1 Happy St

This story was made possible because of Steve, an appliance salesman at Sears. My assumption is that Steve is a great guy; nice family, nice house, a young daughter in college. I would say that he's pretty much your typical 55 year old American man.

By now, you may be wondering how I know so many personal details about an appliance salesman. I mean it's not like it takes a great deal of time or energy to buy a friggin microwave. If you were wondering this, you have a good point. I shouldn't know much about an appliance salesman at Sears. In fact, other than his name (maybe), I probably shouldn't know ANYTHING about him.

-"I'll take that one."
-"Great, I'll ring it up."

That should have been the extent of our relationship.

But that was not the case on Saturday. Jill and I spent 3 hours (yes, 3 HOURS!) with Steve going over everything from what a microwave rack is used for to what his daughter is majoring in. I'd tell you the answers, but I think at that point, I may have been bleeding from my eyes and ears. Afterwards, as we stuck out our hands for the obligatory "thank you for your help" handshake, Steve wanted no part of that. He pulled us both in for an uncomfortable hug. No joke, you can ask Jill. We got a hug from our Sears appliance salesman. His eyes were even red like he was about to cry. Poor Steve.

At least he didn't call me Mike.