  “A steak? Huh. Well, you can explain all of that to the judge when you get here,” I said.

  “I will,” he said. “I have to go to work now, so why don’t you call me later and we can go over the details. I should be home around five.”

  “Sounds good,” I said. “I’ll call you then. Bye.”

  “Bye,” he said as he hung up the phone.

  A steak on the head. I wondered if he really did that. I only thought people did that in cartoons. And in Rocky. I think someone did it in Rocky too.

  As I leaned back in my chair and thought about steaks on heads, I caught a glimpse of my new Nike gym bag underneath my desk. I had my first big training session with Sam after work and was pumped up! Especially after all I went through buying workout gear.

  That past Sunday I realized that I still hadn’t bought the workout clothes that I set out to buy on Saturday, so I went back out in search of some goods. And I ended up right back at Bloomingdale’s, but this time in the active wear department. I bought some shirts, pants and a sports bra, which came to about $300. It was more than I wanted to spend, but it was an investment in my health! Well, that and I wanted to fit in with the other girls at Crunch.

  But on my way home from Bloomingdale’s, I decided to check out Niketown just in case they had cooler stuff. And you know what? They did! I mean, sure I’d fit in just fine at Crunch with my Bloomingdale’s clothes. But with my Nike clothes, the other girls would want to fit in with me. So I decided to buy my workout clothes there (and even got a pair of shoes to match) and took the other ones back to Bloomingdale’s on my way home.

  After daydreaming about myself walking through Crunch in my new clothes and my new shoes, I didn’t feel like going back to work. So I decided to get some personal stuff done and make a few phone calls. The first thing I did was call the bank to find out if my rent check had cleared yet. I had deposited my paycheck the previous Thursday, but waited until Monday to mail my rent check off in order to give it time to clear. I didn’t want a repeat of last month. After pushing a few buttons and finally getting a live person on the phone, I was relieved to find out that my rent check hadn’t gone through yet, but the funds from my paycheck were fully available. So I was in the clear!

  My thoughts then shifted to my American Express bill. I knew a payment was due any day, but I didn’t know exactly when or how much it was. So I called the phone number on the back of my card and again pushed a few buttons until I got a live person on the phone. I just hate those automated services.

  “American Express,” a woman said.

  “Hi,” I said, “I’d like to know when the payment is due on my account, please, and how much it is that I should be paying you.”

  “Can I have your account number?” she asked.

  “Sure,” I said, reading it to her from my card. The woman looked up my account and then asked me my mother’s maiden name and my social security number and all the other things they ask you for “your protection.” And after a few seconds she spoke.

  “Payment is not due until next Thursday and it looks like you owe $2,552—no, wait…. You had a credit come through, so you only owe $2,228,” she said.

  “What do you mean a credit?” I asked with excitement. Was someone else paying my bill for me? How cool would that be?

  “You had a credit issued from Bloomingdale’s for $324,” she answered.

  “Oh,” I said with disappointment. No one was paying my bill for me. “I bought something Saturday and returned it on Sunday,” I said. “Why is the credit on this bill though? I thought it would be on the next bill since I already got this month’s statement in the mail.”

  “No, American Express always applies credits to the current amount due. The $324 charge from when you bought the clothes will appear on your next statement though,” she said.

  “Oh, okay,” I said.

  “Anything else I can help you with?” she asked.

  “Um, no,” I answered. I then started thinking. “Wait, yes. So if I bought something for $100 tomorrow and then returned it the next day, the credit would be applied immediately and I’d o
nly owe $2,128 on Thursday, and the $100 charge would be applied to next month’s statement?”

  “Yes,” she said with a laugh, aware of the fact that I just figured out a way to lower my current payment due, “that’s exactly what would happen.”

  “Oh, okay. I’m not saying that I’ll do that or anything, I was just wondering,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Thanks for all your help.”

  “You are welcome,” she said.

  No freaking way! I wondered if that would really work? I owed $2,200 to American Express and there was no way that I could pay it all by next Thursday. I could actually only afford to send them about $1,400 or so, which would leave me owing $800. But according to this lady on the phone, if I bought and returned $800 worth of stuff by next Thursday, in addition to making my $1,400 payment, then I’d be all caught up! The $800 credit would be applied to the current bill, and the charge would be applied to next month’s bill. The buying and returning wouldn’t affect my overall balance at all. It would just buy me more time to pay up to American Express! Kick butt!

  I had to try this to see if it would work. But I’d have to pick a place that would give me a refund if I returned something. Not one of those “store credit only” kind of stores. Department stores always gave refunds. So did places like the Gap. But I’d get more bang for my buck at a place like Bloomingdale’s. I could buy fewer more expensive items there than at a place like the Gap. So Bloomingdale’s it was! I decided to go over the weekend.

  I went back to work and before I knew it, it was the end of the day. It was time for my trainer! I turned off my computer and got ready to go. I grabbed my gym bag and headed out the door. Gwen was lurking nearby.

  “Where are you going?” she asked, looking at my gym bag.

  “To see my personal trainer,” I said proudly. Ha. I had a personal trainer. I felt so cool saying it.

  “You have a personal trainer?” she asked with skepticism.

  “Yes. Well, I mean it’s my first time going tonight, but I do,” I replied.

  “Isn’t that expensive?” she asked.

  “No more expensive than taking a cab to work every day,” I answered.

  “Oh,” she said with a puzzled look on her face. She had no clue what my last comment meant. I was right, she did forget about our conversation about my blisters.

  “Well, I gotta run,” I said. “Bye.”

  “Bye,” she said. “Have fun.”

  THE PERSONAL TRAINER

  After a short bus ride and a fast walk, I arrived at Crunch. I walked down the long spiral staircase, checked in at the front desk, and went to the locker room to change. Five minutes later I emerged looking fabulous in my white Nike T-shirt with green and blue trim on the sleeves, and tight blue Nike workout pants that flared at the ankle. My silver-and-blue gym shoes topped off the outfit and were so new and pretty! I walked over to the personal training desk and checked in.

  “Hi, I’m here to see Sam,” I said to the woman standing behind the counter.

  “What’s your name?” she asked.

  “Karyn,” I answered.

  “Sam,” she said over the loudspeaker, “Karyn is here.” She then motioned for me to have a seat on a nearby bench. I sat down and waited. I hoped this Sam was as cute as he sounded on the phone. A few minutes later, a short guy with light brown hair approached me with a smile on his face.

  “Karyn?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I said, standing up, “hi.”

  “I’m Sam,” he said, extending his hand, “nice to meet you.”

  “It’s nice to meet you too,” I said, shaking it.

  Sam was cute! Not really my type, but cute! He was a bit too short and beefy for me, and had some facial hair, which I’m not a fan of, but all in all, I’d say he was cute. I decided that I’d put him in the running too to be my New York boyfriend. I had to stop being so picky and had to start giving every eligible man a chance. You just never know with these things.

  I followed Sam downstairs to another level of the gym, where I had not yet gone. Most of the free weights and “boy machines” were on this floor. When I usually go to the gym, I run on the treadmill, do the elliptical machine, or ride the stationary bike. I rarely use the machines. But when I do use the machines, I use the “girl machines.” The girl machines are the pretty ones that are easy to use with the pin that you stick in the weight. The boy machines are the ones that don’t have the pins, the ones that you have to actually put the weights on yourself. Those were too difficult for me to figure out, so I always stayed away. But Sam was all about the boy machines.

  Before we started working out, he asked me what my fitness goal was.

  “Well, my main concern is my butt,” I said, “it’s just too big and not toned. I’d like to fix it up.”

  “Fix it up?” he asked, laughing. “What is it, a car?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Well, no, it’s not a car, but yes, I want to fix it up. You know, make it look good, lift it in the air.”

  “I’m just kidding. I know what you mean. And today is your lucky day, my lady, because I’m a butt man,” he said, laughing. “I always have been. So every time I get a female client, I work on their butt the most. I might do it for selfish reasons, but I haven’t had any complaints yet.”

  “Cool,” I said. “So then let’s get to it.”

  “Yes, let’s get to it,” he replied.

  For the next hour, Sam gave me the workout of my life. Like I said earlier, I’m not really a “gymsy” kind of girl either. He put heavy weights on a bar and made me lift it up and down. He made me hold weights in my hands and do lunges across the room. I even did some boy machines. And he kept calling me “my lady.”

  “Come with me this way, my lady,” he’d say. And I kind of liked it. It made me feel special.

  Toward the end of the workout, Sam started telling me what to expect if I hired him as my trainer. He started talking about building muscle and burning fat, and increasing metabolism and all sorts of things that were just plain boring. I zoned him out when I caught a glimpse of my new outfit in the mirror. Damn, I was stylin’! I looked good! I wondered if Sam liked my outfit. Come to think of it, he hadn’t even commented on it.

  “So, like I was saying,” he said, “I could completely transform your butt in ten weeks.”

  “Huh,” I said, tuning him back in. Now he was speaking my language. “Ten weeks? Really?”

  “Yes. But you’d have to come see me twice a week,” he answered.

  “Twice a week?” I asked. “How much is it?”

  “It’s ninety dollars a pop,” he said.

  Wow! That’s expensive! I started doing the math. If I saw him twice a week for ten weeks, that would be $1,800. I didn’t have that kind of money. But I knew that I’d never be able to do all the exercises by myself that he made me do that day. And I did just discover my new buy-and-return trick. And he was a butt man, after all. What better person to have me work on my butt than a butt man? I looked at Sam and then at my butt.

  “Okay, I’ll do it,” I said impulsively. “Do I have to pay for it all at once?” I asked.

  “No. You can split it up and pay for ten sessions now, and ten sessions later,” he said.

  “Cool,” I said.

  My workout soon wrapped up and Sam and I walked over to the personal training desk. The woman behind the counter wrote up a sales slip for my ten personal training sessions. The total was $900. I handed over my American Express card to pay.

  Sam and I agreed that he’d see me every Monday and Wednesday night at 8 P.M. I bid him farewell and headed back to the locker room. I was too tired to shower or change, so I just grabbed my bag and headed home. I felt really nauseous, which Sam said was normal and would go away.

  As I wobbled down the street toward my apartment building, I passed the Mr. Chow restaurant. Every time I walked by Mr. Chow, fancy cars and limousines were always parked outside. I would always wonder what famous person was inside eating dinner. And then t
he next day in the New York Post I would read it was Puff Daddy or some other big star. It was kind of exciting.

  But tonight I wouldn’t have to guess, because at the same time that I was passing the front entrance, the back door of a black limousine opened. One man got out, and then turned around to help another man out. When I looked to see who it was, my eyes lit up. It was Stevie Wonder! I was so excited! I just love that Stevie Wonder! I just wanted to belt out my very own Stevie Wonder musical medley…“Very superstitious! (snap! snap! snap!) Writings on the wall! (snap! snap! snap!) Isn’t (clap!) she luuuuu (clap!) vly? (clap! clap!) Isn’t (clap!) she wonnn (clap!) derr (clap!) ful? (clap!)” But I didn’t.

  I looked down at my sweaty gym clothes and was embarrassed because I looked a mess! I sure was glad Stevie was blind! I stopped to let him walk in front of me and then not thinking, I waved at him. My excitement took over! The guy who was helping him just looked at me and laughed, but I didn’t care. Because I just saw Stevie Wonder, but he didn’t see me!

  When I got home, I looked through my CDs for some Stevie Wonder and was disappointed to realize that I didn’t have any. I’d have to make a note to buy some next time I was out. I took off my workout clothes and headed toward the shower. On my way there, I stopped to look at my naked body in the mirror. “Ten weeks to a new you!” I said to my bare butt. It didn’t respond.

  THE PET STORE GUY

  The next morning I woke up and couldn’t move. I was so sore from my workout that I could barely get out of bed. I sat up slowly and leaned forward and tried to stretch my head to my knees. Ouch! My legs ached!