At last a receptionist noticed me gazing at the sticker prices and asked if I needed help. I asked whether they've been doing much business these days. "Oh, sure, sure," she happily replied.
"We're selling a lot of these." She asked then if I'd like to talk to a salesman. I said, why sure, and to which suddenly appeared a man in windbreaker, carrying a clipboard.
I introduced myself and said I was doing sort of business story on the recession.
"We're not allowed to talk to the press. I can't talk to you," he said, plainly irritated.
Are you a salesman, I asked.
"No," was his sarcasting reply. "I just come here everyday."
At least somebody does.
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