Home Show

This is not normally my scene. I've been to it once, way back, and that would have generally been enough. I've never understood why people pay admission to go in and be hustled by a whole floor of salesmen.



Hannibal Lecter's line about how you don't seek out things to covet, you covet what's right in front of you, well, a Home Show is, as far as I can tell, an exercise in seeking out things to covet. I can find plenty of materialistic distractions in this world for free, thank you very much.



But a client who was showing there told me to bring my kids down and since he backed this invitation with comp tickets, we went.



Em objected. Irritatingly, childishly, and loudly.



I know not everything I've ever taken my kids to has been great. Disappointment is part of life, and sometimes things don't live up. Deal with it.



But most of the things I haul my kids around to are basically fun. The Nelson, Kemper, Moon Marble, HMS Beagle, the Plaza, various and sundry parks, children's museums, and so on. So why would Em assume that my latest idea is terrible?



I asked her, you don't even know what the Home Show is, so how can you know it sucks? Because YOU came up with it.





Has bitching and moaning ever gotten her out of something? Nope, but she apparently hasn't given up the strategy just yet.



Then, after the second booth that gave her free candy and/or some sort of ad specialty, she said, 'You didn't tell me there'd be free stuff!'



The trip wasn't quite free, I did have to pay for parking and I broke down and bought some root beer and a touch of junk food. But it was still a pretty cheap outing and we definitely got our exercise. I figured we'd be good for an hour, maybe 90 minutes in the joint. At four hours in, when I said we should head to the car, Em said, 'Just a little more?'



Only if you promise not to assume my next idea is terrible just because it's mine. Which she grudgingly promised. How long until she breaks that promise? Probably measurable in nanoseconds.



The show was, by the way, dead. This is normally the second biggest crowd to hit Bartle Hall every year, and while we didn't quite have the place to ourselves, there were vendors so desperate for someone to talk to they'd actually throw free candy at my kids rather than wait for them to come grab it.



'It's like a parade,' he explained. 'But backwards.' I'm pretty sure most year's he'd be too busy to play parade.



I can't tell you how many people asked me if I was planning to spend money improving my home this year. And when the answer was no, they would tell me things like that it'd be good to get a bid so I know what the price would be when I'm finally read. Really. Please, just take this card.



A guy selling flower bulbs, he came from trying to get $12 for four bulbs to offering me a box of 75 or so for $30, and eventually to just trying to see if there was an amount of plant matter he could throw in a bag or a box to get $20 out of me. He was a great salesman: I detest yard work and gardening, I'm broke, my hours have been cut by 20% for over two months, and I still almost bought some bulbs. Which would probably still be in my garage next year waiting for me to remember to plant them.



But when the economy is good, all you have to tell a guy in sales is he's wasting his time, no chance of a sale. When things are good, they break off and look for their next possible sale. It's only when they haven't seen a possible sale in too long they start to forget there's such a thing as a person who isn't worth a second or third effort.





The informercial booths seemed to be doing well. ShamWow, the miracle sponge, a supposedly amazing lint roller, these people were doing exactly what you see in paid programming, but live and in person. And Em is a sucker for informercials, so she was an eager audience for these guys. The lint roller chick was doing fine until Mo decided to show her level of interest by yelling 'Whoa' and falling down in the aisle.



I said, 'I know you've had more cooperative audiences...' She laughed and continued with the demonstration but you could see her heart wasn't in it. She's exceptionally cute and personable, but it was getting late and you could tell she's just not used to people prat-falling in response to her pitch.



Saw quite a bit of cool non-home sort of stuff, too. Wonderscope was there, so were pet adoption outfits with cute puppies and kittens. And there were birds. Parrots and whatnot, but also a Eurasian Eagle Owl, which was massive and quite impressive. I'm not exactly mouse-sized, and the claws on this bird scare me.



Smart Cars were also on display, including Gertrude* the lovely and talented sales-chick who I test drove one with. Even though I tell people in the blog post that's not her name, she told me a woman came in asking specifically for Gertrude and would not believe no such person worked there. Even had a print out of my blog post with her. Go figure.



There were also Kandi cars on offer. Whereas Smart Cars are the Daimler take on small, efficiency vehicles, Kandi is brought to you by legendary craftsmen and slave labor of China. The ones who put all that high quality merchandise on the shelf of your local Wal-Mart. Cute cars, and cheap, but somehow I doubt they perform quite like a Smart Car. I'd do one of their trikes, maybe, which are technically (and from a safety standpoint) motorcycles. But while a Kandi may be 'street legal,' you have to be able to go at least 40mph to drive on the Interstate, and these puppies top out at 25.



On the way out, we met Harry Bartle, the crook** Bartle Hall is named for. It's a larger than life bronze, and for some reason everyone pulls his finger. It's the only shiny part...






*Really, Gertrude is not her name.

**A two term Democratic mayor of Kansas City: he may have been a Boy Scout, but I'll guarantee you he knew a thing or two about how to get things done. Tom Pendergast's body was scarcely cold when Bartle was elected...