Two Feet of Personal Space on All Sides, Please

Yesterday I was at the Nashville Farmer’s Market having lunch with some lovely girlfriends. We fanned out to go get our respective lunches (the Farmer’s Market has all sorts of different eateries in a food court area). I was standing in line to get a gyro, and these two women walked by. They both turned and stared at me — in a way that made me think they must think that they knew me, but I didn’t recognize them .

I looked away, then looked back and they were still staring. WHAT, what do you want.

I turned my full attention to the menu, and was suddenly startled as one of the women was standing RIGHT in my face. She grabbed my hands, in one of those creepy double handshakes (you know, that politicians are so fond of).

Except, her hands were more on top and bottom of mine — holding them rather than shaking them. She introduced herself, but I have no idea what she said because I was trying to figure out why she was holding my hands.

She said, “Honey. I would love to introduce myself to you.”

<<Oh goodness.>>

“I work for Mary Kay…”

<<Oh thank God.>>

“Let me stop you right there, ma’am. I have several friends who sell Mary Kay, so…..”

“Well, are they servicing you?”

<<We don’t hold hands if that’s what you mean.>>

“I don’t really use Mary Kay — but, if I did, I’m saying I already have a dealer.”

<<Pretty sure they don’t call them dealers, but maybe she’ll think I’m a shady seed and go away if I use the word “dealer.” >>

“Well, have you ever had a facial — your skin is beautiful.”

<<I’m sweating — oh lawd, why am I sweating?” >>

“Yeah — I guess so. YES. I’m good. Really, thank you.”

<<We’re still holding hands. How long has it been? Like 34 minutes?>>

“Alright then dear, well — here’s my card, just in case.”

<<She just dropped her card IN my purse. Like, I can’t even see it. It went to the bottom. I’ll find it in six months and have to relive this whole thing.>>

End Scene.

WHAT just happened? Is this why I couldn’t hack it in Aflac sales? Because I missed the course on hand molestation tactics?

I’m normally not a nervous person, but combine the hand-holding with the fact that she was about 9 inches from my face the entire time she spoke, and I was ready to fake a seizure to get out of there.

Ah well. Sometimes you’re the creeper, sometimes you’re the creepee.

XOXO,
Jenn

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