Young, French Salesguy at beauty cream kiosk: Sweet-heart! I lahk your chooz.
Me: Hmmm? Oh, thanks. (smile; continue walking)
YFS: Oh and look, a mahtching bracelet. Verr cute. Would you lahk to try some hand crÃ¨me?
Me: No, thanks. (continue walking)
YFS: Hey, come herrr for a moment. Zhust for a moment.
Me: Um, okay… (about to add â€œIâ€™m on my lunch break and in a bit of a hurry,â€ I walk back over but my body language is two stores down the hall already)
YFS: (steps away from his kiosk, and asks very quietly) Are you ovherrr twenty-five?
Me: (blushing at the obvious-but-still-charming salesguy flattery) Yeeessss… (where on earth is he going with this? is it some kind of anti-aging cream? Iâ€™m considerably older than 25, so this line of reasoning is going to backfire on him…)
YFS: (still quietly) Will you mahrry me?
Me: (now blushing furiously) Oh! Oh, uh, thank you!
Now, if I had any actual social skills, this would have been an excellent time for me to say something like â€œI donâ€™t know about that yet, but Iâ€™ll let you take me to dinner.â€ But I have no social skills. I blushed like mad, thanked him again, perhaps a third time, and kept walking down the hall. Smiling.