Salesman: (n) A person whose job is not to sell you the things you need, but to sell you the things you don't want.*
There are times when being a little (ok, a lot) weird comes in handy.
Yesterday was one of those times.
We moved last summer from our 1450 square foot home on .18 acres to a little bit bigger house on almost 6 acres of land. Our driveway is now long enough that I can get up to about 30mph while driving on it, which I love doing even though my husband rolls his eyes every time he sees me gleefully racing up the driveway. Because that driveway is so long and because we now live directly on a state highway with a 55mph speed limit, I drive the kids down to the bus stop in the mornings so they don't get mowed down by some moron who is so determined to get to his destination that he can't be bothered to stop for the bus when it's picking up my kids (something that happens on almost a daily basis). A few weeks ago, my husband used my vehicle to go out of town for the day and when he got back I failed to notice that the truck was on E. I drove my boys down to the end of the driveway to wait for their bus and were were sitting there chatting away when my truck officially ran out of gas. Just shut right off and sat there at the road like a big dirty white beached whale. The ensuing process of having to find the gas can and take my husband's truck and cut through my neighbor's yard (since my truck was blocking the exit of our driveway) and get gas and not have a temper tantrum at the gas station when I couldn't get the top of the gas can off and then fill up my truck and drive both vehicles back up to the house in the 24 minutes I had before I had to log in to work was quite an ordeal, and it has made me overly paranoid about never letting my truck get that low on gas again.
Which brings me to yesterday.
I took my daughter with me to the grocery, and I asked her to remind me to get gas before we headed home. She did not fail me, and when I pulled into the pump at the gas station I noticed a gentleman walking from pump to pump hocking some sort of car cleaning products. My heart sank. I am awkward and weird in normal situations, but for some reason dealing with salesmen brings out the absolute worst level of awkwardness and weirdness in me. So I was like, shit shit shit, how do I avoid talking to this man? I know! Captain Weirdness to the rescue! I whisper-yelled to my daughter to hurry up and do something strange to deter the man from coming over to us. She immediately yelled something at me in a British accent, to which I responded by also yelling something in a British accent, and then we pretended to have an argument about her wanting to go to a place (the name of which she got from a random receipt she snatched off the floor in an attempt to assist me in achieving my goal) and I very sternly yelled at her to be quiet! Stop disrespecting me! She fell into a fit of giggles and continued arguing in a British accent and we smacked each other's legs in a gentle display of domestic abuse, and out of the corner of my eye I saw the salesman eyeball my vehicle with extreme wariness and then - hallelujah amen - he veered off to the SUV at the pump next to me and avoided us altogether. Success!
Apparently, my extreme aversion to salesmen makes it easier to seem like a British woman having a domestic dispute with her child at a gas station in middle Tennessee than it would have been to have to say, "No thanks," to a stranger trying to sell me something I won't know how to say no to if I allowed him to get his hooks in me.
My goal accomplished, I high fived my amazing daughter and we headed home giggling about our adventure and reveling in our shared trait of being really, really strange.
P.S. Richard, you can stop bugging me now.
*disclaimer: I went with the Urban Dictionary definition here, not because I want to disrespect any hard-working folks who earn their living in sales, because that's not my intention. I went with the Urban Dictionary definition simply because I am so incredibly leery of my unpredictable response to a salesman that it seemed to sum up my mental image of a salesman in a more accurate way than the good ol' Webster's definition I usually use.