Once upon a time today, I was walking home along Cornmarket Street after a friend's birthday party. It was early evening and I passed stores that were closing up, buskers playing their guitars, and groups of undergraduates on their way to the pub.
As I passed a cosmetic boutique, I saw that it was still open. It was a store that I wanted to check out for awhile but had never had time. And I hoped that maybe the store would have some good hair products to tame my ever-frizzy hair. (Because my hair is hopeless here. Really. I have tried so many things to keep it under control, but my hair hates the humidity, and it's really bad when it rains. The struggle is very real.)
Anyway, I decided to walk in the store and browse.
But it wasn't easy to browse because this funky music was going on--and all of employees were rocking out to this music.
I stood by the bars of soap, smiling awkwardly at these women who were obviously having a very good time and then smiling awkwardly at the soap, when one of the employees said,
"You're the odd one out--you'd better start dancing!"
So, I did.
If you've ever seen me dance, you know that I can't. I mean. I kind of just move my arms and bob my head. It's kind of like Elaine on Seinfeld. But that's what all of the employees were doing, so that's what I did. And we all just laughed and looked ridiculous.
Another employee came in and looked at us like we were all crazy. Her fellow employees surrounded her, pressuring her to dance.
"Look--even the customer is doing it!"
I suddenly found myself in this weird kind of Fellowship of the Boutique and they accepted me as one of their own as we danced in the store. I found out that one of the employees was also named Megan and all of the employees came up to me and chatted for a bit.
Eventually I started looking at the hair and facial products again, and one of the employees helped me. She gave suggestions about moisturizers and makeup removers, and then I asked her about hair products.
"Do you have anything that will help my hair not be so frizzy?"
She recommended something, but it was really expensive.
"But we can give you a sample," she said.
"Oh, that would be great."
"Is there anything else you would like to sample?"
I mentioned the makeup remover she had shown me and she went to get little pots to put the samples in.
As I waited for the samples, she ended up putting too much of the makeup remover in a pot so she had to go to a back room to get paper towels. When she came out, she was also holding the full pot of frizz-begone hair product.
"Here, this is for you," she said. "For being such a good sport about the dancing."
[The famous hair goo. "For when you don't want to look like a poodle." Amen. Because I don't want to look like a poodle. Even if it is a very, very cute poodle.]
Somehow I danced my way into getting free hair product. I still don't know how it happened.
But dorky dancing was involved.
And a bit of luck. And good humor on another's part.
But mostly dorkiness.