Vietnam Vet and the Irish Setter

About a week ago, I was in the photo-lab working the night shift by myself. It was a slow night, as most nights have been recently. It just doesn't seem like picture processing is on the top of people's list of important things to do, anymore.

Around 7 o'clock, I see a skinny, haggard, 50-something male walk up to the counter. In his hand, a strip of four 35mm negatives. I greeted him with the usual "Hi sir, how are you today?" tone I greet most customers with. His response was a simple, yet slightly sullen "okay."

He proceeded to ask me if I could make a reprint for him, and pointed to the actual negative he wanted made. I took a look at the negative and immediately noticed an immense amount of dust, dirt, and what can be best described as "gunk" on the negative in question. I told him it was kind of dirty, and paused for a second to observe his reaction. His response can best be described as that of a child who wanted nothing more than to get that really kick-ass present for Christmas, but when the morning came, it wasn't there. My heart dropped as I was looking him over. His eyes were on the counter, staring at the negative. On the negative, a clear image of a dog. Though my observation of his behavior lasted no more than 2 or 3 seconds, I gathered a lengthy story of woe.

In the most positive tone I could muster, I assured the man that I would do what I could to ensure this negative gets cleaned up and produces a wonderful picture. The man produced a gracious smile, looked at me and said, with a great deal of relief, "Thank you." My pleasure sir.

Cleaning the negative was a chore. I had to spray cleaner on it, wipe it off, and pick at it several times before it was able to be processed. Luckily I didn't damage the negative in my cleaning frenzy. I slipped the negative into the negative mask on our printer, adjusted the color levels, and gamma corrected for about 2 minutes before I was satisfied with the outcome. Typically, for reprints, I do minimal adjustments. Usually, it's just enough to make the picture look good. Not this time, though. I was going to ensure this man was absolutely satisfied with what I produced for him.

I printed out a sample 4x6 to see if he liked what I did with the picture. When I laid it down on the counter, he replied with an astonished "Oh wow..." He gripped his hand into a fist and put it up to his mouth as if he were kissing his index finger. Wearing a hat, and staring down at the picture, I couldn't see his eyes. I stood silent for a moment.

"...this is amazing."
"Thank you very much sir." I paused. Half waiting for him to say something, and half thinking of a way to make things better. " You know, sir. We have a special going on right now for our enlargements. If you'd like, I could make you an 8x10 for just one dollar." We had no such special going on.
"Can you make it look just like this?" He spoke with anticipation, but looked at me with desperation.
"Oh, this is just something I whipped together for you to preview. I'll give the 8x10 my special touch." I replied with a smile.
"I'd like that. Thank you so much."
"My pleasure sir."

Yes, I really say "sir" that much. My days of serving made it habitual.

With the 8x10 I spent close to 5 minutes cleaning the negative, and adjusting gamma and color levels. A 4x6 typically keeps minor imperfections out of sight, but an 8x10 can bring out even the tiniest dust particle.

The 8x10 finished printing, and I placed it on the counter for his approval. He said nothing, but once again, his hand was at his mouth, and his hat was covering his eyes.

"This is beautiful...I mean...I...*deep sigh* Wow."
"Thank you sir. I did the best I could."
He paused to collect his thoughts, "Ya know, he lived 18 years."
Knowing a bit about dogs, I've learned that if they live longer than 10 years, they're lucky. That's just been my experience, "Really? Wow. That's quite a long life for a dog." I really didn't know how best to respond to that. I was doing my best to maintain the customer/employee relationship.
"After I got home from Vietnam, he was the first thing I saw. He wasn't even mine." It was apparent he was fighting back tears, but he wanted this dog's legacy to be known, "He was with me all the time, everywhere I went. No matter how I was feeling, he was there. He was the best friend anyone could ever ask for." The shear power and conviction the man's words moved me in a way I never have been. I remained silent. He stopped to reflect on the life that was laying in front of him. "How much do I owe you?"
"A dollar, six, sir."

He paid, thanked me, and exited the store.

As I sat there in the photo-lab by myself, I started thinking about the nightmare that was Vietnam. I don't know personally, but many a story has been shared regarding the hell that it was. Then I thought about this man's first sight upon returning home from that war. The Irish Setter puppy that he took in, gave a home, and shared a bond with that only he will know. I had to push the tears back for the yuppie customer that just walked up to the counter.

"Are you still doing one hour?" She said in a pissy tone.
"No, sorry." We were, but I knew I didn't want to deal with any of her shit. She scoffed, rolled her eyes, and walked out of the store.
"Probably just meaningless shots you took trying to be artistic, asshole..." She was already in her car, but I wanted her to hear my words. "Try doing something with emotion, if you know what that is."

Too many people stop to take pictures of roses, but you have to wonder if they ever actually tried smelling them.