Hasta la vista, baby

For some reason I neglected to mention this little tidbit from when my parents were visiting, but figured it was worth revisiting:


My Dad wanted to buy an Argentina soccer jersey. We were heading to dinner downtown, and were walking down one of the main pedestrian-only shopping streets near the Microcentro. We saw a few jerseys in the window of one of the stores, so we went in to check out prices and sizes. When my Dad settled on a jersey he liked, he wanted to try it on. Holly and I translated between my Dad and the salesman. The salesman then took my Dad towards the back of the store to try on the jersey. However, something must have been lost in translation because, when the two of them got to the back of the store, my Dad realized that there was no changing room.

So with my Dad speaking only English, and the salesman speaking only Spanish, my Dad decides to whip off his shirt and try on the jersey right in the middle of the store. No one realizes what is happening until it is too late to stop him. As soon as my Dad has his shirt off, the salesman takes a step back, feigns shock, and loudly exclaims, "Arnold Schwarzenegger!"

Flattery is an effective sales technique in any language, and now my Dad has a lovely new soccer jersey from Argentina.