Wednesday, January 13, 2010
They live at the mall . . . in the kiosk aisle . . . and I'm deathly afraid of them! You know, they're the kiosk workers who are like super aggressive about you trying their awesome nail buffer stuff on one hand, leaving you to walk around like a dork with one hand buffed and the other clearly not, just so you can buy their product, which you can get cheaper elsewhere—yeah, them.
Look, I get that our society is one of give and take, and I'm all about helping re-stimulate the economy, really I am. I am not however, all about being hounded to buy a Sprint phone when I already have a T—Mobile phone that I pay zilch for. I politely say no, and they're like, "Let me show you 900 ways that our phone is better than your current one." And then I pass the Verizon kiosk and they have 901 ways that their phone is better than mine. What they don't seem to understand is that NO THANK YOU means "Heck no, with a cherry on top."
The only reason I don't like going to the mall alone is because of the kiosk vultures. They're there, they're aggressive, and they're not taking NO for an answer . . . which sucks, cause it's the only one I have for them. I don't need Proactiv. I don't need hair extensions. I don't need Foakleys. I don't need a train set. I don't need a calendar of Robert Pattinson . . . wait. strike that. i DO need that . . . but anyway. The point still stands—they're ruthless!
It is so bad for me. I seriously look at them, and I see them as vultures, gritting their beaks in anticipation, honing in for the kill. And I get this overwhelming urge to run through the middle aisle of the mall and hide in Abercrombie, where the strong near-nakie models will protect me with their overwhelming Abercrombie Suntan Stench. Instead, I call up friends and/or family members and talk to them while I briskly walk by, avoiding contact with the beasts of burden staring me down. I hold conversation until I'm in the clear zone, near the less intrusive kiosks . . . you know, like the Ugg Boots kiosk and the Hair Club for Men kiosk—they're harmless.
Maybe one day I'll overcome this fear, but in the meantime, I've got you on speed dial! ;)