Shop till you drop

December 5, 2004

So the salesgirl looked me in the eye, at the store that sells more than fridges, and raised her right arm, perched at the end of which in her hand was a bottle of manly smells. In a perky sort of way she asked: "Would you like to try this, Sir". Anyway, Miss Perky brightened her eyes at me and thrust the bottle in my direction, ready to press the nozzle and spray. "Stop!" said I, "No thanks!" as I lurched in the opposite direction to her aim, raising my arm as if to prevent a missile attack with my hand and just avoiding a lady in a rather large hat passing by and herself having to adjust her gait to my flight from the spray.

Thankfully, the salesgirl didn't press the droplets of perfumed liquid in my direction but withdrew her upper arm somewhat too suddenly for my liking and became somewhat more sullen and, frankly, seemed disappointed in me. Her eyes look reproachfully and there was no "sir" around but a withdrawal, a resignation that her pitch hadn't done the trick. She was no longer interested in me; gone was the eye contact, the perky demeanour, the slightly flirty girly twist and I, all of a sudden, became the invisible man.

A small but sincere attempt to retrieve our fledging relationship with a joke, a smile, almost an apology from me at my abject failure to be the subject of a sale, didn't work. I would have been as well talking to the wall. In fact, I very soon realised that I was. She had, as they say these days, moved on. I was whispering to the wind, looking to the glass mirroring my mouth uttering words to an audience of none. Her interest in me was over.

All day long she would spend at this task, putting on her smile, flashing her lashes and raising her arm all in the hope of making a sale. Nor could she tire of this since this was her livelihood. So, every possible man who came near would be the subject of her attentions for just enough time to ascertain whether they would take the bait and part with their cash.

From a distance I did see someone succumb to her approach and their reward was a very convincing extension of her original attentiveness. Having made the sale, the man, for a least a few more moments, became a devastatingly funny, witty and fascinating human being on whose every word she hung and whose remarks were of such incredible descriptive power that she could do no other than nod her head in complete and total agreement at what he was saying (I couldn't hear, incidentally). She was good at her job. Soon enough he was gone and it was time to home in on another. I'm sure she did well that day.

God pays somewhat more attention to us, but do we just seek his attention when we have something we want from him? Is our prayer just a raising of our mind and heart in his direction when we feel the need to ask and is then forgotten when it is satisfied? Do other things occupy our attention for a few moments until we find something more interesting? Would we be pleased with ourselves if we were the same way with God that the salesgirl was with her customers? During this time of the year, people do shop till they drop, but even then it is possible to pick up the signals and pointers of our transactions with the Most High who looks upon us with kindness and understands our fickleness and transient interest. As we await his arrival, let us rejoice at our state as children of God, ourselves seeking a child promised to us, a gift which still lies in store, and which calls for our devoted attention; that we may drop everything and anything which keeps us from him.

Fr James Campbell SJ