November 10, 2008

Yesterday, for the most part, was a great day. Hubby and 3 of our kids went out shopping and later ate supper out at a nice restaurant. However, there was about a 20 minute time span in the middle of the afternoon, that sorta creeped me out.

We decided to stop at Chapters so the kids could check out some books and 2 of the kids went in, while hubby and youngest son were looking in the SUV for something. I had bought a new handbag (yay me!) and was switching my stuff out of my old purse into my new purse – I had the vehicle door open, standing outside, sort of bent over, with my handbags on the front seat. I stood up straight and when I did, saw someone out of the corner of my eye – it was a woman. She immediately apologized to me, said she didn’t mean to startle me and apologized again, this time for bothering me. I thought for sure she was going to ask me for directions or if there was a certain store around the area, but no, it was worse than that.

She was a really hard-looking woman – I’d have put her at late 60s or even early 70s – very frail, thin, super wrinkled and uh, ’shabby’ looking. She introduced herself with a first name, which, seriously, I don’t even remember (she was so long winded that it left my mind). She was holding a bank debit card and a piece of paper. Then the dialogue began. Here is our conversation:

Woman: I hate to bother you and I’m really embarrassed to be even asking, and I’m only asking women – actually, you’re the first person I’ve asked. This is really hard for me – but I feel like I have no other choice. (My husband is in the SUV with my son – aware that there is a woman talking to me, but not really hearing all of the conversation).

Me: Okay – uh, what is it you want to ask me?

Woman: Listen, I assure you that I’m not a *says in a hushed whisper* hooker, or I don’t want to buy booze *my spidey senses flared up*, but I really need to ask a favor. I can assure you at 57 (wow, she’s only 57????!) years old, that I never thought I’d be in this position but * she hesitates – for dramatic effect?* my husband died a few months ago and I’ve found myself in this situation.

Me: Uh, okay.

Woman: Oh dear, I know it sounds far-fetched but I swear to you, I’m serious and it’s really hard asking people this. I’m from Vancouver originally, a bush girl, and I miss it, but I came here to Calgary, hoping to make a fresh start, knowing it’s a big city with money to be made. I have a job *shows me the paper she was holding* with “so and so” and he’s giving me a job in Canmore (about 90 mins from here), painting at $29.50/hr and I have to start the job on Monday. So *she pulls out a $5 bill from her shirt pocket* I’ve got $5 to put towards a bus ticket – I called earlier today and to take a bus from here to Canmore is just over $30, so since I’ve got five bucks, I just need another $25. Now, I’m not asking you for $25 but anything you could give me would be great and so appreciated. Oh, gosh…I just….this is so embarrassing, and I feel so bad to be even asking but I really want to get to my new job on Monday so I can get situated. My new boss said he’d even reimburse my travel expenses.

Okay, so at this point, I’m torn – my heart is saying, oh give the old broad five dollars, because her speech was good. But then, my head was saying, well her speech was good – too good. Rehearsed, like it was the 100th time she’d done it or she’d practiced in front of the mirror all morning. And seriously, if her ‘employer’ was willing to reimburse her travel expenses, why wouldn’t he just buy her a bus ticket so she could start her new job? Now I’m sorta pissed. This woman, who, because she has a bank card in one hand and piece of paper in the other with ‘job details’, wants me to hand over my money that I work hard for? How is that fair? Plus, my gut instinct was screaming at me to tell this woman to take a hike and hit someone else up.

I turn to look at hubby, who is looking back at me – he’s obviously heard the gist of the conversation afterall and he just shrugs his shoulders, like, come on, you know better.

Woman: Oh, I’m so sorry – I didn’t realize your husband was in the car and I know you’re with your family and I feel bad for bothering you, but I really need to get to my new job on Monday *again shows me her bank card – like what does that prove?* and every little bit helps.

I take a moment to just look at her. She said earlier that she didn’t drink but really, she was so worn out, so aged beyond her 57 years, that I could not believe that she wasn’t an alcoholic or a drug addict. She was rough – I mean, I’ve not seen a woman look like she lives that hard in – well forever. I know it, I know in my gut that she’s a con and while the sweet part of me wanted to give her money, I knew she’d take that money and piss it away on booze or drugs, that there was no $29.50/hr job waiting for her on Monday and I just couldn’t bring myself to give her money.

Woman: Well, can you help me out? Again, I’m so sorry for bothering you or scaring you.

Me: I’m really sorry, but I am going to decline, I just don’t feel comfortable.

Woman: Okay, no problem and again, sorry for bothering you.

And with that, she walked away, scanning the parking lot for the next woman she could approach.

Was I mean for not giving her money? I still feel bad and sort of guilty but I always (well 99% of the time) follow my gut and my gut was telling me that my money would go to nothing good. When I told my son about it later, he said that, that is one of the oldest lines in the book around this city – people bumming money for a ‘bus ticket to a new job’ or ‘needing money for gas for my car to get to my new job.’ Plus, her whole schpeal was waaaay too long and way too practiced.

On a fun note, I got a pre-lit Christmas tree (can you say lazy?) for a super price. I’ll talk more about that later (because a whole blog post dedicated to my pre-lit tree will be a scream).

November 5, 2008

I should probably start this out by apologizing to the dude in the white coat from nearly 3 years ago. My husband and I were out of town and while walking through the mall, this happened to me and I wrote:

Oh and speaking of flat irons, as we were walking through the mall, I was stopped by a guy trying to sell flat irons. That curl. Lemme get this straight (no pun), you want me to buy a flat iron that curls my hair? My naturally curly hair? That I straighten. With a flat iron. I said to the guy, ‘Listen, I have straight hair as you can see but it’s naturally curly. So that means I own a flat iron. I don’t want a flat iron that can curl my hair since I have curly hair and want it straight, hence the flat iron. That flattens’. He looked at me like I had a dirty diaper on, outside of my jeans. Whatever Jack Doofus in your white lab coat that makes you NOT look like a doctor trying to sell people flat irons. That curl. Good luck.

I may have spoken too soon and I am going to eat my words. See, the other day, as I’m walking through the mall in my own city, a girl approaches me from a kiosk and she’s waving to the display of flat irons. I’m all set to give her the big, ‘no thanks, got myself a flat iron,’ speech and for whatever reason, I stop and listen to what she has to say. She tells me to sit down and asks me what kind of flat iron I have. I tell her I have a Chi. She tells me that Chi’s are good but they’re working on seven-year-old technology. Oh. Hm. She has my attention, sorta, but I’m not into slick sales people who think they’re smarter than I am. Don’t get me wrong, they could very well be smarter than I am, but I don’t like people who give me a ‘pitch.’ Anyway, girl says can I show you how this flat iron works? I agree and although my hair is already straight because I’d just done it a few hours earlier, I’m telling you the piece of hair that she ran through her iron – was way nicer than I could have imagined.

She said you only have to run your hair through it once and it’s pin-straight and super shiny. She wasn’t kidding. My hair is so thick, long, naturally curly, that it takes me an hour to flat iron my hair and I usually have to run the iron over and over and over it. It comes out nice and does look shiny but this was amazingly shiny and amazingly straight. A lot of amazing.

Then, sales girl says, ‘it also curls.’ I’m all set to laugh in her face, like dude, I have curly hair, why do I want a flat iron that curls? Makes no sense. But then, before I could get the words out, she takes a piece of my hair and curls it. Oh my god. I wanted to date my hair. I was stunned. Shocked. She saw the expression on my face – she knew I was in love and would purchase the flat iron that flat irons and curls. Her eyes turned to dollar signs and mine turned to my hair – where I fell in love with it. Okay, so that’s dumb, but really, I was impressed. Then, panic sets in. I’m thinking if this flat iron is a double whammy, then it’s got to be really expenisve. I gulped and asked her how much. She shows me the price on the box – $250.00. Lord, no way am I paying $250 bucks for a flat iron no matter how much it made me want to date my hair.

But then the world turned right again – she told me that’s how much they retail for but, they don’t sell them for that much and my hopes got all excited and shit. So, how much then? Would it be a price I could justify? Kinda – $130.00. Well now, I paid $135.00 for my Chi over 2 years ago, so hell ya, I’m willing to fork out a hundred thirty clams for something that is going to make me drool over my own hair! Confetti and balloons fell from the ceiling, people were clapping and half naked men started dancing for me. Okay, so that part was only in my head, but still, it was a great moment. I was so happy, that I rushed home to try my new lover out. I say lover in a pure way, not in a creepy, I need medication way. And guess what else? You can buy any color you want – even zebra stripes if that’s what floats yer boat. I opted for – ready? PINK.

Here is my new friend and her name is “amika,” and no, I didn’t make that up, it’s the brand. Isn’t she just beautiful?

And do you want to see what this lovely pink lady can do? Okay, I’m sort of weirding myself out calling my flat iron a ‘lovely pink lady,’ but I can’t help myself. This is how my hair turned out – I flat ironed it and then put some curl at the ends. The shine alone gives me goosebumps. Trust me – if you’re someone who has thick, coarse, semi-curly, super wavy hair – you’ll understand what it means to have shiny hair!

So, to the dude in the fake doctor coat in the mall almost 3 years ago, I’m sorry that I called you a dork (I’m not sure if I said it loud enough for you to hear, but still) for trying to sell me a flat iron that curls. Obviously I was wrong (happens once a year or so) and although I still think you need to lose the white lab coat, you aren’t a toolkit and I probably shouldn’t have punched you in the ass. Lawsuit still pending?