Listening to: Ofra Haza
While running errands today I walked by a make-up counter in a department store. It was obvious that I was not there to buy cosmetics but the salesperson, Venice, stopped me anyway. She asked if I wanted her to figure out my foundation color.
Why not? I stopped, sat in the chair and let her match one of the bottles to the color of my face. Venice has a pretty neat background. She's Jamaican and ended up in Denver via London. Anyway, She matched my color and then put make-up on the rest of my face. I didn't ask her to. I wasn't in a hurry, she was bored and stopped me. I was doing her a favor by helping her day go by faster. The store was barren; I was one of maybe ten customers shopping.
When she was done she said, "So can I package all that up for you?"
I replied, "No, I wasn't shopping for cosmetics today."
Venice then said, "Well, that's what normally happens after I spend all that time doing a person's make-up."
Holy crap! She was trying to guilt me into buying! Bite me. I fucked off...
