I'm in the market for a new couch. As a consequence, I've lately found myself in the company of furniture salesmen. It is a poor match of dispositions.
"You don't have to follow me around. I just want to browse," I wistfully said to yesterday's.
"Oh, I don't mind."
Two minutes and several sales pitches later
"Really. Please don't hover over me. If I have questions, I'll find you."
He moves exactly 4 feet further away and acts as though he's...dusting, I guess. I walk 200 feet, across the entire showroom. Within a minute, he's dusting behind an armoire 15 feet away.
"Seriously. This will go a lot better if you don't stalk me."
He pretends he's a part of the armoire.
"What, are you afraid that I'm going to stuff an ottoman down my pants and steal it?"
I finally make my break for the front door. From the car, I see him returning to the sales desk, shaking his head disgustedly and waving one hand at the door, seemingly saying that the customer wasn't a serious buyer.
And with no further adieu, that buyer is taking a day off to go couch shopping. Somewhere else.