Yesterday was such a beautiful day and I needed to return an online order to Anthropologie, so decided to drive out to La Cantera for a sunshine walk with Luci. 

Little kids were stopping me to pet the doggie, my defenses were down, and I was taken by surprise by the rush of one of those kiosk sales people who appear out of nowhere and press a silver package of moisturizer into your hands.

(I later realized she was standing in the doorway of a fancy store--no customers--to pounce on passersby.)

I know to avert my eyes and walk faster when I see these kids-to-me selling whatever they are selling, but I didn't see this one coming.

She really liked me and could tell I was a smart person; she loved my dog; I reminded her of her mother; her products were in high demand, organic and made in the U.S.A.  The effects of these miracle products would be immediate and all my friends would notice the drastic changes.  

She glanced around pretending to avoid being heard by her co-workers and whispered: "I will tell you a secret but you have to promise not to tell.  Today only, I can give you my employee discount...."

Just today, she said, she could drop the price of the $1200 bottle of eye cream to $399 AND throw in two more products for free AND I would get a free consultation with the skin expert of the world.  As an employee of the company, she had had to wait six months to see him, but as it happened--my lucky day--he was in the store today.  Today only.  

Suddenly said expert appeared to help her close the sale.

"You know who he is?" she asked, her eyes flashing excitement to deliver the news.

No idea.  Most valuable player of some team?  Idol judge?  Movie star?  I give....

"He's a regular on Dr. Oz!" 

That was enough to send me doing my best limpy impression of a run.  I had just read that Dr. Oz had thrown his hat in the ring for Senate, that he was distancing himself from those awful "elites" and their awful mask mandates.

I wouldn't buy a peanut from your star skin expert of the world is what I wish I'd said.  But instead, I made a fast exit to the parking lot and was out of there, just me and my dog and my wrinkles.