The tax credit has come and gone. The snowbirds have returned to their assorted tundras for the thaw. The Memorial Day throng is now a memory. What is a salesman to resort to when his resort town trades an idyllic spring for the mercury-bending summer that looms larger than Kirstie Alley at a Weight-Watchers’ reunion? While one hundred and fifteen degree temps have a tendency to weed out the looky-loos, you motivated home buyers continue to slather on the SPF 1000 and look at houses. If the ice cold A/C in my SUV is not quite cold enough, I’ve got just the thing to lure you into my vehicle.
The gimmick of the week is one complimentary hour in the frozen food section of the supermarket of your choice. You heard that right. What better way to cool down after an afternoon in the desert heat than to curl up next to the fish sticks until the store manager kicks you out? Considering that many of my former colleagues have traded in their licenses for name tags at grocery stores across the Valley over the past couple of years, I can call in a favor (provided they are on shift when you opt to cash in this voucher) to close down an aisle for a dubious frozen pea spill.
So remember, buy a home with Paul Slaybaugh and no one will make you leggo that Eggo until your core temperature returns to the double digits.
*Offer is patently absurd and good for a limited time only in a parallel dimension*
