I set out, self assured. No matter how good this salesman was I would not bend! I would return the item and demand the refund.
I entered the store and along with my brother (who came along to carry the large cumbersome item), marched right up to the counter and rang the bell, as per the sign request. Slowly, very slowly, the bent form of an older man came to the counter. "I am here to return this - it was all a mistake, _______ doesn't really need this, nor can they afford it just at this time."
He wasn't pleased. He was borderline angry in fact, "Return it? Why? Have you even tried it?"
"That's not the point." I countered, holding strong, "it is an unnecessary expense at this time, and I need to return it."
"But it is very good quality!" he insisted.
I realized at this point that honey rather that steel was needed to make this return.
Changing veins I asked, "Your accent, is it Scandinavian, or German, or..."
He paused for just a moment.. "I'm from Norway orginally.."
"Norway, how nice, it's so beautiful there, a good friend of mine is from Norway, I went to her wedding there it was so nice."
It worked; his posture changed, a smile lit his face, making him, quite possibly, one of the cutest old men you'd ever lay eyes on. We chatted comfortably about his latest trip there, my trip there, what he'd seen, what I'd seen. His home town that I had happened to visit. After a while he sighed and said, "well I better try and refund this for you then, you have the receipt?"
I did and I produced it promptly... and offered up my friends debit card to credit back the amount of the purchase. He took it awkwardly. Not awkwardly in the sense that he was loath to give a refund, but awkwardly as if debit cards were wholly unfamiliar to him... almost with a sense of awe attached. He shuffled closer to the machine and lifted his glasses to try and see the small screen. "Now let me see, if I can figure this one out.." he punched random buttons to no effect. He pulled out the user guide.
The callous part of me wondered if this were a stall tactic... an attempt to make me say - 'oh this is too much trouble never mind.' I waited.... he adjusted the book trying to focus on the small print. "I just got this machine, this week, " he smiled, "so I'm still just a beginner." I melted a little. My brother John, who was there watching this whole exchange, melted a little. "Do you know anything about these kind of machines?" He asked me helplessly.
I assured him I had used them before and I could possibly help. so he handed me the user guide, which i quickly read, and showed me his passcode (again my armor weakened) and I completed the refund transaction... all the while dying inside to think that I quite possibly took away his big sale for the week. He stood there partly in awe of my technological wizardry, and partly pityingly... "it's such a shame... it was such good quality. It's what I have at home... it is the very best... it's just so sad." I could have cried at this point. Gone was the angry old man in his place was a sweet man, who pitied me and my friend... we couldn't afford it... maybe someday...
John and I left that tiny, quiet store heads down, shamed... intent on someday going back and buying 3 of the very best, top of the line, quality pieces. I was so glad now that we could at least leave him a little money for his trouble... but I wished I could have wrapped him up and put him in my pocket, and care for, cook and clean for, him and his wife (who I can only assume is equally as old and sweet as he). By the time we got home we were in agreeance. He is quite possibly the best salesman in the world. By the end of the visit, I, a stingy and careful shopper, almost walked out with an item I couldn't afford and didn't need. If he isn't a millionare it can only be because there is a lack of foot traffic in his tiny shop... because John, myself, and our friend are all agree... it is nigh impossible not to want to buy something from the cute little man in the shop around the corner.
