The Guide

Gerald gripped the side rail in the entranceway of the museum, turning his knuckles white and palms red. His tie was too tight, his shoes too big, and his socks rather sweaty. They were probably gaining more strength in stench the longer he shuffled his awkward feet near the guest desk. 

It was opening hour on a Tuesday, so the crowd was rather light so far. He watched as an older couple entered, followed by a group of smartly dressed women who were holding arms with each other and chatting as if it’s been years since they’ve gone out. 

“You’ve got this,” he told himself as he watched them make their way to purchase tickets. He closed his eyes. It was almost VanGogh time. 

Gerald had dreamed of working in the art museum since he visited with his fifth grade class on a field trip years ago. The other children rolled their eyes and huffed in disappointment when they found out where their End of the Year Big Trip was headed. Paulie and James had been sure they were going to the amusement park like the fifth grade had done the year before. They had visions of roller coasters and bumper cars, cotton candy and ice cream. But apparently, the school board decided it was not “educational”, and tabled it for a trip to the art museum instead.  Gerald hid his excitement when it was announced, and feigned disappointment for the sake of his social status. Then, he remembered he had no social status, and smiled. 

Gerald straightened the name badge clipped to his pocket, and straightened himself as the small crowd grew larger. He thought they resembled a bunch of grapes in a still life, their heads an array of sizes in the fruity pale green cluster. The cluster was inching closer, his tie was feeling tighter, and he willed himself to release his sweaty red palms from the slippery silver rail. 

Stepping forward, he smiled and folded his hands in front of him. He felt he looked very official, wearing his suit and even carrying a clipboard and Bic pen. He tapped the pen nervously against the top of it, and pretended to count the number of patrons awaiting their guided tour of the art museum. 

Once it appeared he had everyone’s attention, he cleared his throat and began to speak nervously above the dull hum of their conversations. 

“Hello, good morning, welcome!” he said with a squeak in his voice. 

The crowd smiled back at him, and became quiet, awaiting direction from their distinguished tour guide. 

“We will begin our tour now, if everyone can please follow me through the doors on your left. Stay close together, and please, no food or drink inside the museum for the safety of the precious works of art you are about to experience,” Gerald said, the spirit of the task ahead taking hold and steering his thoughts and words. 

Gerald led the group into the first viewing area, which contained a collection of works by Monet and Manet. He explained the use of color, brush stroke, and allowed the group to chat amongst each other their views on the varied canvases. He listened in and offered his opinions as well, surprised at the ease in which he was able to converse with complete strangers. This was all going better than he thought it would. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, and valued his insight on the works.    

“While Water Lilies is most likely his most famous work, others such as Poplars have been very well received too,” he told them. 

“Let’s move around the room and compare and contrast his use of color, and the overall mood it conveys,” he ventured further. The crowd complied, intrigued with interacting. 

Next, he led them to his favorite area of the museum: VanGogh. He debated saving it for last, but it just didn’t make sense to circle back to it. His eye caught Starry Night, and Sunflowers. He felt a tingle rush through him. He gazed at the paintings, and could barely contain his excitement. He turned to his loyal crowd, and began to tell the life story of VanGogh. A man suffering mental illness, gaining fame for his work only after his death. They listened in complete silence, in awe of his knowledge. They looked at the paintings Gerald described, as he guided them through each one. Finally, after learning about each painting, it was time to move on. 

Gerald finished the tour, each collection becoming easier and easier to explain. When he left his group in the main entrance, they clapped and shook his hand, thanking him for the experience. They had never known there was so much involved in the paintings and artists, and were walking away with a new appreciation. 

Gerald smiled. He had no idea how this would turn out. He’d never guided a tour group before, and felt he did an outstanding job. He set his clipboard and Bic pen down on the desk, and sighed a happy breath. He removed the name badge clipped to his pocket, setting that down on the desk as well. Pretty soon, Frank would be showing up for his afternoon shift and would wonder where his name badge and clipboard had gotten to. Gerald laughed to himself at how easy it was to show up and take a name badge and clipboard from the Employee Sign In table. He’d always wanted to lead a tour at the museum, and today he did it. 

As he walked out the door, he thought about serving coffee at Starbucks. He’d always wanted to try that as well. He made a plan to get up bright and early, head to the Starbucks on the corner, and commandeer a green apron. He always had a “new hire” story ready, just in case. But usually nobody asked too many questions. He didn’t even have to take a name badge the day he “worked” at Lowe’s. Once customers began asking him questions about the best light fixtures, one thing just led to another. Same at the grocery store. Pretty soon, his resume would be full of job experiences, letting his heart be his guide and seeing where the wind would take him.