Sunday, July 13, 2003

Blonde Matchsticks

I started writing about blonde matchsticks last night and my connection hung so it didn't post to the blog. Shame, too, because it was full of wrath and venom for those twiggy little 18 year old girls who wear platform flip-flops that make them appear to be Frankenstein's baby sister. The point of the thing was that after they, the cashier (guy about my age) and the bagger (another guy, about my age) and the cop finished their three-item transaction that took ten minutes, flirting and giggling the entire way, the cashier started chatting up the woman BEHIND ME IN LINE. And, fuck, when did I become invisible, eh?

It would be so easy to say that once I hit size 16 I dissolved into thin air like the majority of the population who is overweight and apparently don't exist for the likes of Donna Karan and so on. That seems to be cheating, though, and trite to boot. And yes, it's all about me so if you don't like it go somewhere else.

It seems to be a distinct thing with sales people, this situation. I don't have this problem at work, or with my neighbors. They are most likely to assist the younger thinner ones, forgetting that the mature ones probably have more money to spend. Ah, but, we're also intelligent and not likely to be taken in by their sales pitch.

I walked into Blockbuster yesterday and was promptly bombarded with a sales pitch about late-fee-free games, all you can rent, for the modest monthly fee of $20. As it happens I only walk into Blockbuster twice a year or so because I'm a die-hard Netflix subscriber, proudly renting as many movies as I can choke down every month. This guy really pushed, too. No, thank you, I'm a Netflix subscriber. No, thank you, I don't care for another monthly entertainment subscription. No, thank you, talk to my kid he'd probably enjoy it during the summer but he has restricted time for PS2 games during the school year.

Why can't they read my mind? Why don't they get it the first time? No wonder some guys have such a difficult time understanding what "NO" means. There are lots of books telling you how to "sell yourself at work." There's one called "Getting To Yes." You don't have to read the book to be influenced by the titles. How about one called "Understanding No."

Yes, yes, of course I'm ranting, duh, because even though that's the way of the world doesn't mean I have to LIKE it.

Posted by erin at July 13, 2003 10:41 AM

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