I got done in San Francisco
(While I'm waiting for an interminable file search to complete...)
So, something I'm not very proud of happened while I was in San Francisco. Let me sum it up this way: it's a dangerous thing to walk through the Westfield Shopping Center near closing time on a slow day.
I managed to escape the tooth whitening booth. The insanely expensive fancy "beauty" product booth...not so much. The guy was a master -- he spotted my Achilles heel in seconds. "Nice hair!", he called out. "I really love your hair style!". When I turned around to say thanks, he grabbed my hand and said, "Here, let me give you something for free." I read enough mythology as a kid to know better than to turn around. Instead of being turned to salt or having to stay in the land of the dead, though, I ended up laden down with Dead Sea salt.
I can't really explain why I bought that stuff. I've spent a lifetime saying "no" to creams, masks, gels, scrubs, and all manner of products of dubious efficacy. And even though the mask he was pushing did appear to do very good things to my skin, the price he named was an order of magnitude more than I feel anyone should ever pay for mud to smear on their face. The only explanation I can offer is the amount of "free" stuff he tossed in. And, perhaps, my Canadian politeness in not just bluntly saying no and walking away.
And then, having softened me up, he handed me over to his boss. She wasted no time in working me over like a wide-eyed country girl who just arrived at the bus station in the big city needing a place to sleep. She went for the other Achilles heel -- the "wrinkles" around my eyes that only I (and, apparently, she) can perceive. Mineral eye creme, mineral eye gel, "bitox" anti-aging gel. She kept telling me that last one was recently featured on Oprah. I kept thinking, "Unless it's been recently featured in the Journal of the American Medical Association, I don't buy it, literally and figuratively." She said it cost $400. I think she could see my brain failing to comprehend that number. Then she said she'd give it to me for her manager's discount of $200. My eyes still rang up "No Sale". So she leaned in and whispered into my ear that -- if I solemnly swore to never ever tell anyone -- she'd give it to me for free, as long as I bought the mineral eye gel.
Doomed.
And then she slipped in the mineral eye cream, for a good price, she swore. I was too stunned to resist. In fact, I spent the rest of the night in my hotel room kinda staring at the wall in shock.
Things that make me feel bad about all this:
- $500 is a totally astoundingly ridiculous price to pay for three small jars of goop
- I don't even think digging up the Dead Sea so rich people can smear it on their faces is a good idea
- I hate supporting an industry that defines beauty the way those people did
- I got a little piece of my own back by coming out to her as poly at the end, thereby fucking with her head a tiny fraction of the amount she'd just fucked with mine*
Things that make me feel slightly better about all this:
- Selling expensive creams from a booth in a mall is probably not as fun or rewarding as my job; at least I gave two people a boost from some extra commissions that night
- With the "freebies", I walked away with ten jars of goop; so maybe I paid $50 each for ten things?
- I just gave $500 to the Coalition on Homelessness, San Francisco
- I can afford all this, because I am very lucky
- ...and their stuff actually does make my skin look fantastic
*The conversation went like this:
Her: Do you have a boyfriend?
Me: Yes. Two.
Her: What?
Me: I have two boyfriends.
Her: *congratulatory hug*
Her: Do they know about each other?
Me: Oh yes! I wouldn't have it any other way! They like each other, actually.
Her: ...
Her: And they...?
Me: Yes, they have other girlfriends. They're all awesome.
Her: So, I think you must not really love them.
Me: On the contrary! I've been with one of them over three years and love him quite a lot!
Her: ...
So, something I'm not very proud of happened while I was in San Francisco. Let me sum it up this way: it's a dangerous thing to walk through the Westfield Shopping Center near closing time on a slow day.
I managed to escape the tooth whitening booth. The insanely expensive fancy "beauty" product booth...not so much. The guy was a master -- he spotted my Achilles heel in seconds. "Nice hair!", he called out. "I really love your hair style!". When I turned around to say thanks, he grabbed my hand and said, "Here, let me give you something for free." I read enough mythology as a kid to know better than to turn around. Instead of being turned to salt or having to stay in the land of the dead, though, I ended up laden down with Dead Sea salt.
I can't really explain why I bought that stuff. I've spent a lifetime saying "no" to creams, masks, gels, scrubs, and all manner of products of dubious efficacy. And even though the mask he was pushing did appear to do very good things to my skin, the price he named was an order of magnitude more than I feel anyone should ever pay for mud to smear on their face. The only explanation I can offer is the amount of "free" stuff he tossed in. And, perhaps, my Canadian politeness in not just bluntly saying no and walking away.
And then, having softened me up, he handed me over to his boss. She wasted no time in working me over like a wide-eyed country girl who just arrived at the bus station in the big city needing a place to sleep. She went for the other Achilles heel -- the "wrinkles" around my eyes that only I (and, apparently, she) can perceive. Mineral eye creme, mineral eye gel, "bitox" anti-aging gel. She kept telling me that last one was recently featured on Oprah. I kept thinking, "Unless it's been recently featured in the Journal of the American Medical Association, I don't buy it, literally and figuratively." She said it cost $400. I think she could see my brain failing to comprehend that number. Then she said she'd give it to me for her manager's discount of $200. My eyes still rang up "No Sale". So she leaned in and whispered into my ear that -- if I solemnly swore to never ever tell anyone -- she'd give it to me for free, as long as I bought the mineral eye gel.
Doomed.
And then she slipped in the mineral eye cream, for a good price, she swore. I was too stunned to resist. In fact, I spent the rest of the night in my hotel room kinda staring at the wall in shock.
Things that make me feel bad about all this:
- $500 is a totally astoundingly ridiculous price to pay for three small jars of goop
- I don't even think digging up the Dead Sea so rich people can smear it on their faces is a good idea
- I hate supporting an industry that defines beauty the way those people did
- I got a little piece of my own back by coming out to her as poly at the end, thereby fucking with her head a tiny fraction of the amount she'd just fucked with mine*
Things that make me feel slightly better about all this:
- Selling expensive creams from a booth in a mall is probably not as fun or rewarding as my job; at least I gave two people a boost from some extra commissions that night
- With the "freebies", I walked away with ten jars of goop; so maybe I paid $50 each for ten things?
- I just gave $500 to the Coalition on Homelessness, San Francisco
- I can afford all this, because I am very lucky
- ...and their stuff actually does make my skin look fantastic
*The conversation went like this:
Her: Do you have a boyfriend?
Me: Yes. Two.
Her: What?
Me: I have two boyfriends.
Her: *congratulatory hug*
Her: Do they know about each other?
Me: Oh yes! I wouldn't have it any other way! They like each other, actually.
Her: ...
Her: And they...?
Me: Yes, they have other girlfriends. They're all awesome.
Her: So, I think you must not really love them.
Me: On the contrary! I've been with one of them over three years and love him quite a lot!
Her: ...