Would You Like to Try Some Rye Dip?

With a cordial smile of expectation, Penny the Samples Lady holds up in her gloved right hand a piece of bread smothered in a creamy, white sauce. As people walk by her in the chaotic aisles of the bakery section at Wegmans, she searches for their attention, longing for eye contact, and says, “Would you like to try some rye dip?”

The gentle yet unwaveringly firm tenor of her voice does not betray her grandmotherly appearance. Her highly wrinkled face is one of age, and her hair is white-blond in an unnatural way, suggesting the typical dye job of a woman in her sixties. She is dressed all in sterile white with the exception of her black shoes. Her feet are rooted to the floor, her back is hunched over, and her left hand clutches the edge of her little wooden table, supporting her considerably plump figure. Her tired eyes indicate an unsuccessfully hidden boredom.

Penny understands that this is her role. She is a faithful sentry to her post, her table, on which sits a bag of bread, the bowl of dip and a sign that screams an allergen warning for the Wegmans patrons. Penny realizes that she is a performer at a Saturday matinee, and that the shoppers are her audience. She must only deviate from her performance when addressing her colleagues, who at times break her concentration with a “where do I put this?” or a “where does that go?”

“Would you like to try some rye dip?,” she continues asking in an oddly rhythmic manner, placing particular emphasis on “like” and “try” and “rye.” Her question, always masterfully repeated exactly the same way, a product of many hours of practice, cuts through the cacophony of metal shopping carts and bustling customers: “Would you like to try some rye dip? Would you like to try some rye dip?”

Even when people ask for clarification – “ragget, you say? what kind of dip? what’s this called?” – Penny responds simply with “rye dip?,” dictated in the same tone. She must never be unfaithful to her script.

She is methodical in her preparation of the samples. When someone takes the bread from her hand, she immediately arranges the next. She removes a chunk of bread from a bag of little bits. Slowly dunks it twice. Wipes the excess off on the brim of the container. Raises her arm, elbow bent, as if administering the Christian Eucharist.

Penny elicits mixed responses from those who pass her. To some, she is The Samples Lady, Deliverer of Joy and Light…or at least bits of whole grain bread caked with dip, which serve as symbols of joy and light. These people see her and start grinning, anticipating their stop at The Samples Lady to see what she has for them today. They love The Samples Lady and what she stands for: the best little things in life truly are free!

To others, Penny is a bother, skilled with making them uncomfortable. They don’t like being asked “Would you like to try some rye dip?” while they’re trying to shop. They dread the awkward moment that follows a refusal of Penny’s rye dip. Her face falls. She is stung by the rejection, the lack of appreciation for her service of administering the samples. She doesn’t ask for much, just that people acknowledge her presence and give her rye dip a chance.

Despite the refusals, which are more frequent than those who laud The Sample Lady can believe, Penny recovers quickly. She must realize that not everyone understands the effort and precision that her job requires. She must focus on the customers who anticipate her samples and fulfill her obligation to her employer.

“Would you like to try some rye dip? Would you like to try some rye dip?”