She who shops faces the fury of the Mall Kiosk Gauntlet
by Lindsay Ferrier
I stride through the shopping mall, invincible. I've just scored a $149 dress from Ann Taylor for $19.99 and feel a little like Leonardo DiCaprio on the prow of the Titanic. But then, just as it did for Leo, it all comes crashing down.
"What beee-yoooo-teee-ful hair!" a woman in an apron crows, making a beeline for my 5-year-old daughter, who's trotting along beside me.
Instinctively, I find myself going into kiosk mode—a defensive technique with which every mall shopper is familiar. "Heh," I mutter through clenched teeth, pulling my daughter along beside me and quickening my step as I gaze somewhere off over the woman's head.
"Let me curl her hair with this!" she wheedles, brandishing a hot pink curling iron. "No thanks," I say as I walk, not daring to meet her eyes. The woman steps in front of us, blocking our path.
"Give me your hand," she directs. I stop short.
"What?"
"Give me your hand!" she insists, holding out the iron. As if hypnotized, I start to comply, but then freeze. I don't want to give her my hand. I don't want to hold her curling iron. I don't want to buy her curling iron. And I sure as hell don't want my daughter's hair curled with her curling iron, particularly one that's been used on the hair of other random shoppers. I mean, hello! Head lice, anyone?
"No!" I say firmly. "I'm not interested." We walk away, leaving the woman staring after us. And I'd like to say I feel victorious or even relieved. But I don't. I feel...rude.
That poor woman, a little voice fusses in my head. All she wanted was to curl your daughter's hair with her curling iron. Why couldn't you show her an ounce of kindness? And if you were really a good person, you would have bought one of her curling irons. You could have afforded it, especially if you gave up that stupid habit of buying organic produce. A little pesticide never hurt anyone. You heartless bitch.
Score one for the kiosk owner.
Being forced to play The Kiosk Game can totally spoil even the most successful shopping mall excursion. Lured into the malls by unbeatable sales, I inevitably find myself darting in and out between their kiosks like an exposed spy trying to avoid sniper fire.
"Let me clean your wedding ring!" one man says, stepping in my path. "No!" I squeak, quickly holding my left hand behind my back and edging past him. "Have you tried the ShamWow yet?" asks another one, popping out from a hiding place behind another kiosk.
"Uh-uh," I say politely, speed walking past.
"Learn the Mesozoic Beauty Secret from the Uzbekistan rainforest!" cajoles another.
"NO!"
And then I reach Armageddon. As I try to skirt the food court, a toy helicopter whizzes past my head, almost clipping one ear.
"Take cover!" I shout to my kids. My son hunches down in his stroller, while my daughter shrieks and shields her face. Everywhere we turn, men in blue shirts are launching the helicopters into the air. We run for it, barely making it out alive. Behind us, a toddler isn't so lucky. A helicopter hits him squarely in the back and he falls to the ground with a thud.
Of course, it occurs to me as I dodge kiosk workers that I'm a grown woman. What exactly am I afraid of? I've yet to experience the horror of an angry kiosk worker tagging my house with a spray-painted message that says something about the time I ignored his Dead Sea Night Nourishing Moisturizer pitch two weeks ago.
I try to remember this the next time I'm walking past the dreaded curling-iron kiosk. I'm relieved to see a man is there this time and not the woman who tried to stop me before. But as we make eye contact and his face lights up, I can tell this is going to be just as bad.
"Meesss Amerrrreeecaaa!" he crows as I approach. I blanch and he confidently moves in for the kill. But this time, I'm ready. Quickly, I take out my cell phone and pretend to dial a number. "Hello, how are you?" I ask as soon as I put the phone to my ear. The man hesitates. Clearly, there's no one on the other end of the line, and yet, cell phone etiquette dictates that he must not interrupt my "conversation." Emboldened, I talk on without even pretending to listen for a response.
"I'm floopting in the hinkney and arshwald double ooblay," I say quickly into my phone. Unfortunately, I didn't have time to come up with an actual script for this performance. Yet it seems to work. The kiosk worker's shoulders slump and he slinks off back to his cartful of curling irons.
My safe passage around the kiosk assured, I slide my phone shut and turn back to the guy with a smile. "Don't hate the player, dude," I say, grinning. "Hate the game." And with that, I saunter off down the mall, victorious at last.
Read more Suburban Turmoil at www.suburbanturmoil.com.
Email editor@nashvillescene.com.
Comments (23)
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Ha! That's hilarious! I hate those darn kiosk people too. There should be a horror movie called "The Kiosk People in the Mall of Death." Very captivating and humorous piece! I love your writing! http://craftycanine.blogspot.com/ Regards, Meredith
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Horrifying! I guess it's been awhile since I've been to the mall. Maybe 5 years? Maybe 10? Seriously. I'm proud of your bravery. But sheesh! It's sounds worse than my son's school carnival! http://jacoblawrencenewman.blogspot.com/
I used to feel guilty for politely 'no thank you'ing the kiosk jerks until I was pushing my (child-full) double stroller through the mall 6 months pregnant. I got the ubiquitous "can I ask you a question?" then it dawned on me. I was not the rude one *they* are and it was time for them to know it! "I don't know who trained you, but you should know never ever stop a woman who has two happy toddlers in her stroller and never EVER bother a pregnant woman with happy children. You have just ruined the only calm 3 minutes of my day." and walked away. I don't tell them off any more but I do now always respond with "If I had the time, I would have stopped on my own." It makes me feel so much better not compromising my value just to avoid hurting a stranger's feelings. no website to share - just really connected with your thoughts on this one.
They got me with the nail buffer the last time. I've had a shiny thumbnail for two weeks. I must know -- was the dress the same one that you tried on in your last writing on mall villains? Rebecca at Toothwhale www.toothwhale.com (I'm the same woman who accosted you at the zoo and whose son ran headfirst into your husband's cart at the grocery store one evening. Sorry.)
Hilarious! I'm a firm believer in the "no eye contact, no thank you rule." I try not to be rude but I hate being attacked by every kiosk - If I was interested I would have stopped to look... Bspeight.blogspot.com
http://bethanymariesmith.blogspot.com HA! I used to be a kiosk girl. Egads, I had to sell Christmas ornaments. In July. JULY!!! I pity them. I feel their pain. (Still power walk past 'em, though.)
Oh hell. I loathe kiosks as well. I too used to suffer from feeling rude, but after what I like to call our "Unfortunate Hermit Crab Experience", I.AM.OVER.IT. If someone from a Kiosk even breaths in my direction they get "the look". Kristi http://stepford-stories.blogspot.com
You are absolutely right! Those kiosk people can make or break a trip to the mall. I had one guy trying to rub lotion on my hands and doing the same evasive moves left me with a harsh "girl who's allergic to lotion" cat call on my way back to my car. Not fun! http://kts-house.blogspot.com/
You must have been at Opry Mills. Their kiosk people are the worst offenders I've seen in any mall. And don't forget the "electronic cigarette" guys -- "WHAT? You're smoking INside the MALL!?" Just keep as close to the walls as possible and don't make eye contact, and you just may well make it out without feeling like you're in a bazaar.
I have the "don't look; don't acknowledge their calls to you; shuffle past" thing down pat. So pat, in fact, that I almost walked right past one kiosk in my local mall where the woman actually needed some help. I finally realized that she wasn't calling us over to sell us something but to ask my super-tall husband his help in getting a shelf unattached from her kiosk. He helped, and she let us go without asking us to try her whatever-they-were things. I think that was a nice trade-off.
My question is why do kiosk vendors feel entitled--maybe even required--to accost passers-by? I mean, if I WANT a curling iron or exotic manicure, I'll come get one. I know where to find you. I hate going one place for one thing and being interrupted with a sales pitch for another. Vendors in front of the grocery store--even though they are working for great organizations--just bug me. That's one reason I commend Publix: for not allowing soliciting in front of their stores. http://www.writingmomof3.com The Writer's Block
Oh dear, those kiosks people! Seriously, I keep my eyes averted, power walk on by. Luckily most of the stores I hit at Green Hills are not located near them. Although, Sees Candy, I will gladly stop for a chocolate lolly and peruse their selection. Anything else, if I am interested I will stop. Really, I will. www.growingupandtryingtogetitright.wordpress.com
Sometimes I feel like your writing is fictional. Is it? I totally agree with the kiosk workers being annoying, we've all been there. But, a toddler going down with a thud? The kids taking cover? Seems a little exaggerated to me, which is fine. I just hope you are not trying to pass it off as the truth.
Every mall trip must be planned carefully to avoid the kiosks and, even worse, the survey takers. It's an art form to learn how to NOT make eye contact with people. I learned it from my toddler. www.vietnam-adoption-journey.blogspot.com
Man oh Man.. I cannot STAND those kiosk people! I actually got so frustrated at one the other day that I sprayed my hand sanitizer at him. Low point for me? maybe. But wow it felt good.
I hug the walls when I hit the mall. Funny article! http://sprocketswife.blogspot.com/
I always feel sorry for them, I always listen to them, and I am always angry afterward. I am, apparently, incapable of learning from my mistakes. Thanks goodness for online shopping.
I can't remember the last time I went to a mall. However, I'm prepared for them if necessary. After spending several days in Cuzco, Peru, my wife and I learned the rules of avoiding people wanting to sell you whatever. 1. No eye contact - look like you are on a mission, eyes straight on and body movement always going forward. 2. Learn to say, "No, gracias, no" like a mantra - oh, wait, here in the states it would be, "No, thanks, no," - and nothing else as you keep looking and going straight ahead. When they try to engage you in conversation ("Where you from meester?") you must stick to the script. Any response other than that will pull you into their sphere of influence. 3. If they actually stop you by touching or getting in the way, just stop, put on a firm, deadpan face (neither friendly nor unfriendly), look them in the eye and repeat, "No, thank you, no," then look back to your direction of travel and start walking. We got so good at that in Cuzco, the regular street vendors began recognizing us and leaving us alone to concentrate on the newer touristas.
Love it. I shut down kiosk folks very quickly and give them the same consideration that I give telemarketers - none. I know that it's their job and they have to do it. But i also have the right to walk away. www.myriadthatisme.blogspot.com
i think the pushiest guys are the dead sea skin guys. man, no matter how hard i try i just can't get past them. it would be better if their nail scrubbie wasn't the best one i've ever seen... myattkids.blogspot.com
I hate how cell phones are used for everything except an actual phone these days. But for this reason, I couldn't live without one. I actually wrote about how my cell phone quite possibly saved my life a month ago. http://chokingonmythoughts.blogspot.com/
I caved one time and bought one of those horrible helicopters! I though, boy my son and my brother would like those and they are BOGO- what a great deal. Except it wasn't a great deal, the first time they let them fly they went rogue and came down with a crash and broke- on the first flight! Ugh, what a waste of money! Next time I'm using your cell phone trick!! www.thejokijourney.blogspot.com
Ugh, the kiosks. The mix of annoyance and guilt. Except for the "can I see your hand?" people, which make me want to smack them and then tell them "that was my hand". Most days I am in dire need of a manicure - what makes them think I will let them see my hand?
