I was reading up for my new job as the heat beat down upon me. It was in the mid-90s, enough to cause a rivulet of sweat to run down my sternum as I lay on the chaise lounge.
I'd been working in the garage and the door was let open to let the fumes and heat out. From the front I heard a voice say, loudly and trying to get someone's attention: "hello"? Shit, I thought. Maybe I'll just sit here and ignore him, whoever he was. I wasn't in the mood to have another awkward encounter with my neighbors. I was still new in the neighborhood and everybody was still adjusting.
The dog's sudden attention garageward was enough to get me moving, as did the "Heyheyhey!" the voice said from the front. This is the sound you make when confronted with a large strange dog. "Hey" is always in there someplace as if it will get the attention of the gods who will intervene somewhere between your leg and the beast's slathering maw. Having owned this particular beast for a number of years, I've heard this particular tone a number of times.
He made the closing line, I demurred ("I could never pay that much for a cleaner"), he redoubled his efforts. "Well, you know it's really not that expensive when you consider..." blah blah blah. It's the dance. I say no, he has something to overcome my objection. I'll say no again, he'll start again at which point I'm free to tell him that I've got to go because I left my mower running or something. Game over. But before I could get to the second no he'd started in again on the marvelous benefits of the product. I could also use it to wash the dog, apparently. Now not just disparaging the polish on my tires (now with two clean spots) but the hygiene of my very pet. "Totally safe!" He said. "Why, you could drink it!"
Suddenly, that was it. Here was a guy who'd spent his day trying to sell his wares door to door in his nice clothes with his nice bag. It was goddamned hot out and sweat stood out on his dark skin, though not as well as the orange cleaner now trailing down his left cheek in a river of foam. He looked at me expectantly, breathlessly as I tried to digest what I'd just seen. I simply couldn't believe it.
Goddamn, it was safe to drink.
Damned if that didn't make the sale, though. That was the funniest goddamned thing I'd seen in a long time and the man deserved a sale for that, not to mention the fact that he was so determined that he was going to spray this stuff which probably tasted like shit all over himself to make a point.
The cleanser cost my $5, I figure. That's fair market value. The $35 in markup went for someone so committed to the sale that he was willing to stand in some fool's front yard when it was about a million degrees out and drink down some orange cleanser.
