Bad Deal

I am very bad at making deals. Thankfully, for the last decade or so, I have worked in a unionized environment where salary is standardized and not negotiable. At least, I don't think it's negotiable. I don't know because I've never asked because I'M BAD AT DEALS. I have accepted every starting salary ever quoted to me without question. I pay sticker price.

13 years ago, my husband Sam and I were planning a trip to Cuba. A friend who had been there before mentioned that they'd had to escort frogs out of their resort room each night; the frogs would jump in through the open windows. I have a problem with frogs. They're fine when they're just sitting there, all squat and warty, but then they release their spring-loaded legs and sproing right onto your face which I don't care for. I find them startling. I wasn't interested in removing them from my room on a nightly basis.

Those tucked in legs are a LIE!!!

And so I approached my husband with a deal, a deal that I thought was particularly generous to him. I told him that he would be in charge of dealing with any and all frogs that got into our room. I, in turn, would be responsible for dealing with any bugs. There were bound to be more bugs than frogs, including potentially unfamiliar and strange (read: creepy) ones, and, I told him graciously, I would take care of the disposal of all of them.

He pondered my proposal for longer than I felt necessary. What was there to think about?  He was clearly getting the better end of this arrangement. Finally, he spoke.

"But I don't mind bugs."

"Right," I answered, panic creeping in, "but you wouldn't have to worry about any of them!"

"I don't worry about them now," he said, his preternatural calm and composure, quite frankly, getting on my nerves. "You should have to deal with something that I don't want to deal with."

My husband, I learned in this moment, is good at deals.

"Well, what don't you want to deal with?" I asked. Would I be tasked with lizards? Small rodents? Recon missions to find the cleanest bathroom stall?

Sam considered this question for at least a minute before he said "you have to deal with talking to any people on the trip that I don't want to talk to. You have to be the buffer."

Well played sir.

I agreed. I took the deal that I knew was a bad one because I really didn't want to have to remove frogs. Also, I secretly believed the internal pressure to be a polite Canadian would be too much for Sam, and he wouldn't enforce that side of the deal.

I was wrong.

There was a team of French Canadian hockey players at the same resort as us, with some very over-bearing personalities among them. A couple approached us the first night, and after about two sentences, Sam just turned and left. No "excuse me", certainly no attempt to also extract me, just a straight shot to delicious mojitos at the bar. 

Drink of choice the whole trip!
(Photo from bbcgoodfood.com)

I continued nodding and murmuring little noises at this couple before I was also able to leave, a good five minutes later. Thankfully, Sam had a mojito waiting for me when I finally arrived at the bar.

We didn't see a single frog the entire trip.