On Sunday we got to spend 90 plus minutes with a well oiled dancin’ machine otherwise known as a timeshare salesman. I don’t dance so it was painful for everyone involved. The timesharer was leading and he knew all the steps – he even knew the steps to make when I was screwing up the routine by saying things out of turn or (most annoyingly) telling him I wasn’t interested in dancing anymore. I think there was only one step I was supposed to make and though he led me to it several times I just didn’t get it right – I just wouldn’t say yes. Oddly enough this guy who I thought liked me (he shared his last 20 years worth of vacation pictures with me, told me about his daughter’s wedding, and shared a very personal letter from a victim’s family of 9-11 about how glad they were that they’d spent a week in the time share he’d sold them) got up and walked away so fast after my last misstep it made my head spin. He couldn’t get over my dancelessness. Now that I think about it he should get together with some of the evangelists I know. They have a lot of the same moves.