FROM MORGAN
Becki McHaverford had the boundless energy of a race horse. Her speech was quick--in both pace and wit. She held the trademark air of intelligence mixed with oddity which belongs to those people often labeled by the insecure as "nerds." Although her body never seemed to stop moving--always gesturing wildly or rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet--both the right and left eye were noticeably lazy. As a result, one always struggled to look her in the eyes due to the uncomfortable uncertainty of where she was looking. This regularly resulted in a comical scene in which Becki appeared to berate her listeners with intense and animated speech while her "conversation partners" merely nodded , avoiding eye contact directly. Becki talked incessantly in a manner which, to the first-time beholder, could be easily misjudged as a selfish desire to hear herself jabber. I myself misjudged her in this way during my first encounter with her raw, boisterous energy.
I first came across her sitting in the nurses' station during those few slow hours after 10pm where nurses and patients alike start to settle in for a long, restless night. She was sitting across from Rob - a large, intimidating man with a full beard and dark, heavy-set eyes. I personally had sought to avoid this man Rob all shift, because of his rough nature and deep, unamused voice. I heard Becki rattle off a long, few sentences in quick succession in a voice loud enough to hear, but too fast to comprehend. More faintly, I heard Rob's gruff, short response before Becki cut him short with another few sentences. I casually stepped closer and perched on a chair in the corner of the room to listen in. My curiosity was piqued by the energy with which this newcomer seemed to be "rolling" over Rob in conversation. What could someone like Rob have done to receive this kind of treatment from this new force of nature?
"So, Rob, you see I just go to the website at exactly 11:50pm. Are you listening to me, Rob? And then I click on the store. Okay? I click on the store and I choose which ones I want to buy. Are you following me, Rob? And then, Rob, I find exactly what I want to buy and I write down all of their serial codes and there market number and put them next to little pictures I print out so I can memorize what they look like. Do you understand me, Rob? Then at exactly 11:59pm, I clicked refresh again and again and again until the items are up for the sale. When the items are up for sale I use those pictures which I memorized--Rob, remember that? You have to memorize them, Rob--I use my memory to click on the ones I like as fast as humanly possible. It's like muscle memory, do you hear me, Rob? Rob, I'm just programed to do it now."
Rob nodded slowly again and managed two words: "Then what" before Becki lunged ahead in conversation.
"Well, Rob, I buy them right then and there. And it's just so easy if you know what you're doing, Rob. Then I put them up on that Facebook group I was telling you about and these people will buy them for twice what I paid for them. These people are crazy, Rob. Rob, I cannot stress to you how crazy these people are."
Rob started to shake his head in wonderment. Becki noticed immediately and cut off the movement just as if Rob had spoken words.
"Oh I know, I know, I know, Rob. It seems impossible, Rob. But it's the truth. I've been doing it a whole year and I've made over 2 grand doing this. You really just have to try it, Rob, really you do. I'll show you which ones are the best ones to buy. You'll have the inside scoop because I already know what everyone wants. I already know, Rob. I know the best ones, and the worst ones, and the cheap ones, and I will tell you everything, Rob, because it's a great opportunity and I want you to try it."
A new expression had appeared on Rob's face which I had never witnessed before. One of intense interest and extreme earnest.
He said simply, "Show me."
Becki needed no further bidding. She let out an excited squawk of sorts and prattled on in excitement while promptly pulling up the website she was referring to. I leaned in closer to see what items could have possibly interested Rob - the stone-faced giant. Becki carried on, her energy reaching new levels.
"Now, Rob, I want you to buy the Blue Bubble. This one is the best one for you to try to buy first. It's very safe, Rob. It's very safe, and it's very popular. So people will buy it, Rob. Okay? You can also get the Pink Bubble, but it's not as popular. Alright? It's not as popular because there's a little bow in the back which people don't like as much. I know all of this, Rob. Rob, do you understand I have been doing this for awhile? You just have to listen to what I'm telling you and do exactly like I say. Does that sound good to you, Rob?"
I leaned in closer to peer at the screen. To my astonishment, I found myself staring at a website for toddler designer dresses. The Blue Bubble was a particularly extravagant, lace-adorned, sappy blue gown which would have made Cinderella jealous. I turned my attention to Rob. His eyes were locked on the Blue Bubble seeming to bask in the tiny dress' splendor.
Becki, seeing she had triumphed in winning over Rob to join her in "flipping" toddler dresses, continued her rant unabated for several more hours. She spoke of polls, of pricing, of timing for purchases of certain dresses, of underhanded deals. It was a brand-new world of toddler dress flipping which I never knew existed. And I sat through the whole one-sided conversation, just as entranced as Rob.
Towards the end of the ordeal, Becki finally sat back and with a satisfied expression on her face, let out a sigh.
"You know what I like the best out of this, Rob? Do you know what I do with the money, Rob? The money, Rob. What do you think I do with it? I'll just tell you, because you'll never guess. You'll just never guess it. I go out and I buy the most expensive, prettiest, most beautiful princess gowns I can find and I give them to my two little princesses at home. Rob, and with the rest, my husband and I treat ourselves to a very nice Scandinavian delicatessen every week. And he loves it, because I'm not wasting money. And he loves Scandinavian delicatessens. And I love him and my daughters more than anything, Rob. So it really does make me excited, I can't even describe. And I want you to be a part of it, Rob."
CRITIQUE
I like it. It could use a little tightening, but I saw two things that might make this a better piece. First, you say the woman gestures all the time, but there are zero gestures described in the piece. Second, the ending just kinda leaves you hanging in mid-air. You should have a better conclusion. Here's my re-write with those things addressed, but you need to write it in your own words. This is your portrait of this woman.
Becki McHaverford held that peculiar mixture of intelligence and oddity belonging to those often labeled "nerds", but she exuded boundless energy. She never seemed to stop moving--always gesturing wildly or rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. Her speech was quick in both pace and wit, but both her eyes were noticeably lazy, which made eye contact a challenge. Most who “conversed” with Becki avoided direct eye contact and nodded silently as they steeled themselves for a barrage of rapid-fire speech punctuated with animated gesticulation.
I first came across her sitting in the nurses' station during those few slow hours after 10 p.m., where nurses and patients alike start to settle in for a long, restless night. She sat across from Rob - a large, daunting man with a full beard and dark, heavy-set eyes. I personally sought to avoid this man all shift, because of his rough nature and deep, intimidating voice. I heard Becki’s machine-gun banter in a voice loud enough to hear, but too fast to comprehend. More faintly, I heard Rob's gruff response before Becki cut him short with another burst. I casually stepped closer and perched on a chair in the corner of the room to listen in. My curiosity was piqued by how this newcomer conversationally steamrolled this colossal man. What did he do to earn this turbo-charged onslaught?
"So, Rob, you see, I just go to the website at exactly 11:50 p.m.,” she said, tapping her watch with a finger. “Are you listening to me, Rob? And then I click on the store. Okay? I click on the store and I choose which ones I want to buy.” She pantomimed paying someone money. “Are you following me, Rob? And then, Rob, I find exactly what I want to buy and I write down all of their serial codes and their market number…” writing on an imaginary notebook, “…and put them next to little pictures I print out so I can memorize what they look like.” She tapped her temple with a finger. “Do you understand me, Rob? Then at exactly 11:59 p.m.,” tapping her watch again, “I click refresh again and again and again,” clicking an imaginary mouse with each “again”, “until the items are up for the sale. When the items are up for sale I use those pictures which I memorized--Rob, remember that?” she said, pointing to her head again. “You have to memorize them, Rob--I use my memory to click on the ones I like as fast as humanly possible.” Her index finger waggled up and down spasmodically. “It's like muscle memory, do you hear me, Rob? Rob, I'm just programmed to do it now." She pointed her index fingers to each side of her head.
Rob nodded slowly, and managed, "Then what?"
"Well, Rob, I buy them right then and there. And it's just so easy if you know what you're doing, Rob,” she said with a sweep of her hand. “Then I put them up on that Facebook group I was telling you about and these people will buy them for twice what I paid for them.” She waved two fingers in front of Rob’s face. “These people are crazy, Rob. Rob, I cannot stress to you how crazy these people are,” she said, circling a finger around an ear.
Rob shook his head in wonderment, but Becki placed her hand on his shoulder to interrupt the movement.
"Oh I know, I know, I know, Rob. It seems impossible, Rob. But it's the truth. I've been doing it a whole year, and I've made over two grand doing this.” She jumped a little and waved two fingers in front of his face again. “You really just have to try it, Rob, really you do. I'll show you which ones are the best ones to buy. You'll have the inside scoop because I already know what everyone wants,” she said tapping her temple and nodding. “I already know, Rob. I know the best ones, and the worst ones, and the cheap ones, and I will tell you everything, Rob, because it's a great opportunity and I want you to try it."
A new expression of intense interest and earnest began to creep over Rob's stoic face, and he said, "Show me."
Becki the dynamo sort of squawked in excitement and promptly pulled up the website on the computer as her conversational impeller whirred. I leaned in closer to see what items could possibly interest Rob the stone-faced giant.
"Now, Rob, I want you to buy the Blue Bubble,” she said, stabbing a finger at the screen. “This one is the best one for you to try to buy first. It's very safe, Rob. It's very safe, and it's very popular. So people will buy it, Rob. Okay? You can also get the Pink Bubble, but it's not as popular. Alright? It's not as popular because there's a little bow in the back which people don't like as much.” She tied an imaginary bow, then tapped her temple again. “I know all of this, Rob. Rob, do you understand I have been doing this for a while? You just have to listen to what I'm telling you and do exactly like I say. Does that sound good to you, Rob?"
I leaned in closer. To my astonishment, the website displayed toddler designer dresses. The Blue Bubble was a particularly extravagant lacey blue gown that would kindle envy in Cinderella. I glanced furtively at Rob. His eyes were locked on the Blue Bubble, basking in its splendor.
Becki spent the next few hours shepherding her new convert. She spoke of polls and pricing, of timing for purchases of certain dresses, of underhanded deals. It was a brave new world of toddler dress flipping, and I sat through the whole one-sided conversation just as entranced as Rob.
As she prepared to step down from the soapbox, Becki sat back and sighed with satisfaction.
"You know what I like the best out of this, Rob? Do you know what I do with the money, Rob?” she asked, fingering imaginary bills. “The money, Rob. What do you think I do with it? I'll just tell you, because you'll never guess. You'll just never guess it.” She lightly slapped him on the shoulder. “I go out, and I buy the most expensive, prettiest, most beautiful princess gowns I can find and I give them to my two little princesses at home.” She pantomimed giving a present with each hand to two children. “Rob, and with the rest, my husband and I treat ourselves to a very nice Scandinavian delicatessen every week.” She took a bite out of an imaginary sandwich. ”And he loves it, because I'm not wasting money. And he loves Scandinavian delicatessens.” She hugged herself. “And I love him and my daughters more than anything, Rob.” She hugged her self again. “So it really does make me excited, I can't even describe. And I want you to be a part of it, Rob."
All I could do was marvel at the power that convinced Grizzly Adams to flip designer dresses for little girls.