Here’s a typical episode for me. Last week I had my first experience with an in-store demonstration at the supermarket. I was in the front row. Just for watching, we were each given a plastic tool that looked like a switchblade. Living all those years on my boat in the Caribbean I’d missed seeing food channels and infomercials, and I was so mesmerized by the energetic gal wielding the latest slicer-dicer I didn’t even mind being sprayed with apple juice. I likewise watched the audience’s reactions.
There were ten of us, all over 40 except one young gal with 2 toddlers. We oohhh’d and aahhh’d as Demo Gal turned fruits and veggies into flowers and palm trees; she even made a cucumber shark. We stared open mouthed as she brought out yet more free gifts available only to us, at prices so unbelievable she just didn’t know how her bosses managed it. The woman next to me smiled knowingly. Bless this little gal’s heart, I thought. I remember when I had all that enthusiasm. I hope she gets paid by the hour.
“Who’ll take one?” First hand in the air was the woman next to me. My neck snapped back and forth as one hand after another shot up; literally everyone took one except the young Mom and me. She obviously had a good reason. “Anyone else?”
A box moved towards me so I quickly added, “but I’m a Starving Artist.”
Chuckles erupted as she said, “Awww, we need to support our artists. Somebody buy her a set.”
“Buy a bag,” I replied as I held up my gourd purse; I’ve been hawking these bags to anyone who’ll listen for a couple years. More chuckles. Yeah, that’s what I thought.
But I did get a second switchblade as a consolation prize, and I merrily walked away.
