Charlotte Rage

Christmas is synonymous with words like joy and giving but it also communes with words like traffic and pushy sales people. The mall seems to be one of my foundations for rage and that is where my story takes place. Imagine if you will an eight year old girl and a twenty five year old woman walking hand in hand down the hallway in the mall. We’re laughing and having a great time, oblivious to our impending doom.

As we walk by a kiosk with a young foreign sales woman I make two rookie mistakes. I make eye contact and I smile at her. At first she seems sweet and offers us a warm smile, all the while I’m praying that she lets us pass her. Then she takes the dreaded step towards us and out of courtesy we stop to listen to her pitch. (After all, it’s my fault she’s talking to us in the first place.)

She’s selling hair straightening irons and her pitch seems to appeal to my young shopping partner. She offers her a chair in front of a large mirror and begins to use her tool to straighten her hair. Now for a little girl with curly hair who dreams about having pin-straight hair this is a magical experience. The sales woman has already hooked her but her talons haven’t gotten into me yet. All the while this is happening I’m singing “Never Smile at a Crocodile” from Peter Pan – it seems fitting.

Never smile at a crocodile
No, you can’t get friendly with a crocodile
Don’t be taken in by his welcome grin
He’s imagining how well you’d fit within his skin
Never smile at a crocodile
Never dip your hat and stop to talk awhile
Never run, walk away, say good-night, not good-day
Clear the aisle but never smile at Mister Crocodile
You may very well be well bred
Lots of etiquette in your head
But there’s always some special case, time or place
To forget etiquette…

I’m wishing at this point I’d forgotten etiquette and just looked away and rushed past her. Regardless we’re stuck now listening to her pitch about how this tool is the best one on the market. She’s showing us other brands they’ve undoubtedly scratched themselves with something sharp, slandering the other brand names and telling us that if we spend close to $150 on this tool we’ll never have to buy another.

Now it would be okay for me to stand there and listen to her pitch for two minutes but this is taking forever. She’s got the kid stuck in the chair now with her hair half curled and half straight and we can’t go anywhere until it’s fixed. What’s even worse is that now she’s starting to push my buttons. I’ve told her that we have a lot of Christmas shopping to do and that right now we’re not looking to purchase a straightening iron. Then she starts giving me the discount dance. Are you in the military? Are you a student? Because for today only (and I start snickering because she’s actually whispering like she’s doing me a favor and telling me something she shouldn’t) she’ll give me a discount and sell it for $80. She whispers even lower and says that if she gives the discount to me she can’t give out another all day. That’s when it happens. I laugh in her face. I can’t help it and I can’t stop it. It just comes out. She smiles, confused and asks me what I’m laughing about. Then she just pushes even more… I’ll give you a free case, you can come in and get your hair done for free at our stand…. It goes on and on and on and on.

Finally I can’t talk anymore BS and I get serious.

“I’m not interested. Fix her hair please; we would like to finish our shopping now.”

The nice girl dissolves and the ice princess comes to the surface. She doesn’t say a word. She straightens some of the curls – but leaves some probably to spite me. Fortunately my little friend is a good sport and doesn’t really care. The sales woman gives me a card, a formality I assume, in case I change my mind. As we walk away I can’t help but laugh. I hear Deck the Halls over the loudspeaker and find myself making up my own version. Deck the Holiday Sales Person seems like it would be a hit. I wonder if Weird Al would buy the title.