Pretend You're a Hooker
Nov. 19th, 2007 09:34 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mallorys_cameraLittle Store had a brilliant weekend – we made more money in the past three days than we did the first two weeks of November.
The seals were going nuts. Great pods of them cartwheeling across the bay. I've never seen anything like it. At first I thought they were porpoises, but no – no dorsal fin:
(If you look closely at the photo you can also see an egret…)
I remained in an odd, detached mood all weekend. In full performance mode at the store, of course, where I persist in thinking that products don't sell themselves, products are sold by moi.
Made up two new stand-up sales routines.
The first one only works on women.
At the cash register, I check the woman's photo ID and sigh, "This is a great photo of you –"
"You think?"
"Oh, definitely. My license photo makes me look like I'm auditioning for Night of the Living Dead."
The woman laughs. "The DMV always takes the worst pictures –"
"Oh, I know," I say. "I have this friend who always takes good DMV photos so finally I asked her: what's your secret? And she said, When you're putting on makeup that morning, pretend you're a hooker."
The woman explodes in laughter and says, "You know what? I think I want two of those Galito peri peri's."
The second routine works on men.
Two adorable gay guys are fondling the Ass Kickin' Jellybeans.
"Do you have candy dishes at work?" I ask.
They roll their eyes and nod.
"Well, see, the great thing about these jellybeans is that they taste just like ordinary jellybeans. For about 10 seconds. And then the heat kicks in."
The guys laugh. "How hot?" one asked.
"Oh, it's not going to kill anyone," I said. "But they'll feel it. I mean you wouldn't begrudge them the candy if they asked. But they're always grabbing without asking." I pause for dramatic effect. "Fuckers!" I say.
The guys explode in laughter and buy three.
I was detached because the general state of the world is so awful and also I was trying to remember the precise moment when politicians' private lives became fair game to the press. It was Gary Hart, wasn't it? In 1983.
Hubris was in play. Rumors of his extramarital affairs had been circulating almost from the moment Hart began campaigning for the Democratic nomination. The rumors may never have made it into print had Hart not issued a dare: "Follow me around. I don't care. I'm serious. If anybody wants to put a tail on me, go ahead. They'll be very bored."
The Miami Herald took him up on it.
The thing is that anyone with the balls to be a good leader is going to have had a pretty colorful private life and a lot of secrets. I mean, look at Churchill. Look at Roosevelt even.
In today's media climate, Roosevelt would be unelectable.
The seals were going nuts. Great pods of them cartwheeling across the bay. I've never seen anything like it. At first I thought they were porpoises, but no – no dorsal fin:
(If you look closely at the photo you can also see an egret…)
I remained in an odd, detached mood all weekend. In full performance mode at the store, of course, where I persist in thinking that products don't sell themselves, products are sold by moi.
Made up two new stand-up sales routines.
The first one only works on women.
At the cash register, I check the woman's photo ID and sigh, "This is a great photo of you –"
"You think?"
"Oh, definitely. My license photo makes me look like I'm auditioning for Night of the Living Dead."
The woman laughs. "The DMV always takes the worst pictures –"
"Oh, I know," I say. "I have this friend who always takes good DMV photos so finally I asked her: what's your secret? And she said, When you're putting on makeup that morning, pretend you're a hooker."
The woman explodes in laughter and says, "You know what? I think I want two of those Galito peri peri's."
The second routine works on men.
Two adorable gay guys are fondling the Ass Kickin' Jellybeans.
"Do you have candy dishes at work?" I ask.
They roll their eyes and nod.
"Well, see, the great thing about these jellybeans is that they taste just like ordinary jellybeans. For about 10 seconds. And then the heat kicks in."
The guys laugh. "How hot?" one asked.
"Oh, it's not going to kill anyone," I said. "But they'll feel it. I mean you wouldn't begrudge them the candy if they asked. But they're always grabbing without asking." I pause for dramatic effect. "Fuckers!" I say.
The guys explode in laughter and buy three.
I was detached because the general state of the world is so awful and also I was trying to remember the precise moment when politicians' private lives became fair game to the press. It was Gary Hart, wasn't it? In 1983.
Hubris was in play. Rumors of his extramarital affairs had been circulating almost from the moment Hart began campaigning for the Democratic nomination. The rumors may never have made it into print had Hart not issued a dare: "Follow me around. I don't care. I'm serious. If anybody wants to put a tail on me, go ahead. They'll be very bored."
The Miami Herald took him up on it.
The thing is that anyone with the balls to be a good leader is going to have had a pretty colorful private life and a lot of secrets. I mean, look at Churchill. Look at Roosevelt even.
In today's media climate, Roosevelt would be unelectable.
