I love shopping. Whether it be ambling through the markets on a lazy weekend anywhere in NSW or popping into a (good) Westfield to while away, let’s say, 4 or 5 hours (yes, I seriously do this – I don’t necessarily spend a cent, I just love to see what’s new and if anything, I buy for others)..
What I don’t love about shopping centres is “spruikers”, for want of a better term, trying to sell their “dead sea beauty products” every time I walk past (it would be remiss of me not to point out I work near a shopping centre and to get out of the office, I obviously, given my love of meandering, walk to the shopping centre - although not every day, I am not totally sad).
I walk towards their "pop up stall" with a feeling of dread, knowing that in their own greasy way, they are going to compliment me on my shoes, my hair, the colour of my eyes (okay, so they don’t get that close but you get my drift) and then when I offer a brief, tight smile and shake my head, they will pursue me for a few feet, telling me how wonderful their products are and how they will make me look 20 years younger.
Number one, I don’t want to look 20 years younger, I look bloody well fine as I am. Number 2, if their claim was indeed correct, I suspect they wouldn’t be working on a commission basis in a little shopping centre in the burbs, they would be RICH (like I am, apparently, having lost my health care rebate on the 1st of July and had my tax cut eaten away, bar $3 per annum, by the carbon tax BUT that is a blog for another day) and living in the Caribbean and no woman in the world would look a day over 30. I guess no one has actually said that to them yet, maybe I need to be the first?
So, I shall hope they move on soon so I can resume shopping without darting into shops to take cover (there is not a lot I can buy in MotherCraft but it happens to be the closest shop I can take refuge in to avoid them). If they stay, I may have to stop shopping. And truthfully, we all know that is not going to happen.
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