Posted by: jockmackenzie | April 29, 2009

“Dealing with Dymans” Chapter 3, Part 2

Click the “start arrow” below to hear the audio of this chapter:

Over the next week or so, Jack started quietly asking other friends and acquaintances about their dealings with Sharma and Dymans Fine Jewellery; he was surprised with the mixed responses he received. Initial reactions fell at either end of the spectrum – great place, den of iniquity. Further questioning revealed the dichotomy. Back in the day, in this instance, prior to Dougie Dymans taking over the business, Fine Jewellery was almost an understatement. Add “fine” to virtually every category – customer relations, quality of service and product, community involvement – and you would be describing the Sharma and Dymans of old. But almost as soon as the heir apparent, Douglas Rollins Dymans, acceded to the throne, the business’ reputation spiraled into the considerably “not fine” category.

Jack called Sydney and asked if they could have a chat. It seemed a bit odd but Sydney suggested they meet at the local off leash, dog-walking park, offering the suggestion that, with the mild weather, a stroll in the great outdoors would be nice. They agreed to meet the following day after Sydney got home from work.

The next day, as Jack waited for Sydney to arrive, he was feeling like a dog, a dog that had sniffed something important, that he knew was nearby but something that he couldn’t find. He paced back and forth, mindful of where he stepped (What was the matter with some people? Wasn’t providing free plastic bags in dispensers along the trails convenient enough for them?), and wondered what had made Sydney so vehement in his dislike for Douglas “Dougie” Dymans.

One of Jack’s questions was answered the moment Sydney pulled into the parking area. At first glance Jack wasn’t sure it was real but then it leapt down from the back dash of Sydney’s old Volvo sedan. It was a dachshund, a sausage dog. Sydney opened the car door and out slid the low-slung pooch, brooding eyes, furrowed brow, droopy ears. An odd thought struck Jack – good grief, it looked just like Giselle, Sydney’s wife.

“Howdy, Syd. What’s up – or should I say ‘down’?”

“Cute, Jack. I guess it beats, ‘Now I know what your wiener looks like.’ This is Giselle’s latest project. His name is Waldi, he came from the Daschund Rescue Society. Ever since she retired, she has had, in my humble opinion, just a little too much time on her hands. Her mission in life is give back to society, and she is busier than ever out saving the world. I suppose after her lifetime as a lawyer, I can see her point. Don’t ever tell her I said that. Hey, let’s walk and talk. Just a sec, gotta get a coupla bags. This low rider has got an equally long intestinal tract.”

As they walked, Sydney became much more serious, telling Jack what he knew of Dougie Dymans.

“Giselle’s older sister, Elsa, married into the Dymans family. She met the older son, Robert, at university. She was in Arts; Bobbie was in Engineering. Apparently, he had no desire to follow in his father’s footsteps and, even though he had worked in the store as a part-time job, never saw the jewellery business as a career. Dougie was another story. Talk about how different brothers can be. I guess you’d be better off betting on a june bug in a chicken coop than on Dougie’s chances of getting into any kind of school after grade 12. He was Mr. Non-academic Plus Maximus.”

Jack interrupted, “But you intimated that he was ‘bad.’ When you had your turn at coffee a while back, I got the distinct impression that there might be something almost sinister about this guy.”


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