Put a hold on lot number 432

A few weeks ago I bemoaned the fact that I hadn't taken notes, or kept any kind of diary to record some of the more significant events in my life. In that column I was referring more to some trips I had taken while I was in the service of my country.

Now that I live in Florida I can't help but think back to those land sales dinners we attended. Early in our married life eating out meant going over to the in-laws for dinner. Eating restaurant food was a few-and-far-in-between luxury occasion. So when we would receive an invitation to attend a land sales dinner - keyword: complementary - we signed up immediately.

In those days the organizers would set three or four prospective buyer couples at a round table with a host. During the meal, which always came first, the host salesman would familiarize himself with his assigned "guests." After the dishes were cleared the pitchman, the high-pressure guys, would begin the presentations: Trying to convince you to buy property in Florida. "Own your own little piece of sunshine," we were told. The presentations would include photos of a clubhouse, "soon to be built" and streets lined with rows of pristine houses, "similar to what your street will someday look like." But somebody has to start. So, "for tonight only we're going to reduce the price on your lot by $1,000." At each table salesmen would start pressuring. "These lots aren't going to last long; let's just put a no-commitment 'hold' on one so somebody doesn't snatch it out from under you. Okay?

"Put a hold on lot number 432 for the Smiths at table four."

The pressure builds

As soon as you "put a hold on" the pitchmen started using the information gathered during the meal. "Can't you imagine your children, Jamie and Billy, splashing in that beautiful pool while you enjoy poolside cocktails just a stone's throw from lot number 432?"

If you were able to resist the temptations of the salesmen the "closers" were called in. These guys were good. They could intimidate a walker-using senior into buying a skateboard: "After moving to the sunshine state and drinking all that fresh orange juice from trees in your own back yard you'll feel like a kid again."

All in all you had to work for that "free" dinner. Still it was a night to remember and you could feel proud of yourselves if you were able to drive home having resisted the pressures of the expert part-you-from-your-money people.

After going to a couple of these get-togethers we discovered that one way to avoid the stress was to excuse yourselves after eating because of the need to use the "facilities," the location of which was usually scouted when first arriving. Then when you went you simple slipped out the back door. This worked much easier in the summer when you weren't burdened with overcoats or jackets, the donning of which was a sure giveaway that you were trying to sneak out and which brought a "closer" out to embarrass you back to the table. "You're not going to eat and run are you?"

We had to continually devise new ways of pre-exiting those complementary dinner engagements. Then one day we decided that we really would prefer to go to one of the in-laws to eat than go through another land-sale presentation. Still I wish I had a list of the ones we attended so we could drive over, perhaps have lunch in the clubhouse and watch all the happy people having poolside cocktails while their children splash around in the water.

The worm turneth

When we were looking for a place to retire, before discovering Sebring, we took a tour of the Carolinas. We contacted real estate people and representatives for development communities. In one instance we had a real estate man who took us around an area for a couple of days. One evening he took us out for dinner during which I mistakenly told our host that we weren't really interested in the area.

A little later he excused himself to go visit the facilities. We never saw him again.

When the waitress brought us the bill she told us that he had slipped out the back door.