Posing As Normal© The Humor of Mary Tompsett

Coasting on Ignorance ........I am woman, hear me floss. After surviving recent dental surgery, I was basking in smug bravado. Given this rare state of self-confidence, what better time to buy a car? ........But I had to hurry. The veneer of invincibility wouldn’t last, and I’m as skilled in sales negotiations as I am performing my own dental surgery. The plan was to ditch my pickup for a used, fuel-efficient car. My ego whined at shedding its cowgirl identity, but I belong to AARP, for pity’s sake, not the Bull Riders of America. They turned me down. ........Internet printouts in hand, I sallied forth to a dealer for a couple of test drives. The boys in the showroom weren’t waiting for their parents. Silly me, they were the sales team! When did the US workforce became pubescent? I suspect the median age dropped during one of my menopausal blackouts, but no one bothered to tell me. Anyway, a nice young man (call him John) showed me to the cars. I could almost smell the bubblegum and Clearasil, and I fought the urge to ask what grade he was in. ........Surrounded by thousands of shiny, plastic flags, my fickle courage cracked like a cheap facial masque in the sun. So I let my anxiety propel me through my best imitation of a car buyer. I lifted the wiper blades and listened to them smack into place. I remarked on how clean the tires were. I rearranged the balloons on the antenna, even peeked under the hood. Whooee! Lots of coils and gizmos! I jiggled belts and sniffed the washer fluid. Yup, smelly blue stuff in there. During the test drive, I pretended to notice engine sounds, occasionally muttering terms like “ABS…rack and pinion…MSRP.” ........We took out a second car with a dashboard layout like an alien space pod. “The Starship Enterprise? Dammit, Jim, I’m a doctor!” I blurted. John ignored the outburst, and I deftly avoided more car talk because, frankly, I’d used all my words. Instead, I drove around describing my family’s history of psychiatric pathology and shared old wallet photos of Grannie and me in matching Easter straitjackets. John developed a tic. ........Back at the office, I plopped onto a chair cushion that exhaled with a noise like a manatee giving birth. John asked what I thought. About being a midwife? Oh, the cars! ........I admitted liking the second car but it was pricey. He asked what I’d be willing to pay. ........Aaaaaack!! Now what?? I mumbled that I should hurry or I’d miss my evening Seinfeld rerun. John said to wait here, and then ran from the office. ........A dazzling rainbow lit up the room. And the voices of Tom and Ray Magliozzi of the Car Talk radio program filled my head! Their Cambridge accents resonated through my psyche: “A/C blower motor…alloy wheels… regenerative braking….” ........What was happening?? Could it be…yes! I was channeling the spirits of these still living car experts. (Note: “Channeling” isn’t about hogging the remote. It’s when you become the equivalent of a drive-up menu box while a dead person’s spirit shouts a food order or other mystical blather through you.) ........“We’ll knock off another $500.” John interrupted the channeling, and I blinked at him. Uh-oh. Was this a good price? Should I take it? Think! I tried to rub my aching forehead, but nervous sweat had formed such powerful suction that my arms were stuck to the chair. My wiggling set off another labor groan from the manatee cushion, and John fled his office again, no doubt fearing a birth at any moment. ........The channeling resumed: “Turbo charger…dual overhead cam…powertrain….” But what did it mean? Tommy and Ray, speak to me! In plain English! ........“The manager will cut another $900.” John’s words jolted me back to reality. “That’s our bottom line, excluding a few accessories.” Accessories? I nodded eagerly, wondering if that meant a matching handbag and pumps. ........I pried my fingers off the chair to sign papers and discovered that my sweat had removed the varnish in a perfect image of a young William Schatner. It was a miracle! ........No, not the sweat mark, though it was pretty cool. Not even the channeling — I confess, I forgot to take my meds that morning. No, the miracle was that my ineptitude and panic had passed for strategic hesitation and savvy negotiating skills. I’d gotten a great deal! ........Surviving dental surgery had initially primed my self-confidence, but I basically coasted through this escapade on the fumes of ignorance. Ironically, I’m feeling a wee bit cocky again. The heck with paying an oral surgeon next time. In Cast Away, Tom Hanks removed his tooth with an ice skate. I mean, how hard could it be?