More than we bargained for

Remember what Bilbo used to say:
“It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door.
You step onto the road,
and if you don’t keep your feet,
there’s no knowing where you might be swept off to.” 
— Frodo Baggins, Fellowship of the Ring.

We were reminded of the truth of this quote just this past Thursday, when Megan, Laurent and I set out on a simple shopping trip to procure a pair of dress shoes.  Although we generally pick up whatever happens to be available — and cheap — at Payless or Walmart, there are times when it pays to shop at a slightly higher-end venue, especially when looking for shoes that are, shall we say, outside the normative size range.  On this particular trip, we headed for the Arrowhead Mall, where a Clarks store is located.  And, as rare an event as a trip to the mall is for our family, we were enjoying the relaxed mid-week atmosphere as we strolled along, taking in the sights, sounds, and smells, as we rode the escalator down to our destination on the lower level.  The Clarks clerks were very solicitous, and Megan was delighted when she left the store carrying a bag containing a box, containing a snazzy new pair of shooties.

As we walked out the door, we chatted as we ambled around the kiosk that stood in our way, when right into our path stepped this vision of beauty, this exquisite creature who could have been Eva Green’s twin sister –

  – holding out a teaspoon heaped with some kind of white granular substance.  It was an ambush.  Speaking enticingly in a beguiling French accent, she virtually grabbed my hand and dumped the spoonful of what was apparently dead sea salt, whipped out a basin, and began instructing me to rub my hands together, all while lining up the two girls each with their own basin.  I had to admit, the treatment was spectacular – my hands have never felt so soft.  I was altogether bemused, as I watched her work her magic, cajoling, flattering, seducing in that lovely lilting voice as she built up to her ultimate sales pitch … something about two sets of sea salt and shea butter for the price of one (“a special deal, only for you, and don’t tell my supervisor”) — for the low low price of $150… she tried several different tacks with me as I resisted, always coming back to “You deserve it.  You need to spoil yourself.  What are you going to spend your money on, these children?  You should pamper yourself!  You look so young, you need to take good care of yourself!”  I finally pulled the plug on her as I got up to leave, saying I still had to buy food for my family that day.  When she finally admitted defeat, it was startling how quickly she switched off the charm – like turning off a tap.

As we walked away, all three of us were reeling a bit from the encounter.  We continued to review what had just happened as we headed out of the mall — the enticing, the flattery, the words dripping with honey, all coming from the lips of this exotic beauty, all designed to overwhelm, and separate me from my good sense and my money.  It hit me with a blinding clarity, and I exclaimed, “You know who that was?  That woman was the devil!”  Perhaps not literally, but really, isn’t that his M.O.?  Appearing in a beautiful form, filled with flattery and playing on our desires for temporal satisfaction, all for the sake of leading us down the path of destruction.  Her appeals to my vanity, if successful, would have wrought disaster upon my budget, especially if I could somehow be convinced that she was selling me something that, on a continuing basis, I couldn’t live without.

When I finished relating the story to Paul at home later, I concluded, “Ultimately, it isn’t going to be soft, smooth skin that gets me into heaven.”

His reply was pithy, and to the point:

“Probably just the opposite…”