I made an appointment at the laser hair removal center, a national chain. The receptionist greeted me with an enthusiastic smile when I announced I was a winner. I was ushered into a room where a woman, dressed in medical garb, again gave me a warm and enthusiastic welcome. After explaining what I hoped to accomplish, the “specialist” (she did have a wall full of certificates certifying her as one) aimed a large, really large, magnifying glass at my face. After a few minutes of visual investigation and a rapid succession of um’s, she basically said that my face was a mess in terms of hair growth. She then suggested that I go beyond my chin, upper lip and eyebrows and also address my neck and cheeks. Wow! My facial-growth problem was that bad! But I worried not. After all, I had $300 to spend for the repair!

Ah! Then came the sales pitch. To get everything done, I would have to pay an additional $900. The $300 “prize” wouldn’t even pay for the moustache since six treatments “at $100 a treatment” were needed to guarantee positive results. And, and this was the real bummer, I would have to return in two years to do this again for “permanent” doesn’t really mean permanent.

“No thanks,” I said. Her sales pitch increased in pitch. Monthly payments were suggested. “No thanks,” I said again as I began to put on my coat. She then used the appeal that I would feel so much better about myself if I didn’t have to contend with all my unwanted facial hair. If she knew me better she would have known that I like myself even with facial hair! I stood up, thanked the woman, and left. What also left was her warmth.

Never, ever again will I be suckered into these “contest come-on’s!” Experience—make that bad experiences—in the past had taught me this, but my memory seems to cloud whenever I see the words “contest” or “free.” As I got into my car to leave this hair removal center, I vowed that I would avoid spending any more of my time—in person or on the phone—on those things that I know deep down are not totally legit! I looked into the visor mirror and decided my facial hair wasn’t that bad! Then I got out my tweezers—I do my best work in my car with the aid of sunlight!