The Sell

I make it pretty clear that I despise shopping. Unless it's a book store or a kitchen gadget store, I avoid shopping until my attire looks so ragged that one might assume I'm on the verge of being homeless.

While I was making out my grocery list this morning, I got a wild hair to buy some new tennis shoes. The last pair I bought was over three years ago right before I left for Italy. Up until then I would not pay more than $50 for tennis shoes. When I was trying on shoes, the saleslady at Dick's Sporting Goods convinced me to try on some $120 shoes with bright lilac stripes. They were not anything I would have picked out, but once I tried them on I realized that she was right. My high arch was supported by the not-so-me shoe and I never regretted spending that money.

So today I went to the mall to hopefully find another well informed salesman who could tell me the right kind of shoe to get for my feet. It took awhile, but finally I got a salesguy that showed me the same type of shoe, but it was much more my style and now at a bargain rate of $79.

Instead of immediately exiting the mall, which would be my normal M.O. I trekked out to see if I might actually find something that captured my eye.

So I'm walking past the stores and kiosks when one of those hawker kiosk guys tries to stop me. I glanced over, shook my head and moved on. The young man then asked me a question I couldn't quite hear. Normally I would just walk on but something about the tone of the question stopped me. He was a young guy with a Middle East accent and look.

I couldn't quite place his accent, not Indian, not Saudi. When I slowed to figure out what he said, he smiled. This kid was slick. He wasn't overly attractive in a physical sense, nice looking, but just okay but this boy knew how to put out the charm.

He asked me if I wore my nails natural. Well I do now and although they are thin, the last few weeks they have survived long enough to be a nice length. He gave me a flirty smile and took a buffer and buffed my thumbnail to a clear nail polish shine.

I knew I was not going to spend money on an overly priced buffer and he shows me this whole kit. I'm a hard sell and I wasn't falling for a charming, sweet talking cute 20 year old. So I don't fall for the cute grin when he tells me the normal price is $62 but its on sale for $49. No way Jose, I mean Mohammad. He continues asking me questions about my nails. I tell him I'm too lazy to mess with them. Then he asks me what I do, when I tell him I'm in IT he asks me if I wash my hands a lot. He continues holding my hand when I tell him no. He smiles and says "So you're a dirty girl." I wasn't quite sure if he knew the double entendre or he was just making a joke. In either case it still made me laugh. He knew I was on to his game.

He didn't have the hokey charm, but real charm, obviously well versed in charming the ladies, even the old frumpy ones. So with a definite "No" he then pulls out a crunched up box. Gives me another charming song and dance. By then I'm smiling. We both know its a game he's good at. I tell him so. He shows me the discounted box and then turns it over and says, "And look here, this is made in Israel. Not in China." So then I'm wondering if my new cute crush is an Israeli. Which instantly makes him even more cute in my book. He takes out his calculator and says he can sell me the damaged box for $24. I tell him I'll pay him $15.

He smiles and puts his arm around me. "Oh I can't do that." I laugh, enjoying this kid's successful attempt at making an old lady enjoy being flirted with even if its just for a sale. I told him he was really good at this but I didn't really need it but I enjoyed his sales pitch as I walked on.

I browsed a couple stores for a whole 15 minutes, which is much too long for my taste and start my way back. I know I must pass the kiosk again and honestly the thought about the products being made in Israel was sticking in my brain occupying the same space as still enjoying being flirted with by a young boy. (No, I'm not under any delusion that he was flirting other than for the sale, but it's still a nice feeling.)

So I walk back toward the kiosk and I find my cute young man. He starts to go back to his spiel when he realizes this was the fish that just got away. He grins that cute smile, puts his arm back around me while pulling out the damaged box and I grin and tell him I'll give him $20. He then says, "oh Baby, no." He already knows he has me reeled in and I laugh again at watching this snake charmer in action. You have to appreciate a good salesguy that can pull that off without seeming smarmy.

He's still flirting as he's ringing up the sale. Tells me his name is at the top of the receipt, it's Zion. Huh. I'm again wondering if he's Israeli. Call me racist, but it's easy to find a young Israeli more charming than a Pakistani. Perhaps it's because I'm thinking about him practicing to be a suicide bomber.

I leave the mall smiling, which is unusual for me.

Maybe now I understand better why old men are swayed into the charms of young good looking girls that know how to put on a good flirt.

Hey, I'm old, not dead.