Magazines and Glamours
Guy just stopped by trying to sell me magazines. So here I am working on a commentary on the Emerald Tablet, and someone is outside my door trying to sell me Sports Illustrated. Ain’t that a nice allegory for — umm, something. The thing is, he didn’t just say “I’m selling magazines.” He said first that he had to go around and introduce himself to his neighbors, which made me think, aha, sexual offender. Then he suggested that perhaps he was looking for two “ugly chicks.” I informed him I was neither ugly nor a “chick.” Then he suggested that he was looking to sell edible underwear. That I didn’t buy for a moment. Finally, he hinted that it was a scavenger hunt. Then, he showed me the catalogue of a lot of magazines I, personally, have little interest in.
Still, while I found him somewhat repugnant in a number of ways, I found myself looking for a way I could please him by buying one of his magazines. A perfect example of a glamour — he made me want to like him, even though I didn’t, and want to fulfill his need to sell magazines, although I couldn’t.
Being a salesman for a few months might be good practice for magic. Makes me wonder: what other jobs can train us in magic?