Pure Gold

The first thing you need to know about us is that we're broke.

These things aren't cheap:

The second thing you need to know is that I have only one piece of real gold in my jewelry collection:

The chain is not gold, but the little bar is. Gleaned from the earth by Roo himself sometime in the late eighties or early nineties. They used to let kids pan for gold at Knott's Berry Farm. So while the other children rode roller coasters and ate cotton candy, Roo was busy increasing his net worth by panning for gold. He scrupulously collected and saved every fleck of gold he could find and, along with some of his mother's old rings, had it all melted down and made into this little gold bar, which he gave to me.

Keeping these two facts in mind, it wouldn't be unreasonable to find us on a Monday evening in a tiny store whose sign promises "We buy gold!"

Undignified? Maybe. Unreasonable? Unfortunately not.

We were both curious to find out how much the gold was worth. I know selling a sentimental gift for cash is pretty desperate, but until sentimentality can pay my hospital bills it's gonna have to hit the road to make way for cold, hard cash. So with this in mind, we strolled into our local grocery store which housed a tiny, gold buying office, fully confident that we were going to come out of there with at least, like, thirty bucks.

As we walked into the store, another customer was already sitting at the counter conversing with the gold man. They both looked up to see us and the customer--an elderly Asian woman--moved over to let us do our business with the gold man. This place was about as big as a generously portioned elevator, so Roo and I and the baby in her carrier spanned nearly the entire store. We hand the gold guy, let's call him the Prospector, the necklace, then we realize the lady customer is still there. Standing right next to us. Close enough that the sight of her crooked, drawn-on eyebrows and exaggerated magenta lip line elicited an involuntary "Gah!". She stood surveying our transaction. Then caught sight of Esmé.

Lady [excited as if she'd only heard of babies but has never actually seen one]: Ahhhh! You have baby?

Roo: Yes

Lady: Oh so cuuuuuute!

Prospector [hands back the necklace]: Its not gold.

Lady [taking both of Esmé's feet in her hands and proceeding to bounce them up and down]: Is boy?

Annie to Prospector: We know the chain isn't gold, but the little bar is.

Roo to Lady: No, she's a girl.

Lady [loudly, as if making a general announcement to us all]: He has hair like boy.

The prospector takes the necklace back, performs this test to prove to me that the chain isn't gold and says: yep, that chain sure ain't gold.

Lady: I mean, She has hair like boy. I have boy so...[she nods]

Roo: Uh...

The Prospector explains the procedure for telling what carat of gold the bar is and starts rubbing the bar on this black slate thing, but we're too distracted by our lady friend who is still bouncing both of Esmé's feet and has now started making kissing sounds at her, like you do to get a puppy to come to you.

Lady to Esmé: Hello! [Kiss kiss] Hello! [kiss kiss]Hello! [kiss kiss] Hello! [kiss kiss]

Prospector holds up his testing slate: So you tell me which one it is.

Roo: Huh? I missed what you were explaining.

Lady: Hello! [kiss kiss] Hello! [kiss kiss] Hello! [kiss kiss]

Prospector: It's the ten carat. Yeah, you've got ten carat gold here. Let me go find out how much we can get for it.

He's gone for a few minutes during which time all that happens is: Hello! [kiss kiss] Hello! [kiss kiss] Still bouncing the baby's feet.

Roo tells me with his eyes that he's going to slap this woman in the face and I'm afraid he's serious so we trade places, making me a buffer between him and our lady friend.

Lady: Hello! [kiss kiss]

Prospector: I can give you twenty five bucks for it.

Roo: No thanks. Let's go!

Lady (remember, she had a heavy Asian accent): Is no gol?

Annie: No, she is a girl.

Lady [pointing to the necklace]: No! Is no gol?

Annie: Oh, uh, no--it is gold, we just want to keep it. (Why am I explaining this to you?)

And then our lady friend contributed the most valuable thought of the evening:

[Pointing to Esmé] Well, this is your pure gol! She is pure gol!

Yes, indeed.

Upon leaving, Roo noted that the gold could've been worth $1000 and he still would've refused just so he could get away from the lady, that she made him feel cold inside.

So despite having spent the strangest ten minutes of the week with the painted face lady and the prospector, and while still being poor, we did learn a valuable lesson--what we lack in actual gold we make up for in 'pure gol':