It Went Very, Very Wrong

by Eleanor Lippman

My mother and I lived on different coasts; she was the easterner, I, the westerner. Over the years, we developed an easy pattern of alternating my visits to Philadelphia, hers to Southern California.

Understand, my mother would not and did not drive a car. If the Philadelphia transportation system could not take her to her destination, she relied on others. Especially me. During my visits east, I rented a car, and for my mother, it was a freebie vacation complete with a chauffeur. Me.

You see, after World War II, my father purchased a car, taught my mother how to drive, and handed her the key. For her first outing, she packed her three toddlers, including me, into the car and drove away. Within one block of the house, she made the turn onto a main street and was promptly pulled over by a policeman and given a ticket. With that, she drove home, parked the car, and permanently and completely gave up driving.

So that explains what my trips to Philadelphia were like.

On the other hand, her trips to southern California were eerily similar. Helpless as a baby, she relied on me to take care of her from the moment she arrived to the final drop off at the terminal for her return trip.

Of course, I needed to use my vacation time from work when she visited so I could keep her entertained. And that was the problem. How to fill up a week with things to do. I came up with a brilliant idea. A new business opened in the shopping center near my home, based selling cosmetics, creams, moisturizers, lotions, lipsticks, nail polish: a make-over dream heaven. More importantly, the business offered free facials as an incentive to come in and look around and, of course, I took advantage of the offer. For an hour, I sat in their chair of honor and was pampered and soothed and exposed to their entire line of merchandize. I actually purchased a few of their products; they were good quality and I really liked them.

So, when my mother proposed visiting me, I went into the usual frenzy trying to line up things to do, and, that wonderful facial and hour of pampering came to mind. I decided to include dropping my mother off, popping into the nearby coffee shop to enjoy some blissful time to myself, showing up in an hour, and, the cherry on top of the cake, so to speak, purchasing some of those lotions and things as a gift to my mother.

What was not to like? Who wouldn’t enjoy a pampering facial? Imagine leaving the shop with fresh skin, smelling sweetly and being so relaxed!

As the saleslady led my mother to the chair of honor, I took her aside and gently told her I would be buying my mother any of the products she liked. And, I would be back in an hour to pick her up and make the purchases.

My failure was that I neglected to tell my mother what I had in mind. I wanted to surprise her. I wanted her to relax and enjoy the luxury of a facial. And, I suppose the saleslady was inexperienced and lacked tact and was anxious to make a big sale so she was pushing her merchandize far more aggressively than when I was her client. My mother, I think, was equally inexperienced and lacked tact. So, apparently, as each new item was offered and played up and praised as wonderful at what it was designed to do and how reasonable (?) the cost, my mother would dig in her heels and say she did not need it instead of just sitting back and letting herself be pampered and patted and smoothed and caressed. And so it went.

“I would like to introduce you to our special what-ever-it-is and let me try it on your beautiful and youthful skin . . . “

And my mother would dig her heels in and say she was not interested in that line of cosmetics.

And the saleslady would come back with, “Let’s try this cream or that lotion and see if you like it….”

And my mother would tell her not to bother as she would never use that kind.

Probably after the first five minutes it would have been apparent that my mother was not going to be cajoled into buying anything or even trying anything new and the saleslady, thinking of her commission, would try again and again, each time having her client, my mother, resist with all of her might.

So, the leisurely one-hour facial with product after product being demonstrated became a battle of wits with each lady wishing she were somewhere else. The facial ended up being cut short, very, very short. My mother was not going along for the ride. She did not want any of the products offered and resented what she perceived as a captive hard sell.

I opened the door at the agreed upon time to find both ladies silent, stoney faced, not very happy and waiting quite a while for me to show up and remove my mother from the store.

Catastrophe! Not what I had planned. I did buy one or two items for my mother and also vowed never to set foot in that establishment again for fear of recalling how the afternoon in question turned out.

My take home message: never, ever, try to surprise my mother. It will only end up making me look like an idiot.