Page 27 of The Overtime Persuasive

“And one chocolate in each,” she says. “Please try not to eat them.”

“I wasn’t going to take one.” I finish the box and slide it toward her for inspection.

She checks the corners of the record sleeve, adjusts the candle by half an inch, then runs her finger beneath the edge of the tissue paper before closing the box lid.

The care with which she touches each item, that’s what tells me how much effort she’s put into this. Some businesses would be putting products in a box to ship out. But, not Eva. Every item has been chosen to complement the others. The book matches the mood of the record. The candle has something to do with both, although I can’t begin to explain what. Even the tea has a handwritten card attached to it with brewing instructions and a note from Eva.

“You write all of these?”

“All seventy-five.” She glances at the card. “Yes.”

“That’s a lot of notes.”

“They’re paying for a luxe box of nostalgia to be delivered to their door.”

“They’re paying for a book, a candle, and a record.”

“They can buy those anywhere.” She reaches for the next order sheet. “They’re paying me to curate this for them. It’s an at-home experience.”

There’s no hesitation when she says it. No apology. She knows exactly what Side B offers and why people want it.

I watch her check the name on the next order.

“Oh, good. This one is for Carolina.” She swaps the chocolate for another kind. “She can’t have hazelnuts.”

“You know all of these people?”

She shrugs. “Not all of them.”

“How many?”

She scans the pile. “Maybe forty. Forty-five?”

Forty-ish customers whose allergies, reading preferences, and musical tastes she keeps somewhere in her head.

I’ve been here fifteen minutes, and she has already fixed my folding twice, stopped me from putting the wrong chocolates into a box, and answered a customer email without losing her place in the line.

Eva Barlow can be at least five different people at once, and I’m here to witness it.

“How many boxes did you expect to sell?” I ask.

“When I first started doing it?”

I nod as she mulls it over.

Eva reaches for another candle. “I think my goal was at least ten. Twelve if I was really lucky.”

I look at the rows covering the table. “You sold six times that.”

“It’s the third month.” She says it so casually, that I’m like, well. Duh.

“Yeah, and this is great for a third month. How do you advertise?”

“I don’t.” She gives me a look when I cough. “I display it in the window, and then put it on my socials and website. They’re selling.”

“That’s so…” Amazing? Effortless? So Eva? “Seriously, you’re not doing anything else to get them out there in front of people?”

She looks at me and plants her hands on her hips. “Do they teach you to ask numerous questions and to present with relentless optimism when you sign an NHL contract?”