The temperature has risen to a hot 17 degrees in Grove City. The snow is coming down thick and soft. Not the wet slushy kind, or the hard snowman-building kind, but the perfect feathers-from-a-pillow kind. I am walking to lunch with a few of my friends, and exclaim how today would be a wonderful day to jump in the snow. I ask who else would be interested, and get a lot of muffled “eh, um, probably not” responses. On the walk back all of our friends have dispersed but one who continues to escort me back. She comments on the glorious weather. The unfrozen fingers and noses. No stinging eyes or burning cheeks. No wind making your ears numb. In this case, is was not at a point of pain but at a point of joy I restated my original proposition to make a small detour on the way back to our dorm. And here, she pondered on my offer and gave the statement “why the heck not”. And that was her grave mistake.
We find a lovely patch of untouched snow in between MEP and Harker. Then begins the debate if we should get a running start, or jump, or spin. Eventually we agree that just trust falling straight backwards into that feathery pillow of snow would be the most enjoyable. We wait for a few civilians to pass so as not to subject them to our antics, and prepare ourselves for the drop. Arms out, spine straight, we count down to the plunge. And then, of course, you can guess what happened.
Choosing to trust fall was the first error of our ways. For while there was a good three inches of that soft, feathery snow- underneath was a foot of solid ice. Shouts of pain rang throughout the campus. I still have an enduring headache from what feels like a near concussion.
Here is the truth behind the trust fall: In every situation, you do not sell a product or service, you sell yourself. My unfortunate friend did not nearly break her back because she wanted to fall into an icy brick. She chose to live in the moment because she loved me. Even if I have really stupid ideas. And the important part is after the sale. Was she angry and upset? Not at all. Sore, perhaps. But we just laughed and laughed. And we both exclaimed how glad we were that we made the decision to jump in the snow. She was satisfied with the “purchase” because she wasn’t buying the plunge, she was buying me. And though it wasn’t what either of us were expecting, it created a moment that brought us closer together. She walked away from that sale satisfied, because she got the return on her investment that she really wanted- not from the product, but from the person.
BoweryJE22