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Return Fire: My Timeshare Story

Well folks, now that I'm back to being a swinging bachelor, I've found that my free time has increased dramatically. With that being said, I have also found that I want to fill as many of my hours as possible with activities. Last week, on one of my trips back from picking up my mail, I found salvation from boredom in the form of a little blue postcard. This postcard told me that I was a winner, and that fabulous prizes would be mine. Well, my untrusting nature came to the forefront as I reread this postcard. Surely these people wouldn't give away a prize such as airfare and hotel accommodations at Las Vegas? I looked at the return address, and discovered my mysterious benefactors: The Awards Verification Center. Something in the back of my mind started shouting at my consciousness, as I had heard that name before. Thinking it over, I realized that I had received several phone messages from these people in the past, and had merely blown off the messages as tripe. But as I said before, I am now trying to fill the hours, so I decided to take a little trip down the rabbit hole.

The first stop was a virtual one, as I decided to call the number listed on the postcard to discover the true identity of my benefactor and to "make an appointment", as the card requested. After a little cajoling, I was able to discover that the true head of this operation was an outfit called Silver Lake Resorts. Yes, my friends, a timeshare corporation. And in exchange for giving me these fabulous prizes, they wanted only 90 minutes of my time to come to Lake Conroe and see what a splendid resort they operate. Upon contemplating my options (sleeping in versus going there and boggling total strangers), I decided that a trip to Conroe was probably a good idea. After all, maybe this would stop the messages on my answering machine.

The first thing I noticed when arriving at the timeshare tour site was the target demographic for this crew. By looking at the parking lot, you could see a lot of middle-class families going into the reception center. I was the only single person in attendance that morning. Well, if I was to go into the lion's den, I figured I'd better get my game face on. Fortunately, I had recently cut off all my hair, and was sporting a pair of menacing new sunglasses thanks to my vision insurance. My first decision was that I would not remove the sunglasses through the entire encounter. These people would not get a chance to blind me with their pictures of dazzling lakes and scenic mountain country. Besides which, I could care less about that crap.

Upon filling out my demographic profile, I then awaited the arrival of my own personal tour guide. I wasn't kept waiting for long, as the receptionists started getting a little jittery when I stood up, walked over to the magazine rack, and picked up a dog-eared copy of "Woman's Day". With a flourish, I flipped through the pages, ensuring that the cover of the magazine was visible to the reception area at all times. When a sharply dressed young man named Jason appeared and called my name, I started to take the magazine with me. However, this was just a ruse as I set it down right in front of him when he offered me a handshake. I limp-wristed the handshake just to make him wonder, and when he asked how I was I proclaimed in a soaring falsetto "FABULOUS!" I'm not sure, but I think this was the point at which Jason began questioning his career path.

First of all, Jason sat me down in a giant room filled with rustic-looking tables to get a better handle on my vacation plans. I informed Jason that I don't currently vacation, but that I was planning a vacation to Russia in the year 2007 and a trip to Vancouver in the near future to visit their "coffee houses". He was shocked to learn that my total budget for those two trips was only $1000. He asked me how I planned to pull that off, and I informed him of the time honored tradition that my family has of flying to other cities to panhandle. Needless to say, he was not amused. A few more inane questions and we were out the door to start the tour.

Our first stop put us at a cabin, which was fairly nice. Of course, the model is always going to be nice, so I wasn't swayed by the looks of the joint. I refused to even acknowledge the presence of any of the amenities, instead choosing to lay on the bed for a good minute and a half. I don't think Jason really liked it when I rumpled the sheets up and curled up with one of the pillows, but he bit his tongue like a good trooper. He moved on to show me the stables, where I told him that I wasn't allowed around horses anymore since "the incident". He started to inquire what incident I was talking about, but a round of head twitching discouraged any more conversation on that topic.

We then moved on to see the lodge accommodations, which were a little nicer than a cabin. When looking in the bathroom, I noticed that the bathtub was filled with nearly fluorescent blue-tinted water. I demanded to know what was wrong with the water, and if there was a toxic landfill nearby. Jason tried to assure me that the coloring was merely for effect in demonstrating the whirlpool bath, at which point I told him that nobody wants to picture themselves bathing in fallout water, and that he would do well to drain that stuff immediately and replace it with fresh water. After he chose to ignore my suggestions, I demanded that we leave the lodge accommodations immediately to move on in our tour.

Our next stop was at the trading post, which was the resort's snack bar and activities center. Jason asked me at this point what activities I liked to do, listing some of the amenities of the center. I told him I really enjoyed gambling and hookers. He didn't quite catch that last part, so I inquired which one of the accommodations included it's own hooker. Jason insisted that the resort was a family-oriented place, so I asked him how he liked discriminating against single people for a living. That seemed to infuriate him a bit, and shut him up for a good 3 minutes. It was the best 3 minutes of the tour.

Our final stop was a tour of the new presidential accommodations, which were 2 bedroom waterfront condos. It was here that I decided to make one of my final moves, asking for a moment when our little journey reached the bathroom. I relieved myself of the Sonic breakfast burrito I had consumed on the way up, making sure to turn on the fan just before the next tour arrived. I wonder if they asked their tour guide about the smell.

Jason hurried me back to our starting point, at which point he ran through some numbers telling me why buying into this timeshare was the only smart move I could make and that I'd be throwing my money away if I vacationed elsewhere. At this point I started on a little story about how I grew up on a lake isolated from everyone else I knew, and that the thought of being on a lake for a week made my skin crawl. He then informed me that they also have sister resorts in other locations which you could stay at with your purchased week. I asked him where the coolest place was that they had a resort, and he responded "Branson, MO". I laughed at this for a good 30 seconds.

About halfway through the sales pitch, I noticed a very lovely brunette sales representative sit down a few tables away from us. While Jason was blathering on about the virtues of the timeshare, I just stared unabashedly at this beauty. Eventually Jason followed my gaze and started trailing off, as he realized I wasn't paying the slightest attention to him. Once he stopped for a breath, I turned back to him and said "You know, I really wish she had taken me on the tour and not you". After saying no to his sales pitch a few times, Jason went and invited his manager, Dan, over to talk with me. Dan asked me why I didn't want to buy, and tried to guilt me into buying. He tried the tactic of pointing out all the fabulous gifts I was going to receive, reiterated the points that Jason tried to make earlier, and even offered me a discounted plan. Again, I said no about a thousand times. Dan followed up with his district manager, who oh-so-conveniently was visiting that day. The district manager gave me yet another discounted sales pitch, at which point I told him "Look buddy, you're trying to sell ice to an Eskimo. But I'm not leaving here without my free trinkets. So you can either move me on to gifting, or I will start taking off clothes." Sizing me up, he decided that seeing me strip would not be a good start to his day, and he sent me on my way to gifting.

In gifting, I got my Vegas trip and exotic island getaway vouchers without incident. Of course I didn't win the Hummer or $40,000. Maybe I'll send the vouchers in (the Vegas trip requires that you send in money to get the actual airline tickets and hotel accommodations), maybe I won't. But one thing is for certain: that timeshare in Conroe will never forget the day they invited me to visit.