Black Strangers

Oh… oh jeez. That title is just asking for trouble. But, Black Friday Strangers doesn’t quite have the same rhythm to it… you know… penta rather then tetra. Oh man, now I just sound like a literary nerd.

MOVING RIGHT ALONG!

My Black Friday Adventures were brief. Despite the apparent benefit to stimulating the economy by purchasing things in tangible stores, I still rather do 900% of my shopping online where the prices are better and I don’t have to leave the house. As such, I was only in Arizona Mills for about an hour.

As I was walking back towards Exit-4 where by I had parked my car, a man standing near a kiosk was clearly trying to get my attention.

There were four people by said kiosk, and I couldn’t see the surface or what it was selling. One of them was a petite, very cute woman, who was talking to two really tall military guys in fatigues. The last of the folks was a non-American looking fellow, who was trying REALLY hard to get my attention. Doing a statistical analysis in my head, I decided the Kiosk was a military related thing. The two guys in fatigues were trying to recruit the cute girl, and the guy waving his hands in my direction just happened to be near it, but was not affiliated with it.

Through his thick accent, I finally caught what he was saying. “Where did you get that bag?” he was asking – pointing to a leather bag I was carrying. I told him where I had purchased it, how much it cost, why I needed it… this might have been the most brilliant Kiosk related sales pitch ever, as he got me to stop walking and engage him in a conversation before I even realized he was INDEED working at the kiosk.

He told me his name was Mizel. He had achieved his US Citizenship just under a year ago, after growing up in Israel and fighting for the Israeli army. The selling point of this wasn’t the tie to my Jewish heritage, but the fact that this poor guy had come to the promise land to work a mall kiosk on Black Friday… the poor bloke CLEARLY hated his job. It made me morbidly reminiscent of the days when I worked at the front desk of a gym – sliding people’s membership cards without so much as a hello.

So, effectively, he had gotten me to take the bait, set the hook – now all he had to do was reel. I still had no idea what he was selling, but he and I both realized now was the time for that to change.

“When was the last time you washed your hands?” he asked.

“Uhh… bout an hour ago?”

“How often do you wash your hands?” he asked… he then asked what kind of soap I use, if I use lotion, how often I exfoliate. The moment I heard the word exfoliate, I knew I had just broken away from the line and was swimming away victorious… but, he seemed happy to have someone to talk to, so I stayed and chatted.

He asked about my job. We talked about finance, the economy, how I got into my profession – all that stuff. Meanwhile, he kept putting salt on my hands and telling me why salt PARTICULARLY from the Dead Sea was awesome, and all of the nutrients I was taking into my skin at this very minute. Every thirty seconds or so – he sprayed my hands with a water bottle, a dash of this and spritz of that. He kept asking how my hands FELT, if they were refreshed or spiritually invigorated. I told him at one point my fingers were burning, because I regularly gnaw on my cuticles and salt getting into open sores didn’t feel good. He asked me to imagine how good my hands would feel if I didn’t make a habit out of gnawing on myself.

So, we were approaching the end of this little experience. Every time he sprayed my hands, he held a little bowl underneath them to collect the water. When we were finally through, he pointed to the water and said “what color is that?”

“Kind of gray,” I told him.

“No no. It is VERY gray,” he said. Kudos to you, enthusiastic salesmen.

Now, before I go further – I would like to point out that I am very familiar with this dead sea salt stuff, as my ex-girlfriend Carolyn used the stuff religiously. To its credit, and hers, her skin was irrationally soft… but, I vividly remember her and me once having a conversation about ME using the stuff, and her concluding that she wouldn’t want to date a man who spent as much time exfoliating as she did. Point remembered, sale lost.

“You said you washed your hands about an hour ago?” asked Mizel.

“Yes.”

“And they were still this dirty?” he asked, with a look of genuine concern on his face.

“Yes.”

“Does that bother you? Wouldn’t you like to know that this extra dirt was off your precious skin?”

“…no, not really.”

Sales 101 – don’t ask yes or no questions when trying to close a sale.

“…well, for only $199 – you can purchase a 2 year supply of this dead sea salt,” he said, discouraged.
“Yeah… uhh… I’m not… really interested.”

“Do you mind if I ask why?”

“Well – I don’t really care if my hands are THAT clean,” I said.

“But… do you see value in having them be THIS clean?”

“Well, Mizel… you’ve shown me value – sure… but you haven’t shown me how I will lose MORE THAN $199 if I DON’T buy your product.”

“I don’t follow…” said Mizel.

I didn’t really explain it to him… I figured I’d let him think about it on his own. But I did make him a promise.

“How’s this sound – when I have more money than I need, and a girlfriend with insufficiently soft skin – I’ll come find you, alright? I promise.”

He smiled.

“Have a nice holiday, sir.”


And a nice holiday to all of you, my loyal readers!!!