Dear Mr. Auctioneer,
Here's the thing: I'm going to need my large sum of money back please.
You see I was all swept up in the moment of the evening and I'd had several glasses of that white wine they were serving by the bucketful. I was wearing my favorite summer dress, strappy sandals and a spritz of my best perfume. The babysitter and the kids were cozy at home watching a movie. There under that tent of yours, the breeze was coming off the ocean, there was shrimp on toothpicks being passed around, and my husband was like a movie star in his tie and sear sucker jacket and gorgeous proud smile. We saw friends old and new, we drank lots of wine, and it became crystallized in that moment that summer is here and I don't have to work for a loooong time.
Also, truth be told, I liked the feel of the paddle with my number on it going up in the air when you were saying, "Do I hear blahblah?" with that baritone auctioneer voice of yours. The ocean wind was blowing my hair just a bit, and I thought I looked pretty good with that wine in my system and that paddle in my hand. It felt sort of powerful and strong and decisive when I was waving that paddle with the number 242 on it. I'm not too proud to admit that I loved it, sir. And at that moment, I loved you and your command of the situation too.
And when you looked through that sea of anticipatory people, right at me, and said to everyone under that fancy tent that the item was "SOLD! to number 242, the lady's bid!" I almost crapped my pants.
Sir, it was the wine and the illusion of power doing the bidding that night. So, if you please? Could I have my large sum of money back? We all make mistakes, right?
I know, I know. The money goes to Hospice. It will help families in their time of need. There you go again with the hypnotic way of yours and that singsong blahblah voice you have. Stop it, please. I'm not drunk anymore, and I don't feel even moderately sexy without my number 242 paddle in my hands so you can save your sweet-talking for someone vulnerable and needy. I'm past that now.
I will gladly accept cash, check or credit card refund because I'm flexible like that.
Thank you so much for your understanding.
Yours in learning and growth,
-Susie (#242)
Saturday, June 20, 2009
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15 comments:
Did you at least get something good?
My question exactly! What the heck was your prize?
Well, I bet you *did* look good with the paddle and the dress and the ocean and the whatnot.
I don't think you're going to get any money back soon so I hope your "prize" can be put to good use. Give us a clue - no, just tell us!
I liked your description of the wine, breeze and fine feathers. Yes, they do lead us astray at times...
Alright! It's a week in a timeshare. I guess there are over 4000 choices all over the world, but we don't know the details yet. We're assuming, when we call the donors to find out, they'll inform us that we're limited to Akron or Pittsburg or where we already live or something like that. It would serve me right for my lack of paddle impulse control.
Oops!
Folks, do not let her loose at Christie's!
Maybe you could make your own paddle to have at home. You know, for when you just needed a little pick-me-up? You could have the kids auction off some cookies or toys or something.
I too hope you got yourself something good. I kinda doubt you'll get a refund.
Yes, but when you are sitting at that timeshare - wherever it might be - you'll still feel like you "won" the (not free) vacation. Maybe?
Yah.
Stayed home.
Ugh.
Booze and Auctions......Opium and calculus.....
Just a couple of things that don't go Well together.
that was HYSTERICAL!!!
Dear Police Officer- Please release my friend. She did NOT mean to kill the auctioneer. She meant to shoot herself.
xoxox
Oh no! I can relate though...I get brainwashed by infomercials on a daily basis, so I'm no stranger to buyer's remorse. What did you win???
I don't think you're going to get any money back soon s
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This is too funny. I want to go to an auction and feel powerful!
Well a timeshare week sounds like a pretty good prize. Better than a kick in the teeth, as my grandpa used to say.
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