Meet My Husband

I am not a fan of the hard sell. I don't do well when people get in my face with "amazing offers," I don't like telemarketers that want to know "why I wouldn't be interested in their limited-time-only deal" and I really, really don't like large bins or buckets shoved in my face to collect change and dollars. (Yeah, I know that last one sounds mean, but come on, do you really like being solicited for money when all you want to do is run in the Wal-Mart for some shampoo and candy corn?)

That being sad, I'm also a huge softie. I find it very hard to say "no." Bring three side dishes to the party? Sure. Buy wrapping paper for your kid's school fundraiser? OK. I even used to have a hard time going into a store without any other customers in it because I felt guilty walking out without buying anything.

So, I suppose the real reason I don't like the hard sale is because I usually can't resist it. Unfortunately, like a dog can smell fear, I think most salesmen can still spot the softie in me from a mile off.

Then, I became an adult and realized that rampant spending -- not matter how difficult it was to say "no" -- wasn't going to do me well in life.

My real breaking point came one day as I was sitting in a gym membership office. (Number of times I have attempted to join a gym: 10+; number of times I have actually joined a gym: 0.) I had been there for 20 minutes with no end to the sales spiel in sight, and I was so, so hungry.

"If you put down just $5.oo today, I can guarantee you our special rate through the end of September," some very short man in a very red polo shirt kept saying.

"I need to think about it," I said.

"But it's just $5.00. Who doesn't have $5.00?"

For the first time, I realized that I just didn't want to cave. I knew I wasn't coming back to that gym (too many attractive D.C. denizens with way too much energy on the treadmills), and I really wanted that $5.oo for the McDonald's value meal I was going to eat as a pre-dinner snack on the way home.

"I'm not going to give you $5.00," I said, and yet, the conversation continued to go on and on in much the same way. When I finally did escape the gym membership office, I was exhausted. I said "no" for the first time, but it was far too time-consuming.

I needed a better way.

A few weeks later, I was in a department store buying linens (because I have an obsession with purchasing new sheets), and the all-too-familiar pitch came: "You know you can save 15% today if you sign-up for our in-store credit card."

"That's OK. I have enough credit cards," I said.

"But, you won't only save money on this purchase. You'll save 15% on everything you buy today."

And, that's when it came to my -- the line that has saved me hours upon hours of time in the years since. "Actually," I said, "it's my husband who won't let me have anymore credit cards."

"Oh, I understand," the clerk said, and she ran my debit card and put the sheets in a bag. "Have a nice day."

It was amazing (and sad for this women's libber), but just the implied presence of a man ended any attempt at further selling. (As they say, when a man says "no," it's the end of the conversation. When a woman says "no," it's the beginning of a negotiation.)

I tried it out again a few weeks later.

"If we upgrade your Internet and cable service today, you'll have free HBO for 10 whole days," the telemarketer said.

"I'm sorry," I said. "You'll have to call back later, my husband is the one who makes all of those decisions around the house."

"Of course. When do you think he'll be home?"

"I'd try Tuesday around 1:00," I said, knowing very well no one would be home then.

For an extreme people pleaser, this "husband" of mine was like finding the holy grail of avoidance.

And, when it comes to big purchases, my fictitious husband is the best.

"This mattress is only $900.00. You wouldn't believe what a steal that is, and I can only give you that price through today."

"I'll have to talk about it with my husband."

"You do that and give me a call."

In the past eight years, my "husband" has gotten me off car lots, out of more credit card offers than I can count and away from many a high-pressure gym guy (like I said, I almost join at least once a year).

He's also evolved quite a bit in the time that we've been together. My husband is no one-dimensional creation. Of course, he's in the military, so we can't sign up for any lawn services because "we never know when we'll be moving again." And, he can be a tad controlling and tight with the wallet -- I'm banned from both credit cards and have had an allowance at times. But, he's also quite liberal ("He'd kill me if I put that McCain sign in our yard") and takes great care of me ("Just the oil change today -- my husband handles the rest when he takes my car into the shop").

The older I get, the better I get at asserting myself. After all, I was only 22 when my "husband" came into being, so it's only natural that we'd do some growing apart over the years. But, every so often, when I'm just too tired or the guy at Best Buy is just a little too pushy about the quadrillion extra insurance options, I find he's still there to save me.

"I won't be getting the five-year extended warranty plus freak accident coverage today for my $40.00 DVD player. You don't know my husband -- he can fix just about anything."