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At auctions it’s rare to walk in and see people who are “fancy.” This isn’t necessarily because “fancy” people don’t go to auctions. Auctions are a dirty business. Generally the stuff you’re looking at, digging through, and dragging home is old and in many cases, dirty. On any given day it could also be sweltering, freezing or raining. There was even one auction that I went to in rural PA that had tractors on standby to drag cars out of the mud at the end. True story.

That being said, one of the things I’m trying to change about myself is my image. I have made sort of a vow to myself to dress up a bit when I go out even if “out” means an auction. I had no idea the effect that this simple change would have on my last auction.

As I walked in the door wearing my new vintage style outfit, hair done up in victory rolls with pin curls in the back and red lipstick on, I felt the eyes. Those eyes…You know, the ones that make you wonder if you should grin or run? I decided to grin and go with it. I did my normal auction rounds to inspect all the goodies that would soon be mine. (side note: Ladies, I don’t care how AWESOME the outfit is. Comfy shoes are a must. Yes, heels make your legs look amazing. Don’t care.)

The auction started and I had procured my favorite spot right next to the ring man (The dude who lifts and shows off all the merchandise.) He was an older, fairly innocent looking man. As I was following him around I quickly noticed the quiet comments he was whispering under his breath with each item that the auctioneer called. They were dirty comments…very dirty…and very creative.  I’m not the sort to get offended easily so I just smiled to myself and ignored it. That is to say that I ignored it until one of his more “interesting” comments made me burst into laughter. He realized he had an audience at that point and the comments got louder. He put on quite a show and by the end of the night had most of the people within hearing range cracking up.

The auction was getting toward the end and I was out of my allotted money so I paid for my items and was getting ready to leave. I had purchased a very large, very heavy prayer box and was looking for someone to help me schlep it to my truck. The ring man was on break and happened to be standing beside the checkout counter. I asked him if he would mind helping me out. This is how that went:

He smiled.

He stood there.

I repeated the question.

He smiled again and said, “Sure, for your phone number.”

I laughed and told him I was married.

He responded, “How about a kiss?”

I must have looked surprised because he howled with laughter.

I looked at him with an upraised eyebrow and said, “You realize that I’m not up for auction, right? I’ll just carry it out myself.”

He paused for a beat and said, “OK, OK! How about an ass grab?”

Really?

I mean… REALLY?

“So let me get this straight. If I grab your ass you will carry that giant, heavy box to my truck?”

He nods.

“Turn around. Let me see what you’re working with.”

He turns around.

I haul off and smack his ass so hard that he squeals like a girl.

The whole auction comes to a halt.

Everyone turns to look for the source of the squeal.

The auctioneer, who is up high enough to see the whole thing pauses in surprise and says, “Well that’s something I don’t see every day.” and continues on with the auction.

I blush from my toes to my nose.

Ring Man smiles broadly and says, “I’m gonna dream about you tonight.” And with a wink, picks up the now not-so-holy prayer box and walks out the door.

I run.

I think next time I’ll go for a tamer shade of red.

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