The Tale of The Hair-Straightening Kiosk Man and The Gullable Girl

I bought a $90 straightener today. I didn’t want to. What I wanted to do was rush through the mall to the food court where the restrooms are located, leap wildly through the door hosting a cut-out of the female shape, and fight tooth-and-nail through the long line of women so that I could stop doing the “pee dance” in public.

Despite the urgency of my situation, I somehow got suckered in by the hair-straightening kiosk man. He seemed so charming with his accent. Don’t they all…

The truth of the matter is that I cracked my cheapo-$20 Conair straightener a few weeks ago and have been snagging and snapping strands of hair in the plastic crevice ever since. Did I need a straightener? Yes. Did I need this particular straightener, sold to me by the kiosk man at the mall for a whopping $160 off of the (never stationary) original price??? Absolutely not. But he was charming and funny and although I knew I was being swindled, he even made that seem charming somehow. Impressive. Dastardly, but impressive.

And can he pick ’em! He said something to me in a manner that caused me to turn toward him, as if I had dropped something and expected to find him holding it out for me; that’s when he made the eye contact. Although I was hurried, I felt it too personal to blow him off when looking right into his face.

The downside of that is that right off the bat he knew he could put the pressure on and watch me fold after a matter of time so that I could get on my way again. In addition, I had just finished a lovely dinner and drinks with a friend and I’m sure the blush that ran from my cheeks to my chest spelled it out all too clearly for him:


He was flashy, humorous, secretive, flirtatious, teasing, grandiose, flattering, and accommodating. What he lacked in sincerity, he made up for in show.

After several dramatic price drops on his part and precious minutes spent crossing my legs as firmly as possible in attempt to hold off the flood gates on mine, I finally caved. That’s not even the worst part. I had to scoff when he smelled my credit card and told me, “You smell that? It smells like there’s more money in there!”

Did he really just say that?!? No…I’m imagining it…right?

Needless to say, I got it home and it doesn’t do nearly as good of a job as the one that he had plugged in for demonstration. In fact although the prices are “identical,” the one that I brought home with me is an entirely different model than the one he used on my hair at the kiosk.

*Sigh* I’ve been duped…

I suppose if nothing else, he has earned his just reward for being so good at what he does today.

If only my purchase was half as good as he was at selling it…

One response to “The Tale of The Hair-Straightening Kiosk Man and The Gullable Girl”

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