Prime examples of how to make someone happy whilst speaking their particular foreign tongue and how annoying insurance salesmen can be:
1. Amid a two-part freelance gig this AM/PM had 1.5 hours and 2 events to cover for newspaper gig. Motoring by a coffee joint my car, unaided by myself, came to a screeching halt, knowing what I like. And need. Standing in line at coffee place I saw a couple and thought Now don't they look French and adorable. They spoke to cashier and lo & behold, Frenchies. The woman was having some trouble with our boring-ass bills and had handed the guy over too much money. Thought she's French, what are her shoes like and looked down to see her one shoe was way untied. So, in French, I said Excuse me, your shoe is untied. She was so happy to hear French, her face shot out a glow and she thanked me in French. It's little language things, Party People.
2. So at the panel discussion (item 1 of 2 for coverage in 1.5 hours' time) venue I am wandering through the building looking for aforementioned when I come upon a table of propaganda and six or so young hooligans. They are insurance salesman. In the space of a good fifteen seconds, involving me asking them if they knew where the panel discussion was, I was inundated with pamphlets, a business card, advice of where to call for quotes (as in premiums, not media-type) and notified that one of these people at table could help me to prepare my will. Turned the corner en route once again and ditched the paperwork with the help of a strategically-placed garbage can.
Lesson of sorts #2: the riff-raff can find you no matter where you are - how safe from it you believe you are.
And on that note, it's time to careen out the door and begin documenting more more more - with French on my tongue, a spring in my step and no will in my back pocket.
Love.