on the way back from the north today we stopped at a shopping mall to get some of the equipment I need for our hiking trip soon, and wandered into a shoe shop where I discovered my only joy in shopping – a salesman with a sense of humor.  I told him I need hiking shoes and he offered me Hokka.  “I don’t like the look of Hokka shoes,” I said, and he responded, “That’s funny, because my wife says they’re her favorite shoes.”  

He went up and down the steep ladder, brought me a pair that were too small, and went back for a half a size larger.  I admired his dedication and he replied, “Shoes are my only love.” “What about your family?” I asked.  “Oh, I’m not married,” he quickly responded, looking me straight in the eye.

You know I bought the shoes,  but as I was debating about socks, he began to show signs of impatience, “Hurry up, my wife’s in labor,” he said, without batting an eye.  And we all laughed together. 

There are people who use language for communication of facts, and others who use it as a means of communication of emotion, of friendship or enmity.  This guy knew I was not believing him from the beginning, but he managed to sell me a pair of shoes I didn’t initially want by communicating in spite of the facts.  It’s a bargaining tool I find is really perfected in the oriental culture – and reminds me of Scheherazade.

And the shoes are really great.