Ew! Mommy Nasty! - the holiday Kiosk Sniper Story

My kids still ask me to tell the story of "that one time at the mall."

I am only too happy to oblige, and it goes a little something like this:

I was at the mall with the spawn, heading toward the exit when a woman approached me. I know I never should have made eye contact, but she wasn't standing right near her kiosk, so I was caught completely off guard when this woman I'd never met before stepped out and asked me what brand of hair straightener I used. I had flat ironed my hair that day (a mistake I won't be making again) and I totally thought she was complimenting me for real. This woman then beckoned me over to her little shop of horrors.  I blame being hungry and tired on my inability to say no, because I followed her like an obedient lap dog.  You would have thought she had enticed me with a fistful of bacon. Mmm...bacon.

She led me to her stand, where I thought I'd hear a little blurb about how great this new hair straightener is and instead I found myself with a gigantic glob of Dead Sea Salt Exfoliant on my hand. 

"Let us rub that in", she said quickly.  

Holding my hand over a white plastic bowl, she played twenty questions with me, asking me my name, how old I was, if I had a husband, how long we've been married and whether or not I was gainfully employed while she exfoliated the everloving crap out of my arm.  Oh, she was good, this one.  She had me right where she wanted me: wet and trapped.  I knew she had a towel hidden there somewhere, but I couldn't see it and I wasn't too keen on the idea of walking off with one hand covered in this weird Dead Sea Salt scrub, so I remained her captive customer.  She then showed the children and me just how terrific this product was as she hosed my hand off with a spray bottle of water.  

Then...it got gross. And weird. And actually sort of rude.

She laughed loudly as she told my children, "Look how NASTY Mommy is!" and how "Mommy need a shower!", while surveying the depths of the white plastic bowl which was now full of water and my dead skin.  

Um...ick...and WHAT?!  Did she just say that, really? 

I think we were all more than a little taken aback that she actually said those words in her sales pitch.  "Nasty" and "needs a shower".  Yup.  Well, that'll sell a bundle of this shit, right?  Absolutely.  Give me 100 units right now!

I was offered a few backhanded compliments for my trouble as she lathered my arm up with her magical moisturizing lotion: "Your oily skin is a gift from God."   My what is a huh??    Lady, are you kidding me with this? 

Mesmerized by the audacity, I stayed planted on the spot to listen to what else she found hideous about my apparently troll-like skin and greasy, gunk-filled pores, while my children stood by and helplessly watched the drama unfold, their eyes big as saucers.

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore.  I had accepted her free presentation with good humor and didn't bloody her lip when she basically told me I was too grotesque to be walking around with normal people.  It was time to end this before one of us got hurt.  

In an effort to bring about the end of my Trial by Esthetics, I asked, "How much?"

I don't know how they train these people for this stuff, but they do have a knack for it. We got the rundown of a professional salesclerk and were told that the skin of a princess could be all mine for the "low price" of $250.  Jeez, for THAT, I could buy actual princess skin and make myself a princess suit!  

She sensed my apprehension and suddenly, as if by magic, the Discount Gnome came along and bippity-boppidy-booped the entire line of skin care down to $125.  I don't know how she did it!  Amazing!

Still too pricey for my blood, I declined to purchase her wares.  Maybe her brother needed a new kidney or maybe it was costing her too much to keep fuzzy Uggs on her little feetsies this winter, because she was not giving up.  She was so intent on making the sale, that she whipped out that magical Discount Gnome again and this time the price poofed from $125 to a mere $39.99 for two of the four miracle working products with the additional promise that I could come back tomorrow and get the other two for $15 off the price. 

Wait, what?  Was that $15 off the original price or off the discounted price? 

Ah, forget it.  Doesn't matter anyway.  Somehow I managed to peel myself from her evil clutches and escape with my children, my one soft arm and what was left of my dignity.  

Later, while I was at the grocery store, I bought a jar of really good-smelling dead sea salt exfoliant and a bottle of super-hydrating princess skin lotion (probably not made with real princesses). 

The price?  Just twelve dollars. 

Eff you, Kiosk Sniper.


(I should have punched her in the throat, right? Tell me the truth:
What would you have done if it was you?)