I’d like to think it’s quite often an attractive lady approaches me in public and asks if I’m married.
When this happened yesterday, sadly the woman in question was on duty selling skin care products in a shopping mall concourse. Moisturiser is not one of my priorities in life.
Still, bright and bubbly, I sensed the chance to check out some sales spiel.
I must have at least one special lady in my life, right? It always looks good to buy a little gift, doesn’t it? Surely these products are nicer than those in England? Let me show you something that’ll change your life…
Well, the nail varnish scrub gizmo that followed won’t do that. And now I can’t remove the gleam from the particular nail press ganged for the demo for a fortnight.
On the whole, the exchange was what you’d expect. Little by way of eliciting my desires, although plenty on the pleasant chat front.
One tactic did stand out though. Each time I tried to escape, the youngster chirped;
Let me just ask you one question…
This happened four or five times. It was clearly either her ‘thing’ or trained behaviour. Whichever, I was compliant and allowed the one question to follow.
It reminded me a touch of news interrogators that, as their prey starts to run down the street, ask the Columbo, or Morse, style killer question ‘after’ the end, just when the suspect thinks they can relax, thinking that the real grilling is over. Reporters are also prone to say, ‘and my final question…’, when it is in fact the penultimate one for similar affect.
It did remind me of one truth too. There’s always one more question we should be asking. What was it on your last call?