Paul Futureshop, Esq.

Every time I go to purchase a significant piece of consumer electronics, I assume it's going to be a battle. No I don't want the extended warranty. No I don't want undercoating on my Blu-Ray player. No I don't want you to come back to my place and "plug it in" for me. Which is why, during my recent search for a new television, I was delighted to meet Paul, a TV salesman at the Downtown Edmonton Futureshop.

Yes, I realize buying a TV from Futureshop seems like I wasn't trying hard enough. But yes, there it is, in my living room, a 40" Sony Bravia Z, the top of the line. Refresh rate = 240 Hz. Ten bit colour panel. It's glorious. But this isn't a television review.

Paul may have been 18. Paul may have been 30. I couldn't say really. He spoke with authority on all things audio/visual, yet still advocated loud metal and video games. In what I'm sure was a direct contravention of the Futureshop sales manual, Paul used the word "fuckin'" several times; in all likelihood, he assessed me, correctly, as someone who would prefer to get to the point, as in, "this TV is fuckin' awesome." Paul displayed a perplexing yet comforting balance of humor, gravity, and childlike good will. And sold me a television that was twice as much money as I had expected to spend.

But I'm okay with it. Paul didn't do anything nefarious to get me to buy it. He showed me what was available. He explained to me the extremely technical inner workings of each TV. He played the same movie on four different screens so I could see the detail in a wheel well in one frame of The Dark Knight. I was convinced: not by Paul, but by the technology itself; Paul just showed it to me. And that's what makes him a great person from whom to buy a TV. He isn't actually a salesman, in the classical sense of the word, but more of a showman, a person who can bring out the best and worst qualities in something to allow you to come to your own conclusions.

By the time my partner showed up, I gave her the two minute version of the last hour I had spent with Paul. She pointed out that neither of us had ever purchased a TV (hand-me-downs and Christmas gifts) so why not get the best TV? This is the only time she has ever advocated spending more money on electronics and I wasn't about to squander it. So Paul sat through the same opening five minutes of The Dark Knight, for I'm sure the fiftieth time that day, so she could see the lug nuts in the wheel well. Convinced. Not because of some sales pitch or promise of more megapixels, but because Paul showed us what better looks like. And that's how I wish all electronics were sold.

So if you're in the market for a new LCD or plasma, just go see Paul. At least, I think his name was Paul.