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You're Not in Luck: I Hate Time Shares

Woke up last week and felt like it was going to be a lucky day. Bought a lottery scratcher ticket and won a few bucks, knowing - just KNOWING - that our numbers would hit later on that night and all our dreams would come true.

At 5:30 PM I got the call: "You entered a drawing in January at the movie theater, and we'd like to congratulate you on being a finalist for the Grand Prize. As a finalist, you can choose from five fabulous vacation getaways. Please call to claim your finalist prize and learn more about the upcoming Grand Prize $100,000 drawing."

I called back...

...to hear about an exclusive opportunity to learn about the benefits of vacation ownership, aka TIME SHARES.

Fuck fuck fuckety fuck.

Now, of course, I was under no obligation to buy, but in order to claim any of the five finalist prizes (cruise to Mexico, Las Vegas weekend, two round-trip tickets on Southwest, San Diego vacation or fabulous ski trip), I'd have to sit through a 90-minute presentation about the cost-effective luxury and ease of owning a time-share, after which I could go into the Grand Prize vault and pull my winning slip... Oh, and I'd have to bring my husband.

Patrick rolled his eyes: "You've got to be fucking kidding me. A time share?"

"Do I have to bring my husband?" I asked.

"Yes, because we want to make sure that all decision-makers are present."

Fuck fuck fuckety fuck. Stupid time shares.

As the day and appointed time crawled near for our exciting "no obligation" catered information session, I realized why I appreciate games of skill (POKER) over games of chance (LOTTERIES) and definitely over shell games (TIME SHARES). We decided we had better ways to spend a Saturday afternoon (upper colonics, bamboo-shoot fingernail insertions, testicular bee swarms) than to listen to spend 90 minutes of a hard-earned Saturday locked-down in a "NO OBLIGATION" discussion about how owning a time-share in Mexico would change my life for the better.

I don't even like Mexico. If I wanted to go to the beach, I'd drive to LA. If I wanted to go to the sweaty interior, I'd go back home to Louisiana. If I wanted to be surrounded by people speaking Spanish... well, I live in Arizona, so I hear my share (and now I'm taking cover so I won't be struck down by a thunder bolt).

And that's when the phone calls started. They left messages on my home and cell phones, hoping we were OK because we'd missed the exciting finalist prize claim / catered information session. All was not lost, we still had a chance to get in on the Grand Prize drawing!

I came back from lunch on Friday to find my cell phone ringing. I knew the number and the drill.

"Hello Stacy, this is Tabitha from Time-Share-Rama. We missed you at the finalist prize claim on Saturday and would like to reschedule so you don't miss out on your opportunity to win the Grand Prize."

"Tabitha, I don't want a time share."

"But Stacy, you're under no obligation to buy - we're merely going to talk to you about the benefits of vacation ownership."

"No, you're not hearing me, Tabitha: I don't like time shares. I don't want to hear about time shares. I don't want to buy a time share. In fact, my favorite episode of South Park is when they talk about how much they hate time shares... so will you please take me off your list?"

She was laughing so hard, I don't think she heard me clearly, but the calls have stopped. Must be my lucky day.

(And feel free to use this line next time you get duped by a time share "contest")


I love that episode of South Park. It is totally true - and you are lucky to have escaped - as your name is not Kenny.