Funny Place

This weekend, Jen and I set about on the task of filling our house with normal domestic pieces of legitimacy. By that I mean, we decided to buy a real live dining room table set. There is just no way to justify your place in the world unless you can lay claim to owning a piece of furniture that gets used far too few times per year than can possibly justify its mere existence. At the same time, as we were walking around this store, I couldn't help but be drawn to the thought of these pieces of furniture as somehow helping to complete a room, even if it is a room that probably won't get used all that much.

Jen and I saw this table and six chairs and were immediately drawn to it. It was on sale and I immediately asked the salesperson what kind of deal we could get on it and I was assured that it was at rock bottom prices, and a good deal.

Knowing the general range of prices for items and sets such as these, I also decided that it seemed to be a reasonable price and quite honestly, the buzzing of a light fixture in the building had crept into my head to the point that it seemed almost deafening.

And while I thought this whole deal wasn't too bad, I couldn't help but not really believe that it was priced as low as she could go. But even though I was just thinking this, she kept persistantly telling me about what a deal it was as if she was reading my mind.

And the more she said it, the more I was thinking how great it would be to get an additional 15% off this supposed rock-bottom price which already seemed lower than anything else that Jen and I had seen in any other stores that sell sets of dining room furniture.

All the actual stats pointed to the fact that she might actually be telling me the truth about the price, but her salesperson-ness led me to believe that she is inherently a liar.

When the perception of a person's job title overrides what I feel to be the facts and truths in a situation, does that mean I am too cynical?

Maybe I really do need to lighten up.