Fannie Flagg - I Still Dream About You

After a few weeks of looking, she was on the verge of taking a low-paying, somewhat humiliating job as hospitality director for the downtown Sheraton Hotel. Her duties would mostly consist of greeting people, handing out city maps to conventioneers, making hair appointments for their wives, and arranging shopping tours and visits to the Civil Rights Institute and the statue of Vulcan. But fate stepped in and saved her at the last minute.

THE MORNING OF her job interview at the hotel, Maggie was walking through the lobby on her way out the door when she heard a familiar voice.

“Maggie! Maggie Fortenberry… Hey, Miss Alabama!”

She looked around, but there was no one there. Then, from below, she heard a woman’s voice: “Maggie! It’s Hazel… Hazel Whisenknott.” Maggie looked down and saw Hazel beaming up at her.

“Do you remember me? You used to come to my house for fittings with your mother when you were a little girl.”

Maggie knew who she was immediately (how many three-foot-four people do you meet in a lifetime?) and said, “Of course I remember you. How are you?”

“Great, fantastic, couldn’t be better. How are you?”

“Just fine, thank you,” she lied.

“You look fabulous, as always. I read that you’re living in Dallas now?”

“Well, yes, I was, but I’m home for a while; Mother is not in great health.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. She was always such a sweet lady. I still have that Easter bunny costume she measured me for-do you remember that? With the big ears that stand up?”

Maggie laughed. “Oh yes, I spent hours helping her insert the pipe cleaners so they would stand up, and I helped her sew the cotton balls together for the tail.”

“You did a good job; I still wear it.”

Hazel cocked her head and looked up at Maggie. “Listen, doll, what are you doing right now? Can I buy you a drink? A cup of coffee? I’d love to catch up with you.”

Maggie looked at her watch; she had plenty of time before she had to be home. “Well sure, I’d be happy to.”

Hazel talked a mile a minute as they rode the elevator up to the restaurant on the top floor, telling her about all the things that were happening and how Birmingham was on its way to a big comeback and that a lot of the old companies that had left in the sixties were now coming back, and new companies were moving in. When they got upstairs, of course the maître d’ knew Hazel and seated them right away.

After they ordered coffee, Hazel said, “I just finished doing a breakfast speech for the Lions Club. What are you doing at the hotel? Are you staying here?”

“Oh, no. I was here for a meeting.”

Hazel looked at her quizzically. “Ahhh… a meeting.”

Even though she was embarrassed, Maggie felt compelled to explain why she’d been in the lobby of the hotel. She didn’t want Hazel to think she was a call girl or something. “Well, they’re looking for a hospitality director and wanted to talk to me about it, so I met with them.”

“I see. So you might be home to stay for good?”

“Well… I’m not sure yet, but I thought while I was here, maybe I’d look around for a little something to do…”

Hazel’s eyes widened in surprise. “You mean a job?”

“Well. Yes. Maybe…”

Hazel slapped her tiny little hands together. “OOOOH booooy, when I found that penny this morning, I just knew this was going to be my lucky day.” She called out to the waiter, “Hey, Billy, forget the coffee-bring us two martinis,” and then she turned to Maggie with a new gleam in her eye.

“Honey,” she said, pointing her tiny little finger at Maggie, “I’ve been searching for someone exactly like you. I need a gal with looks, class, and style to head up my Mountain Brook office, someone who knows the territory, understands the upscale market, and you would be my dream come true. Forget what they offered you here. With me, you can double it. No, triple it. What do you say?”

Maggie had to laugh. “Oh, thank you, Hazel, you’re very sweet, but I don’t know a thing about real estate.”

Hazel looked surprised. “What is there to know?”

“Well, a lot. I wouldn’t have a clue about how to draw up a contract, for instance.”

“So what? Real estate is more than contracts; it’s instinct, it’s emotion, it’s presentation, and with your looks and background, you would be a natural.”

“Well, thank you, but you don’t understand; I’m really not very smart about details and things.”

“Now look, baby doll, you let me worry about the details. I have sharp gals working for me who can handle details; all you have to do is look pretty and deal with people. I know you’re good at that. What do you say?”

“Well, I’d have to think about it. I’ve never done anything like that before, and I wouldn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Disappoint me? How could you? There’s no way you can make a mistake. Oh come on, don’t break my heart, say yes.”

“But what if you’re wrong about me?”

Hazel threw her head back and laughed. “Me? Wrong? Oh honey, I’m never wrong. Trust me, you’ll love it… it’s the best business in the world.”

The waiter brought the drinks, and Hazel said, “Thanks, Billy.”

“Hazel, I’m really very flattered, but I don’t know how to sell houses.”

“Okay. Let me ask you this: Are you nosy?”

“Nosy?”

“Yes. When you drive by a house, are you just dying to get inside and see what’s there?”

Maggie thought about it. “Well yes, I guess I am curious about seeing how people have decorated.”

“I knew it! I have instincts. I took one look at you today and said to myself, ‘Now, that’s a real estate woman if I ever saw one.’ But not just any run-of-the-mill everyday real estate agent. You’re a Miss Alabama!”

Maggie hesitated. “Well, I wouldn’t want to trade on… that.”

Hazel’s little eyes flew open. “Why not? It’s a terrific advantage. Listen, honey, in this life, where we get so few advantages, particularly women, if you have something that can get you in the door, use it. It’s what happens after you get in that’s important, and using what God gave you to your advantage is nothing to be ashamed of. Look at me: when I was a little girl”-she laughed-“well, littler than I am now, I said to myself, ‘Hazel, the doctor says you’re never going to grow taller than three foot four, so you have two choices: one, you can feel sorry for yourself or two, you can use it to your advantage.’ So, I did.” She took a sip of her martini. “I noticed from an early age that people were curious about me. Why? Because I was not your run-of-the-mill person. Once they met me, they never forgot me.”

“Well, Hazel,” Maggie said, “you are hard to forget.”

“That’s right! I’m different. And that’s our calling card, doll. We both have something of interest about us: Hazel Whisenknott, cute midget. Margaret Fortenberry, beautiful ex-Miss Alabama…”

“I hadn’t thought about it that way. But still…”

Hazel leaned in. “Listen, Maggie, I understand you have a certain standard to live up to; you can’t just take any job. You need it to be a high-level prestige position, and with me, you would be starting at the very top, dealing with only the best clientele. And if you come work for me, I will guarantee you’ll never be sorry.” Hazel looked at her watch. “What are you doing now?”

“Right now? Well, nothing, I guess.”

“Good. I want you to come downstairs with me. I have to do another speech, for the Women in Real Estate luncheon, and then we’ll talk some more. I’m not letting you get away from me, young lady, until you say yes.”

The enthusiasm in this little teeny woman was amazing, and Maggie found herself getting up and following Hazel right back into the elevator like a large dog trailing after the Pied Piper. She had been forced to make so many decisions lately. It was a relief to just let someone take charge and tell her what to do next. Hazel had already plied her with liquor before noon, and Maggie thought it was a good thing Hazel wasn’t a man. With her powers of persuasion, she probably would have been pregnant by now.