Dirty Old Men

 

A few years ago I met two dirty old men at a fundraiser for a senior center.

Let me explain.  I was asked to be a vendor at a Grand Opening for a new senior center in a very ritzy area of Long Island. Only four vendors were chosen for the event and I was honored to be included. The event was held in a beautiful old mansion on the north shore of Long Island. All of the vendors were in the bar room. I’m assuming they put us there so the attendees would walk past us to buy drinks, and then purchase from us.

The other three vendors were women, one potter and two jewelry designers. We were all behind our tables talking to people, when a man walked up to me and asked if I sold soap to dirty old men.  We both laughed and he went on his way. I realized he had a problem when over the course of the evening, her asked me an additional nine times if I sold soap to dirty old men. (Trust me, I counted).  I laughed each time, and so did the other vendors. He clearly had some short term memory problems. He was a sweet dirty old man.

When it was slow we were able to walk around the room and when I did, a second gentleman would come over to me and try to put his hand on my derrière.  Whenever he came into the room, the other vendors were quick to let me know. I’d make a bee line for the protection of my table so he couldn’t reach me. I wasn’t sure about this guy, did he have some issues or was he just pretending? Either way, I was uncomfortable, and I handled it as best I could without making a scene.  The funny thing is, neither one of them bought any soap from me. The question “Do you sell soap to dirty old men?” was never answered.

I have no idea why I started thinking of the incident this week but it made me smile. I’m grateful for the laugh and memory.

What are you grateful for this week?

 

Yours in Gratitude,

Angela