Time Sharing

Al looked the reception area over. It was pretty much the same as any other timeshare company he’d heard about: A reception desk with a smiling young girl behind it. Pictures of faraway destinations that would tantalize the nomadic spirit of mankind. Couples lazily lying on a deserted beach on a tropical island with a colorful frosty drink next to them and holding hands giving the impression that the vacation was the cause of the act of love. In some of the pictures the couple were even hugging, watching a sunset.

Yes. Take our vacations and romance will be in your life. Your wife will faun on you the way she did before you got married...and you haven't seen a hint of since.

Fat chance of that, mused Al.

But, this was the propaganda being portrayed.

Over to the right of the reception desk, behind a gold braided rope, was THE CAR. Al had to admit this one was different.

Usually the timeshare companies would offer a Jeep Cherokee or a Toyota 4-Runner. Sometimes, for the more sport-minded that leaned a little more to the open road than the off-road, a Ford Mustang Convertible would be displayed. Once, he remembered, a company actually had a Mercedes Benz 600SL. They obviously marketed a much higher clientele. Sure enough their prices were higher as well. But here, Al was taken back a bit. These prices must be astronomical, he thought.

There before him was a Lamborghini in all its glory. He had, from childhood, always loved the style and lines of this particular make. He called it, "an erection on wheels." It was metallic silver in color, with a tan interior made of the highest quality leather. The windows were tinted with an amber color allowing the driver to see with less ambient light. The wheels were more to the orange than amber. It was incredible. He’d never seen one like it. A million dollar vehicle, if it was a penny.

This company must have delusions of grandeur, ridiculously high prices, or simply never awarded the car.

He imagined the latter to be the case.

He was, for obvious reasons, aware of the law requiring all Sweepstake promotions to give away all offered gifts at least once a year. But, he was also aware how legally any company could get around that bit of political handholding.

Wasn't it amazing, Al reflected, how easily the questioning public can be pacified by laws they are told by the lawmakers are put there for the protection of the consumer and in truth simply give the corporations a more insidious way to suck that same public of more of their life's earnings than before? Playing off of the false sense of security, if put to the test by a not-so gullible individual with his ever hungry piranha of an attorney, proves to be as flimsy and transparent as the paper on which it is written?

Not exactly the same but close enough for Al to use as a corollary, was a recent ruling against a chemical corporation for illegally dumping toxic waste. The law makes it clear you can't do it, but the company did anyway in spite of the law.

Why shouldn't they? To dispose of the waste legally cost the company one and a half million dollars a day. The fine for illegally dumping it, causing disease and sometimes death, was three hundred thousand dollars.

Trick question here, thought Al. What would you do if you were a company that cared more about money than people, which was obviously the case?

But, back to the machine. Al had a hard time thinking of it as a car. This wasn't a car. This was a finely tuned, magnificent piece of mechanical artistry.

He just knew there was a little hand under the dashboard that gently stroked your leg when you drove it.

God! he thought. It's beautiful.

He turned to say so to Constance and noticed that she had her nose buried in a magazine. It was impossible for her to have not noticed the vehicle? It was just a bit bigger than a breadbox.

Then he remembered...he was the passionate one in the marriage. She never got truly excited about anything. That, accompanied by the fact that her family could buy one of these to be used as an in-town run-a-bout, a slight whim, nothing really exciting here.

The thought sickened him. No wonder the spoiled rich always seem so bored. They're boring!!!! He focused back to the task at hand and walked up to the receptionist to sign in. The girl behind the counter, who had been sitting quietly watching him look at the Lamborghini, smiled and said, "Good evening, Mr. Jackson. Was your drive in pleasant?"

He hadn't handed her the appointment confirmation he'd received in the mail and was a bit taken back by her calling him by name. He didn't think he'd ever seen her before. "How did you know I'm Al Jackson?" he asked, not being one to have unanswered questions plague him for very long.

"You have an appointment at 7:30, which it now is," she replied pleasantly.

"I know. But, I'm sure others do too."

"No, sir. Just you."

This was different.

"Just me? Isn't this a Timeshare sales presentation?"

"Oh. Yes, sir," she continued never losing the pleasant grin. "It certainly is."

"Aren't we going to be sitting in a large noisy room with a lot of other people and loud music?"

"No, sir. You're not. The presentations are private."

"Private?"

"Yes, sir. Private. You're representative will be here shortly. I've notified him of your arrival. Would you like to sit in the car? I could see that you liked it."

Taking a quick glance at Constance to determine if she elected to be involved in this conversation, and seeing she didn't, he returned his attention to the receptionist.

"What isn't there to like? Lamborghini’s have been my favorite dream-car since I was a kid. May I get in?"

"Of course. I said you could. We knew it would appeal to you."

His mind, focused on the car, was only slightly thrown off by the comment. "You knew it would appeal--?"