There is something about me that draws salesmen like flies. Yesterday, I went to CompUSA to buy a giftcard for another of my son’s friends. I no sooner entered the store when I was approached by a salesman.

“Can I help you with something?” he asked. He was an older gentleman.

“No, I’m just looking.” I smiled at him before I returned my attention to the Mac software sitting on the racks. Like the bookstore, I have a hard time leaving a computer store without buying something.

I moved to another aisle, where I spotted MacJournal, an offline blogging program. Before I had the chance to pick it up and look at it, another salesman appeared. This one was a young kid with Latino looks.

“May I help you?” he said.

I picked up the software and said, “Have you ever used this?”

“No, but people come in here all the time to ask for it or buy it.”

“Thank you.”

I carried the box across the store, where the PC section was and began looking at DVD movies. The Skeleton Key jumped out at me and made me grab it. I swear!

Next, I went to the printer section. Reams of paper lined the top of the shelves. I grabbed a couple. Another salesman approached me. It was another kid, with longer hair than his colleague and a smattering of acne on his face.

“May I help you?”

What is up with these guys? “I think I’m done,” I said with a smile. I’d yet to get the giftcard, but I knew those were up by the register.

“Well, then let me help you with those,” he said, grabbing a shopping basket before he freed the items I held in my arms.

After he placed the items in the basket, he walked with me up to the cash register. Of course, there was only one cashier, who was helping another customer. The salesman still had my stuff and kept talking to me.

I couldn’t help wondering if these guys thought I was a shoplifter. Perhaps it was because I’d arrived too early and had to sit out in the car until they opened. Maybe they thought I was casing the place. Or, perhaps they didn’t like my black sweat outfit and/or the lack of makeup on my face.

“Have you ever used MacJournal?” I asked him.

“No, but I’ve heard good things about it.” The kid told me that he used LiveJournal for his blog and asked me if I knew how to back it up. I told him that I didn’t, and gave him suggestions on how to back up his blog.

I grabbed a giftcard before I could forget, along with a tin holder, and set them in the basket. We kept talking about blogging as I continued to wonder why I was receiving this special attention. Finally, the cashier finished with the customer ahead of me.

The salesman gave me the basket, said his goodbyes, and then left. As the cashier began ringing up my purchase, she saw the tin can and started to tell me that it would cost extra. I’m not sure why, but she changed her mind.

I left the store with my purchase, wondering if I should feel insulted or impressed by all this attention. My gut instinct tells me that they thought I was a shoplifter, which I find both funny and upsetting.

The only time I ever used the five-finger discount was when I was eleven, when I lifted several packs of gum as my mom was paying for her groceries. The resulting guilt made me realize that I was not suitable for a life of crime.

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