Soma Care Salesman fails to read Sarah's body language...so this happened.

Good afternoon!

A week past Easter and two weeks past the first day of Spring and there are those of us who expect to NOT see snow on the ground. Alas, such is not my fate.

I get a little poetic when I'm still running the furnace in April.  You know. poets starve for their art and I'm going to be starving if I have to pay for running the furnace too deep into April.

Anyway, that's not why I'm here on this cloudy, windy, snow flakes dancing in the air but aren't quite hitting the ground afternoon.  I'm here to talk about my latest trip to Sam's Club.
For once I have a story that does NOT involve the pharmacy...but still, I have a story about going to Sam's club.

Hubby and I were there yesterday, shopping for a few items (that ultimately wound up being $127 in groceries. But that's how we do...we're feeding two and we still can't turn down buying 87 pounds of apples because at that price they're like 49 cents a pound!)  and as we were winding up our spree, Hubby decided he needed to use the facilities.  So off he went.  And, as so often happens, I realized I, too, needed to use the facilities a few minutes later.

I steered my cart the most direct route because the more I thought about it the more important it was for me to get to the ladies room.  I was halfway there when I was stopped by a salesperson. I don't know if you have a Sam's Club or any other big box store where they allow vendors come in and do demonstrations or have a display or just openly assault people in the aisles, but at our Sam's Club they have vendors in there all the time.  I try really hard to avoid them because I don't need my windows/bathtub/floors refinished, I don't want a new cable/cellphone/insurance provider and if I wanted to buy hair gel/curling irons/mattresses/vitamin drinks, I am perfectly capable of finding them on the shelves myself.

The vendor in question on this day was a Soma Care guy.  If you're not familiar with Soma Care, it's hot and cold packs that you put on your body to relieve stress.

You'll see the irony in a moment.

The sales guy was a very motivated young man. How motivated?  He jumped in front of my cart (which was full and had a pretty good velocity going because I was on a mission to get to the ladies room...NOW.)

"Do you feel muscle aches?"

That was his opening.  And then he stuffed this tiny red rubber pillow in my hand. It was hot.  I was not amused.  I told him I needed to go.  (Literally.)

"You just tell me if that gets too hot because it can get up to 130 degrees."

This is when I realized that, while my needs to get to another room were pretty urgent, I might just have the makings of a blog post. See how I suffer for my art?  So I stood there, not saying a word, holding the red pillow a foot from my body, and I let this dude just roll.

He put a bigger red pillow on my neck and shoulders. It also was hot. I said nothing.

"So this relieves stress in your shoulders and your back if you just snap these metal disks and get the heat out."

I live in Wisconsin. We are familiar with the concept behind hand and foot warmers.

"So where do you typically feel your stress."

BOOM!

Sometimes I find myself in such perfect moments I can't even contain it.  Where do I feel my stress?  How about STANDING IN SAM'S CLUB TRYING TO GET TO THE BATHROOM BUT A SALESPERSON KEEPS PUTTING HOT PILLOWS ON ME AND WON'T LET ME GO?

That would have been so perfect to say.

But of course I wussed out. I tried to be polite.  I said, "I feel stress in my foot and I'm not supposed to be standing on it."  (True story. I'm fairly certain I have a stress fracture in my foot.)

Sales guy was not letting me go and he clearly wasn't getting my hint.  "Oh then, you need to apply cold to it."  At this point he broke out the COLD pack and showed it to me.

Again, we are in Wisconsin.  We understand cold packs.  Up here, we use a bag of peas. Costs 89 cents and you have your veggie for dinner when you're done with it.

"Yep, cold and elevation, that's what you do for a foot."

"Yes," says I, "and I am on my way to go home and do just that but you're standing in my way."

You'd think that would do it.

Nope.

Man, I should have told him the stress line.

He extols the virtues of the cold pack, missing three women who came up to his display and acted like they were seriously interested in his product whereas I was just standing there, with no expression, still holding the hot pillow like it was a dirty diaper, and having just told him twice I could not keep standing there.

I finally was done. I was done with him and my body, no longer amused, was done with waiting.  "Look," says I, "I need to go. I need to be off my foot and I need to not be holding this any more."  I tossed the little pillow onto his table and fled.  (I was able to move quickly because the other three women, seeing how involved he was with me, decided to not wait and took off.)

Fortunately for me, I was able to get to the ladies.  Of course, I had my usual "why do you people think this is appropriate behavior in a public restroom" moment, but I've come to expect that.

On my way out of the store, I noted that Sales Guy wasn't near his display. I thought that was weird. And then I saw where he was...accosting a woman who had tried (and failed) to avoid him by  steering her cart behind the block long shelves of salty snacks. Nope, he sniffed her out, and was doing his thing twenty feet away from his display.  She was standing there, red pillow in hand, and she gave me a look of desperation.

I should have stopped to help, but when it comes to those in store display people, it's every man for himself.