The Woman Within

I had to make a run down to the dealership in Tilton yesterday for a gallon of Antifreeze (and a loaf of bread?). Seemingly an uneventful 36 mile jaunt round-trip down and back up interstate 93, but with a few twists which I feel compelled to mention in brief. Swooping into the parking lot just beyond the terminus of the exit ramp, I parked and alighted from my vehicle. Entering the dealership, it was as it always is as if entering into the lion's cage as a piece of fresh meat. All eyes turn towards the one entering, as if they are the salvation that a prospective buyer brings. Men in neat suits with large builds and the women behind the counters servicing the customer relationship. The stereotyping is always phenomenal in these ways and a bit disconcerting, at least to me. I entered through the double doors and, while scanning all of this, proceeded directly to the woman behind the counter at the customer service desk. As I paraded down the long hallway, I could sense, p