Gerta phoned me later that week to tell me that I’d been assigned to the Penn-Can Mall in the town of Cicero, just north of Syracuse. “Congratulations!” she said. But I was crestfallen. In the hierarchy of Central New York malls, there wasn’t a more down-on-its-luck mall than the Penn-Can. “Is that place still even open?” I asked, not bothering to hide my disappointment. The last time I’d been to Penn-Can, fountains had been drained, ferns had yellowed, and water stains had ringed the ceiling tiles around the skylights. Newer, sleeker malls like the Great Northern and the Carousel Center…