THE SUBTLE FACULTY
o watch John Berger, house detective, track the shoppers wan dering the first floor of a department store on Manhattan's Upper East Side is to witness attention in action. In a nondescript black suit, white shirt, and red tie, walkie-talkie in hand, John moves perpetually, his focus always riveted on one or another shop
per. Call him the eyes of the store.
It's a daunting challenge. There are more than fifty shoppers on his floor at any one time, drifting from one jewelry counter to the next, perusing the Valentino scarves, sorting through the Prada pouches. As they browse the goods, John browses them.
John waltzes among the shoppers, a study in Brownian motion. For a few seconds he stands behind a purse counter, his eyes glued to a prospect, then flits to a vantage point by the door, only to glide to a corner where a perch allows him a circumspect look at a poten tially suspicious trio.
While customers see only the merchandise, oblivious to John's watchful eye, he scrutinizes them all.
There's a saying in India, "When a pickpocket meets a saint, all he sees are the pockets." In any crowd what John would see are the pickpockets. His gaze roams like a spotlight. I can imagine his face seeming to screw up into a giant ocular orb reminiscent of the one':..eyed Cyclops. John is focus embodied.
THE SUBTLE FACULTY
o watch John Berger, house detective, track the shoppers wan dering the first floor of a department store on Manhattan's Upper East Side is to witness attention in action. In a nondescript black suit, white shirt, and red tie, walkie-talkie in hand, John moves perpetually, his focus always riveted on one or another shop
per. Call him the eyes of the store.
It's a daunting challenge. There are more than fifty shoppers on his floor at any one time, drifting from one jewelry counter to the next, perusing the Valentino scarves, sorting through the Prada pouches. As they browse the goods, John browses them.
John waltzes among the shoppers, a study in Brownian motion. For a few seconds he stands behind a purse counter, his eyes glued to a prospect, then flits to a vantage point by the door, only to glide to a corner where a perch allows him a circumspect look at a poten tially suspicious trio.
While customers see only the merchandise, oblivious to John's watchful eye, he scrutinizes them all.
There's a saying in India, "When a pickpocket meets a saint, all he sees are the pockets." In any crowd what John would see are the pickpockets. His gaze roams like a spotlight. I can imagine his face seeming to screw up into a giant ocular orb reminiscent of the one':..eyed Cyclops. John is focus embodied.
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