I checked the time and groaned.
I had 3 more hours to be perky, peppy and pleasant.
I was exhausted.
It takes an
enormous amount of energy to be nice for hours at a convention and say things in a fresh voice.
"Hey ...you need some chocolate?" asks the professor in the next
booth. He lures people to his exhibit--decreasing the drop out rate---- with pieces of chocolate.
"How many have I eaten?"
"Only two."
"Are you sure?"
"No."
"How about a sweet treat?" He says seductively to some ladies as they near his booth.
While they pick through the chocolates in the glass bowl, he offers them his brochure....he's trying to coax them onto a university website where years of research are summarized in a friendly format to help educators find the right program to help kids from dropping out of school...it's important stuff to him....and yet he offers it to the teachers without being heavy handed.
They walk away munching their chocolate bars.
"Will they read it? "
He shrugs. "If one or two read it or remember it....a few extra kids will make it. "
He says this matter-of-
fact.... as if he would accept just a few saves...but I sense the passion and knowledge all bundled up inside him.
He probably wishes he could grab each teacher and shout...."For god's sake woman ...get your principal to check out this website and do something!"
"How about a sweet treat?" he asks for 1000
th time.....and while the teacher searches the bowl...he readies his pamphlet...cans his passion.....and suggests his website.
And me? I slip into Gina-May-I-Help-You mode and teach a hundred small things about how teachers can use our store. I'm glad its not total bullshit.
An attractive man in a casual but pressed shirt says hello and asks me about my
corporation ...and how the economy is affecting the store.
Happy for new questions....I chat the man up.....blending this and that statistic and offering what I thought was a coherent guess on the economy. He asks if he can sit down....outside the booth on the chair.
"Of course of course"......
It's a little quiet now because the continuing education sessions have started.
"I like your shoes."
I 'm so startled by his remark....I look down to see what I have on my feet.
Black mules...of modest heel with an open back.
"What school district are you from?"
"Oh I'm not a teacher..... I build churches. I'm staying at the hotel next door and I was walking through the hall and thought you looked like an interesting and attractive woman."
I blushed from my mules to my ear lobes.
Good god, I've been chatting up this man like he was a school superintendent or something and he just a guy that straggled in off the street.
"My mother would like those shoes."
Oh ho.....(Gina's alarm is going off...he's in his mid forties with salt and pepper hair....no ring and he's talking about his mother.)
"Where did you get them? She has bunions."
My mental alarm is now going
auuuuuwoooogaah.
I write down the name of the store and where it's located.
I try to make come-rescue-me-eyes to the professor next to me....but he misreads my intentions and offers me another piece of chocolate.
"Women just don't know how to dress like women anymore."
Oh ho.
His phone rings...he nods and takes the call.
Thank you gods of the universe.... my cell phone rings too...and I jump up and walk up the stairs and out into the lobby. Screw the booth...I'm going to hide for a while....next thing you know he'll be want to smell my feet or something.
When I return... he's gone but I'm still off my game.....Little miss information....chatting up some random guy....oh boy.....I actually consider packing up and leaving but I remember Friday is only a half day session....and since I've already been supremely caught off
guard...lightening can't strike again.
~~~~
The professor and I arrive early Friday morning and agree we are dog tired.
But each time someone passes....we turn on the charm.
"I know your spiel by heart." I tell him....
"Well I'm going to work for your bookstore after this."
Church builder with a bunion-ed mother and fetish for my shoes does not return.
I am relieved.
People start packing up and I head off to the car. I've brought a pair of jeans and old shoes plus a small handcart.
I tear my stockings as I pull the hand cart out of my trunk so I decide to change clothes now. I'm in the back of the garage and there's no one around.
I slip off silky stockings... pull my skirt down....and then what the hell......I pull my top off and toss my sweatshirt on.
Not quite zipped up and re-arranged ...I look around ......and step out of the car....pantie rearrangement...bra rearrangement...zip up....clogs on....okie dokey.
But I have a weird feeling....and quickly look around.....half expecting church builder to pop up between some cars.....but there's nothing......except for a little mechanical sound.
I look up.....
and blush from my clogs to my ear lobes.
Oh well....
I wave at the security camera and grab my hand cart....
all I can say is....
I was wearing good underwear and I've had my convention baptism.
~~~~~~~~~~~~