“Sir?” said the man.
I laughed. “Sir?” I repeated, looking at my wife, and lifted my old Oakland A’s hat, as if it were a top hat. A move straight out of an old movie. She laughed, too. And when she laughed, I laughed, because she was my wife, and we had been married for just 22 hours.
“Sir, let me demonstrate the power of Razzle Dazzle to you, sir,” the man said, gesturing with his hand for me to sit down.
“I don’t think so, man,” I said, but he moved in front of me, so that I almost bumped into him.
“Sir, just two minutes, that’s all it takes, it’s completely free, and I guarantee that you’ll be happy afterwards,” he said. I sat down.
“Any jewelry I can use to demonstrate the power of Razzle Dazzle with, sir?”
Wife still snickered at every mention of “sir”, but when I, now eager just to get rid of the pushy salesman, took off my ring, I heard her gasp behind me.
“Thank you, sir. Let me now take this ring, add some Razzle Dazzle on it, and gently rub it … like so,” he said, rubbing my ring, not at all gently, but instead, very aggressively, adding Razzle Dazzle on it, really grinding it.
“Two minutes, that’s all it takes, and your ring will shine like never before,” said the salesman.
I stood up to indicate that I’d had enough. The man stopped the violent rubbing of the ring, wiped it clean with his pink scarf, and, holding it between his thumb and index finger, handed it to me.
“There you go, sir, shinier than ever, guaranteed. And today’s special, a bottle of Razzle Dazzle for just 15 dollars, sir,” said the salesman.
“No thanks,” I said.
My wife took the ring from me, looked at it, and broke down in tears. The ring was shinier than ever (in the 22 hours I had worn it), but unfortunately, that’s not how it was supposed to be. Just five minutes prior, there had been two wide, diamond cut bands around the ring. Not anymore. No, sir. The salesman had razzledazzled them off.
I turned around, furious, and walked back to the salesman.
“Not happy, sir?” he said.
“Not happy. You ruined my ring,” I said.
“Is it not shinier than ever?” he said. “Did it not razzle dazzle your wife?”
“Yes, it is. Yes, it did,” I said, realizing there was nothing I could do.
The next day, I found a goldsmith to undo the damage, and my wedding band was once again just like my bride’s.
Five years later, neither one of our rings have those special bands anymore. But now we don’t mind it as much.
Because it’s the razzle dazzle of life that has polished them shiny, shinier than ever.