The Sales Champion

The Sales Champion - A Very Short Story

I had no specific reason to visit the exhibition, but then again, fortunately, I seldom need one. This time I would use the fact that it would be raining cats and dogs soon, and I wanted to stay dry today as my excuse. There was really nothing there for me as a writer since it seemed to be some kind of building materials expo. But then again, maybe I could use some of the latest new materials in one of my stories. That's one of the advantages of being a writer: we can show up anywhere, anytime, just by saying "There could be a story in this." And the crazy thing is that most people tend to believe it, often trying to make us feel more than welcome! Even if their stuff is utterly boring, it seems they need, or at least want, to believe someone else might be interested in it. I once was even heartily welcomed at a bookkeepers' reunion class. My excuse for that one was the bitter cold, as I remember correctly. But every now and then an unplanned visit to an unknown destination (I suddenly wonder - can it still be a destination as it is unknown?) just drops an unexpected experience right into your lap, just screaming in your face: "Write a story about me!" 

So, when some early droplets started to hit my head, I decided that a quick look inside probably wouldn't hurt at all, and maybe they would even serve reasonably good coffee to their visitors.

When I opened the door and found my way in, my welcome proved to be even better than I had hoped. In a small corridor, I was welcomed by a sweet young lady. At least, I think she probably was sweet since she had an inviting smile on her face above which sparkled lively green eyes. For the occasion, she wore a (French?) maid outfit: a short black dress, black stockings, and a white apron and cap with her long shiny black hair tucked up in a knot under it, her ponytail hanging out of the hole of the cap.

"Welcome to the fair," she said, "can I offer you some refreshment?"

"Well," I answered, "as long as it's not another rain pour, I imagine you surely can. In fact, that would be more than welcome," and I lifted a glass off the tray she was presenting, after which she put it back on a side table standing close to the wall and turned to me again.

"Were you looking for anything or anyone special, or do you just want to browse around?" she then asked. Though I surely would have loved to browse her all over, I reckoned she was talking about the fair.

"I have been looking for both something and someone special my entire life so far," I answered, "but the harder I seek, the less I seem to find, so it might be better to just look around a bit first."

"OK, the hall on your left is aimed at advances in conventional building materials, while the right one is showing contemporary building blocks and prefab materials."

"Building blocks are something I am somewhat familiar with," I told her, "so I guess I will turn right here. Thanks for your welcome. I think you must have been born a hostess."

She winked, then said, "thank you for your compliment, and then to think you have hardly seen me in action at all. Why don't you take my card? That way, you can always give me a ring should the need arise." She then handed me a business card with her picture on it and the text "Hostess for all your special occasions" and a phone number printed on it.

"Thank you," I said, putting it in my jeans' pocket, "but I'm afraid I'm not really a party animal, so I probably won't be using your service any time soon."

"You'll never know," she answered with a cheeky smile while taking my now empty glass and putting it on the tray on the side table, and then opening the door to the hall on the right for me, "It's not only for parties you know, haven't you noticed it's for all your special occasions?"

As soon as I had stepped inside the hall, before I could even look around, I felt both a hand on my arm and a deep voice drifting into my ears. "I was wondering, could I interest you in some quality work wear?"