"Can I help you?"
"Yes, do you stock Shure microphones?" I was half hoping that he wouldn't know, and would just send us downstairs to where the DJ stuff was (and the exit).
"Sure, I'll take you down. What are you looking for?"
"SM-57s," I responded, choosing what I consider the rarer model that he would be less likely to know about.
"Oh, are you doing some recording or something?"
"No, sound reinforcement."
"Oh, ok. Well, here they are."
"How many do you have in stock?"
"How many do you need?"
"I don't know, maybe 5 or more? It's for my brother, I told him I would swing by and check to see if you had them in your inventory."
"Well, we should have at least 5, maybe as many as a dozen."
"How much are they?"
"Do you do any sort of bulk discount?"
"Only for orders of several dozen or more."
"Not even like a 10% something?
"Sorry man, no."
"Ok, thanks. I'll let him know. Thanks for your help."
My friend asked as we left, "What was that? Do you really need microphones."
"No," I replied, "I was just making sure they would remember us if it came to complaining about a tow charge, and it was on our way out anyway."
"It's unsettling to see how fluently you lie. I mean, I thought I knew from the start that it was a lie, but then you kept adding these odd details and follow-up questions that normal people wouldn't think to include in a lie and I started to wonder myself. You did that same thing on our trip a couple years ago with those city rats -- you made up an entire life history on the spot without a single hesitation. It makes me wonder how I would ever be able to tell if you were lying to me."
"Yeah, I know. I say it with just the right earnestness and sincerity. It's sometimes hard for me to tell when I'm lying too."