The Price of Paradise: Part 1

My husband, Steve, and I were recently involved in a hostage situation.

It didn’t involve guns or terrorists.

It did, however, involve intimidation tactics, guilt, and mind games.

Tom, our captor, led us down a hallway to a small room.

He gave us water.

Sparkling water, because we were high-end hostages.

Tom told us to sit down.

In a little bit, he’d be taking us somewhere else, but for now, he just wanted to get to know us.

Tom didn’t want to hurt us.

Tom wanted the best for us.

Tom wanted to sell us a timeshare.

Of course, we had no intention of buying, as we told the salesperson who first contacted us.

“I think you’ll change your mind when you see what we have to offer,” the salesperson replied.

Then he offered us four nights at a beautiful Hawaiian resort, with the agreement that we attend a 2-hour timeshare presentation.

But timeshare hours do not move at a normal pace.

One timeshare hour = one gazillion regular hours.

Before the presentation, Steve and I roleplayed different scenarios and practiced our assertive NOs!

“No means NO!” I shouted.

“Maybe a little less crazy,” Steve said.

“We’re not interested,” I stated firmly.

Steve gave me the thumbs up.

“And don’t forget,” Steve added. “The salesperson is going to try and connect with whichever one of us he thinks is the weakest link.”

Steve and I both pointed at each other and then spent the next 20 minutes arguing over who was the weakest link.

We weren’t off to a great start.

Ten minutes into the presentation, Tom turned to me and said, “January, I can tell this location is going to be perfect for you.”

Steve coughed, Weakest Link.

We headed over to the two-bedroom unit that Tom thought would be ideal for our family. Taking a seat at the kitchen table, Tom pointed to one bedroom. “Now, January, that’s the master for you and Steve.” He then pointed to the other room. “And this one would be perfect for Quincey and Colby.”

I gave him my children’s names?

Please don’t tell Quincey.

“It’s a nice timeshare,” I said.

“January, this is not a timeshare, this is VACATION OWNERSHIP,” Tom stated. “There’s a big difference.”

Then he went on to NOT explain the difference but he did continue to use my name in every sentence.

Did Tom think I didn’t know my own name?

As he spoke, Tom locked eyes with mine with such intensity that I couldn’t look away.

Was Tom a Timeshare Wizard?

“January, you know who’s really going to enjoy this place,” Tom said, pausing dramatically. “Holland!”

I told him about my granddaughter? 

Definitely don’t tell Quincey.

“We have an amazing pool,” Tom said. “Holland is going to love the waterslide!”

“She’s only 15 months,” Steve said.

“17 months,” Tom and I both corrected him.

I looked at my watch. 

Just one gazillion hours to go.

Tom walked us back to the main office. “January, this really is an unbelievable opportunity,” he said. “EVERYONE who has come in today has bought a place!”

Not everyone, Tom.

“Why don’t we go look at some numbers.” He led us down a series of stairways and through a maze of intricate halls. 

Clearly, Tom was taking us to the cavernous depths of timeshare vacation ownership Hell.

Steve and I took a seat in the office. Tom pointed to the people on his computer enjoying their luxurious vacations, and added that we were “just a signature away!”

Steve and I shared a sideways glance.

Tom didn’t intimidate us. 

Sure, he was tall and most likely a wizard, but it was 2 vs 1.

There was no way he was going to talk us into buying.

Then the door opened…

https://midlifebloomer.com/the-price-of-paradise-part-2/