Cheap Business Cards

Oh my goodness. Just oh my goodness. Phoenix is too small.

I attended a design meeting tonight. They did this thing where numbers were pulled from a bowl. If your number was picked, up you went to present submitted work. (Apparently this isn’t how the meetings are usually run. People seemed a wee bit flustered.) A big guy gets called first.

So as the first guy is standing there I’m scrunching my nose. I’m second row and he looks *really* familiar.

Then BAM. It’s this dude who tried to sell a nutrition program with his “wife”. I’ve traded hours for trade (crazy discount!) with an upscale clothing boutique. You meet people. It’s happy hour without the booze.

The story he spun at the boutique was one of wealth. He and his wife popped in per recommendation of the neighboring business owner. They spent forever (like years) looking at things that could never fit this woman.

As I was there to provide consulting hours the owner asked if I wouldn’t mind taking a photo for them. (That’s still in my text history. Keep that thought.) I thought it was odd at the time. The only person excited by the photo taking was the owner. I figured I must have missed part of the conversation.

They made a production of hard selling religious beliefs and dietary changes. This was the way. This is how The Lord made them healthier. (The man is big. The woman is less big. Talking winded them. I’m all for religion. If we’re at church together.)

Whatever they were selling was great, I could have cared less, but I had gone in to speak to the owner. She thought she had a client. A potential client. I had to wait. So I did. (Besides I was having dinner across the street that night. The boutique has wifi. I would be ok.)

They were not so pleased when the boutique owner shared how much weight I had lost.

She said, “Show them pictures! On your phone!”

Out came the fat photos. I was tanking their sales pitch and they knew it. There’s no rocket science to modifying health and well being. Eat well – but healthy when you can – and toss in some exercise. Stop selling me magic powders.

So this guy is up there tonight and pointing to presentation screen. Like a pastor on television his arms are in motion. He points to his business card designs. As he says, ” I made these for my wife.”

The business cards include a photo of a woman.

The lightbulb goes off.
My mouth drops open. (Again, second row.)

“Maybe he has been married and divorced?” I think.

“Widowed?”

He continues with this story of his wife.

“She loves these cards. Mwah mwah mwah.”

[… And mwah mwah mwah. He provides some other personal details about his pop. A retired cop. I write that down. That’s not part of the old story…]

No past tense. I ask my neighbor if the dude has been to previous meetings. She says no.

Other people present. Interesting stuff. I meet nice folks. I see That Dude while I’m in the building lobby. And then I see “the wife”. And by that I mean, the wife from the store.

I try to say hello. This is a networking event. They seemed in a rush to leave.

So out in the parking lot I flip open my phone. Find the photo that I had texted The Dude. He said he would come back for the only top that fit. (Of course he never did. I know because I wanted to trade for that hand painted silk.) The name in my phone is not the same as used during today’s presentation.

I wonder what he was selling tonight. I wasn’t on that side of the room.

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