There's this wonderful store in my village called REcologie that describes itself as an "eco-forward lifestyle boutique." It's a lovely shop filled with handmade goods, from clutch handbags made of film strips to origami folded wallets made of printed tyvek. They recently expanded and now offer home furnishings like patio furniture made from discarded golf clubs and snowboards. And while I've quietly entertained the idea of talking to the proprietor Maria Cisceros about carrying some of my books and wallets, I've never quite worked up the nerve to say anything to her except pleasantries about the weather.
That is, until a few weeks ago.
Ever since it opened, I've had friends walk into REcologie and advocate on my behalf. I would get a report every so often, something that went along the lines of "oh, and then I went to REcologie and talked to Maria about that bag you made! You know, you should go there because she's really interested in you." I would nod and smile, agree that I really should, and quickly change the subject without being too obvious. Just talking about the prospect of selling my things made me uneasy.
But how do you change the subject when speaking to a 10 year old girl without the capacity for bs?
My daughter Masana has friend named Sasha who also happens to be one of my crafty girls. And she loves to shop at REcologie. On a recent excursion to her favorite shop, Sasha was showing off something she made during one of our crafting classes and struck up a conversation with Maria. She somehow squeezed me into her talk. A few days later, she came over my house after school to do homework with Masana and another friend. As soon as the girls burst through the front door, Sasha excitedly recounted the events of her shopping trip and urged me to go to REcologie with a bag full of my things.
"Right this very second?" I joked.
Sasha responded matter-of-factly, "Sure. We don't need you to watch us." Uh, oh.
Of course, I tried to change the subject, and even went as far as offering the girl candy to distract her. But then Sasha did something ballsy: she gave me an ultimatum. I had to go speak with Maria before she went back there, which she said would be in a few days. She wouldn't leave me alone until I promised her I would go. Which I did. Oh, I would have said anything to be released from that girl's laser focus. I would have cried "uncle" at the top of my lungs. Uncle!
True to my word, I went to REcologie. And as I walked in, I wasn't thinking about me or my aversion to the sales pitch. I was thinking about how I couldn't disappoint a 10 year old girl. And that helped me tremendously.
REcologie is now going to carry my books and wallets, and who knows what else. And who do I have to thank?
So if anyone else out there needs their ass kicked in the right direction, I wholly recommend my young crafty friend Sasha.
Oh, Sasha! I think you are the coolest. Thank you so, so very much.