I've always had a deep dislike for salespeople, and I think I take that out by trying to play mind games with them.
"Excuse me, miss. Do you mind if I take a look at your hands? Either one is fine! Yup! - Oh! Oh, no, is that dry skin? Let me guess, do you use any of our competitor brands? That makes sense. Come try a free sample of our moisture locking hand lotions, starting at 450 rupees a piece! We're 30 times more eco-friendly than our competitors! Satisfaction guaranteed!"
I know it's their job to try to sell their company's shit to me. But aside from outright lying about their company's services and playing up their accomplishments, it's the mere fact that they're a person trying to scam me, another person, and knowingly doing it.
"These HD flatscreens will change your life. Don't take my word for it, either! Check our website, we've got testimonies from over 30,000 of our customers. The mean rating we've received is 4.75 stars. We are well worth the doubled price of almost all of our competitors, because we know good value."
It reminds me of politicians.
By the way, I hate politicians.
"Do you have faith in me? Because I have faith in me. And I would trust no other brand than ours to meet your weight loss goals. Some people have even reported having more energy and feeling refreshed in the morning after just 3 days of taking our dietary supplement."
People who, in general, don't actually give a shit about you but are still willing to try to get you to do something for them by sweet talking and petty persuasion.
"Aren't you glad I stopped you? You would have never known about the harsh corrosive materials you've been using to clean your countertops. The unsightly rust just won't do, and any self-respecting woman like yourself should not suffer the humiliation of having a rusting out countertop! Purchase today, and you can enter our rewards program for even better deals!"
I say petty, because I can usually see right through their pretty white lies.
"We're the number one doctor recommended multivitamin for perimenopausal women!"
But I'll go with it, I'll pretend I'm hooked by their company's product. I'll respond with the usual questions of doubt, and pretend to have my suspicions dissolved by the practiced, smooth talking of a representative.
"You know, I would have reservations about purchasing large equipment like this too. But if you expect to meet regulations, you must think about the safety of the children first. Do you really want to have your students running around on a faulty playset? I didn't think so. These reinforced guardrails and platforms will keep your students safe, guaranteed."
I'll keep asking questions, swinging between, seemingly, wanting to buy the product, then asking another question about some obscure functionality.
"I think you should really consider us a little while more before you jump to conclusions you might regret. Also! You asked about the dovetailing? Yes, these table legs feature dovetailed corners, which isn't seen nowadays in this style. Functionally more stable; aesthetically more pleasing!"
But in the end, it's not the product I'm looking for, but the perfect salesperson.
"Sorry," I say, watching the petite Hylian's will, who for the past hour and a half has relentlessly tried to sell me a glorified coffee machine, break behind evergreen eyes. "I'm just not interested."
"Wait!" She calls after me. I'm already on my way towards the exit, cell in hand with disgruntled news to tell. "We talked for over an hour about this product! The least you could do is make a purchase!"