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Something Smells Scammy

, , , , | Right | September 10, 2021

I am sitting in the food court during my lunch hour stuffing my face with saturated fats, over-processed ingredients, and bad calories when a handsome gentleman decides to approach me at my table. As I admire his beauty from afar, this good-looking suitor gives me the worst pickup line ever.

Con Artist: “Excuse me, do you buy cologne?”

Me: “Come again?”

Con Artist: “I asked if you ever buy cologne.”

Me: “Yes, I do.”

Con Artist: “How much would you say you spend on your fragrances?”

I’m still unsure of where this conversation is heading.

Me: “Approximately $40 to $80, depending on if it is a designer scent and if I like it.”

Con Artist: “What if I told you that you’re spending way too much for designer fragrances and that the only difference is the amount of oils being used in those bottles?”

Me: “Ummm… Uh… I’m not sure where you’re getting at.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a bottle of cologne with no label, sprays a piece of paper, and hands it to me.

Con Artist: “I work for an independently-owned company and we manufacture fragrances that are exactly similar to designer fragrances but at much lower cost. The secret is the amount of essential oils used in the product in producing the scent. Try it.”

I take a whiff of the sample. Immediately, my nose starts to burn and my eyes water as I take in an aroma that can only be described as musky mildewed flowers being plucked from a sewer drain and used as someone’s toilet paper.

Con Artist: “What do you think?”

Me: “Uh… It’s… quite… interesting.”

Con Artist: “It’s only $20 — much cheaper than those designer colognes you buy. Interested in buying a bottle?”

I reply as politely as I can, trying not to cough in his face.

Me: “No, but thank you.”

Con Artist: “Oh, come on, man. Don’t you want to smell good for your girlfriend or wife?”

Obviously, he doesn’t know that I’m gay. Darn.

Me: “I’m fine. Thanks. And I’m not married, nor do I have a girlfriend.”

The con artist picks up his cologne and leaves in a huff, but not before getting in the last word edgewise.

Con Artist: “No wonder you’re single.”

He disappeared among the crowds of food court patrons. Oh, well. I’ll always have the food court.

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