It’s gotten so that I don’t enjoy going to the local shopping mall.<\/p>\n
The reason? Kiosks.<\/p>\n
In particular, there’s a kiosk at the mall that is invariably staffed by salespeople who barely speak English, who are selling sea-salt skin products, and who snag their customers by reaching out and grabbing them.<\/p>\n
Once, many years ago, I made the mistake of being accosted by one of these salespeople. One of my nails on my right hand was filed to the point where it was so shiny I could see my reflection in what was left. I was embarassed by this for a month; that was how long it took for my nail to grow out and look normal<\/i>.<\/p>\n
I don’t want<\/i> their skin care products. I wouldn’t use<\/i> them.<\/p>\n
But they don’t take no<\/i> for an answer.<\/p>\n
What I’ve learned to avoid these kiosks. One, do not<\/b> make eye contact. Two, do not<\/b> slow down. Three, do not<\/b> react when you hear someone talking to you as you pass quickly by. Four, feign talking on your cellphone if you must.<\/p>\n
Learn these skills. Your fingernails will thank you. Your wallet will thank you.<\/p>\n
I bring this up as prologue to the events of Saturday.<\/p>\n
I was out of town, and I was making my way through a shopping mall. I successfully navigated my way around the kiosk of the nail filers, and I was quickly approaching the escalator that would take me to the parking garage.<\/p>\n
I saw someone at a kiosk. She said hello and smiled. I nodded in reply, and suddenly I found myself with a thing<\/i> around my neck.<\/p>\n
“Do you know about aromatherapy?” she said, her accent thick.<\/p>\n
I was confused. What had just happened? “Listen, I’m meeting someone for lunch.”<\/p>\n
“Just feel your pores open. It is warm, because we can put it in the microwave, and the spices inside allow your skin to breathe.”<\/p>\n
“No, really, I have to go.”<\/p>\n
Suddenly, there was something warm wrapped around my lower back, held to me by velcro straps.<\/p>\n
“Does that not feel good?”<\/p>\n
I had to admit that it did. It was likewise warm.<\/p>\n
Before I knew it, I had another thing strapped to me. This time, it was something around my wrist.<\/p>\n
Unfortunately, I had no way of making a getaway. This is how they trap you. Their English is barely decipherable — she was from an Israeli kibbutz, I learned when I asked about her accent, and I think this was the only thing that let me get away. And then, they manhandle you, slap things to your neck, wrist, or back, meaning you simply cannot make a run<\/i> for it. So you have<\/i> to listen to the sales pitch until you can get their crap<\/i> off of you. But you have<\/i> to be careful — they’re going to assume<\/i> that you’re going to buy, and she tried to make me buy a half-dozen aromatherapy things<\/i>.<\/p>\n
I finally made my escape. I dithered when confronted with a choice of colors (asking me about a favorite color is generally not<\/i> a good thing; I’m indifferent to color), and I repeated my insistent plea that I absolutely had<\/i> to meet someone for lunch. (A lie, but a plausible one.)<\/p>\n
I promised I would return after lunch. She said she trusted me, and that she wouldn’t take her lunch break until I came back.<\/p>\n
Yes, I felt a twinge of guilt that I hightailed it out of that shopping mall.<\/p>\n
Don’t be accosted at the mall! Be firm! And, if necessary, be like Brave Sir Robin and run as fast as you can!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
It’s gotten so that I don’t enjoy going to the local shopping mall. The reason? Kiosks. In particular, there’s a kiosk at the mall that is invariably staffed by salespeople who barely speak English, who are selling sea-salt skin products, and who snag their customers by reaching out and grabbing them. Once, many years ago,Continue reading “On Being Accosted at the Mall”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[114],"tags":[4093],"class_list":["post-1931","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-asides","tag-life","entry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.allyngibson.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1931","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.allyngibson.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.allyngibson.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.allyngibson.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.allyngibson.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1931"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/www.allyngibson.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1931\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.allyngibson.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1931"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.allyngibson.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1931"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.allyngibson.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1931"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}