The sales gal was slicker than buttered shit, essentially posing as one of the hotel staff and using a lot of the same phrases and gestures that I do to gain people's confidence quickly. It was completely transparent to me, but I was nevertheless impressed. This was shaping up to be a fun little bit of completely ethical social sport for me, dodging and parrying attempts to pressure me into buying something I could not and should not afford while maintaining a smile - and forcing them to reward me for wasting their time. In my mind, the game was afoot.
On the other hand, Katie seemed euphoric, both at the prospects of the gifts and the looming potential of owning a "Little Piece of Vegas." I felt a twinge of frustration in anticipation of having to disappoint her later on that day. Katie is a warm, kind, fun and trusting person - attributes which have both secured my eternal affection and caused me to underestimate her on multiple occasions. This was one of them.
So after paying them 50$ (as a "down payment" on the gifts should we blow them off,) and hopping on the chartered bus, we were whisked away to a remote patch of Mohave just outside the Vegas city limits, to an unremarkable three story condo complex right near what looked like a shitty part of town. I was asked my profession and Katie (not me,) told them I was a cop which was at this point completely untrue, (I was an unemployed student.) They did this ostensibly to match me up to a salesperson. The "cop" lie yielded an 80 year old woman wearing a plunging V-neck blouse that revealed an open heart surgery scar. Her voice and mannerisms were kind, withering, and slightly weak. I realize I was supposed to feel sorry for her, and out in the world I would. But given the context, I was the one who was ostensibly the prey and she the predator. Any compassion between us would have to occur another time and place.
They sat us down at a small table with our sales rep, whose proper name I had already forgotten, though I had assigned her the moniker "zipper." (I "name" people immediately upon meeting them so I can remember things they do later.) We watched a stupid video, which I laughed at openly. The presentation itself was made by a lispy, fat, young southern man who explained his father had been an earnest country doctor before dying unexpectedly in an accident, and the only thing that kept his lovely mother sane afterwards was the timeshare vacation his father, Dr. Slippinfall, had the foresight to purchase.
As he laid the story out, Katie and I guffawed loudly and heartlessly like a booze hound and his bar hag at a comedy club. At one point, Slippinfall Jr. went around the room and directed each of us to kiss their partner. When he arrived at our table, Katie snapped "This is my brother!" and Slippinfall's piggy little eyes got narrower and piggier for a split second. His irritation piercing through his veneer made me laugh so hard I could barely stay in my chair, and the presentation concluded soon after.
Were were led to a small cubicle, and Katie excused herself to go use the restroom. Zipper sat down at the desk across from me, square shouldered, brow lowered with a slight scowl, her voice no longer withering and weak. "You're busting my balls here, kid." She said flatly. It was no longer kind, but it was incredibly honest and quite refreshing actually.
"You're wasting your time with me." I replied, not bothering to conceal my smirk. "You should take the rest of the afternoon off."
She leaned back in her chair. "I'm going to. You tell my boss you make less than $30,000 per year and your wife is a homemaker. And I am going to go home and watch my soaps." As we exited the room her posture went from strong and swaggering to hunched over with tiny steps. She had put her "little old lady" mask back on. She brought us to a desk near the exit and told the man in a three-piece suit "These two were not able to complete the tour." We were handed our gifts and promptly put back on the bus. As we waited to depart, the other attendees were loudly complaining they had been there for up to four hours having their arms twisted. We had arrived less than 40 minutes prior, and I suspected the people who had come on our bus had a long afternoon in front of them. The last thing I saw before we pulled away was Zipper getting into her Mercedes. She waived and winked at me through the window.
Blue Man Group was awesome, and we saw The Rat Pack with some of the other vouchers we received. I kept the tokens as a prize, and we spent an extra night in Vegas. More than worth it. I also learned that my sweet wife is only without guile when it comes to me. She can dish it out every bit as well as I can given the right forum.
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