The art of the deal

When I was twenty-five I finally had enough credit cards to buy my dream TV,  the Sony Wega.  It was like a regular TV only heavier and painted silver, which meant it was awesome.  I felt like such a bad ass being able to afford one in fifty payments or less.  Hell, I knew if I played my cards right I could go as big as 32 inches. It wasn't just a TV, it was a symbol of how stupid I would be with money for years to come.  I wanted that television so bad I was willing to do anything.  I just needed a good deal.  You can imagine where this is going.

Before we even got through the door at PC Richards, Sybil saw her mark.  He was an middle aged salesman with a bad haircut and a cane, pondering where his life went wrong.  Sybil screamed "sonny" in his direction and told me to go look at vacuums.  I'm my own man, so instead of hiding behind the uprights,  I hid behind the VCRs and listened to their exchange:

Salesman: Hi ma'am, how may I help you today?
Sybil: I want this TV. (points vaguely in the direction of the one I want).
Salesman: That's a fine choice.  Let me see if we have it in stock.
Sybil: I was just in Crazy Eddy's and they have it for two hundred dollars less. (Crazy Eddy's long out of business).
Salesman: Do you have it in writing?
Sybil: Look, that is the deal they offered me, if you aren't going to beat it, then I will just go there.
Salesman: Let me talk to my manager.
Sybil: Wrap this up. I don't have all day.  You don't want me to beat you with your cane do you?
Salesman: I.. I.. will be right back.

I left there with the TV and an extra two hundred in my pocket.