This is a generic red-shirted computer guy..not the one you'll read about below.
OK, what's a noodnik? If you're not from New Yawk, as I am, it's not a epithet with which you might be familiar. Very simply, a noodnik is a pain in the ass.
Generally in this space we discuss people who are volumaic, that is, create space around them because of their bad personal hygiene, offensive personality, careless habits, and generally being inconsiderate noodniks.
Let's take it one step further--the combination of an already volumaic person--a salesman, and the thing the person is selling. That thing
in particular is the blatant rip off known as the extended warranty. It is virtually impossible to buy anything you plug in without being pitched the extended warranty. Very simply, it's a way for a store to get you to buy something you probably won't ever need.
So here I was, ready to buy a new computer for the family. We researched it before entering the store, knew exactly what model we wanted, and even checked the availability of that unit at that particular store. Easy, right? Nope.
After waiting at least 15 minutes for a salesperson, an apologetic young guy came over and offered his assistance. I pointed to the computer, saying "I'd like one of these. Don't need a printer or monitor, just the CPU." How easy is that? Then it started.
"Well," said the red-shirted salesman in stockboy's clothing. "We sell our computers supported or un-supported. Unsupported is equivalent to buying a computer out of someone's car trunk. Supported means we take care of your unit for 3 years."
"Extended warranty, huh?" I replied.
"Well, yeah," he admitted.
"Never buy 'em," I retorted. "I'd rather have the money in my wallet then yours."
Right then you would think I insulted a family member or told him I heard he sucked at "Grand Theft Auto." His eyes bulged, faced tightened and lips narrowed as he spat back at me, "So, you're a gambling man?"
"Absolutely," said I, "and I almost always win."
This went on for another 10 minutes and the aggressive geek wouldn't take the hint. I imagine this is due to too much time on the computer eroding his interpersonal skills.
I exhibited all the body language: turning away, averting my eyes, giving him the finger, but no go.
Finally, he admitted defeat and retreated to the warehouse to retrieve my computer.
"I'll bring it up to the cashier for you," the now broken horse bleated.
But this guy was tougher than I thought. A 20-year old supersalesman in the making. He had one more bullet in the chamber.
As we moved to the front of the store, he couldn't help himself, frustrated he couldn't up-sell me on anything.
"So, how much you pay for long distance phone service, ever hear of Vonage?"
But alas, this volumaic verbalizer's shots failed to hit home.
As if wearing a mental vest of Kevlar I smiled, puffed out my chest and sweetly responded, "Heard of it, don't need it, good day."
Yessssss! The noodnik quietly set the computer on the cashier's desk, gave me a bewildered look, and shuffled off to the break room to think about what just happened.