Who Ate My Pancakes?

It might sound silly to start my next career preoccupied with what happened the day I met a realtor for breakfast a couple of years back when I was in the market for a new house. But, the fact is that breakfast is my favorite meal of the day. Not dinner. Not lunch. Breakfast.

Let me explain. When I start my day, I'm almost always in a good mood, particularly when I've had my six hours of sleep. Even when it's raining or snowing cats and dogs, I'm in a good frame if I don't have to leave the house.

Anyway, about my breakfast. It's usually my quality time - with a great pot of brewed coffee, freshly diced fruit, a toasted bran muffin and cream cheese with Mozart (18th century rapper) in the background, the Journal in the foreground (at home, of course). You don't top something like that.

So, I'm sitting in a favorite restaurant one day, waiting for this realtor to show up at 8 in the morning. Let's call her Shelley to protect the innocent (now, how do you know "Shelley" isn't her real name?) At 8:15 Shelley hasn't shown up. I was hungry; so, I put in my order for a stack of buckwheat cakes topped with strawberries and sour cream.

A couple of minutes later, in walks Shelley. She was huffing and puffing so hard, I imagined for a split-second that she had to push the car to the restaurant. She apologized and explained that traffic was snarled and it made her late. I had already assumed as much.

What happened in the ensuing moment was a near tragedy. Shelley placed her order for a soft boiled egg and toast. Then, she asked me if she could be excused to use the ladies room. I wished her well.

I was in the process of ravenously wolfing down my second delicious bite of my stack of cakes when she returned. Suddenly, I noticed an horrendous odor. It was a cross between pine needles and beet juice. There was no doubt in my mind about its origin.

"What on earth is that fragrance you're wearing?" I asked.

"Oh it's a new cologne I discovered when I was in Acapulco last December. Do you like it? It's called Baja Rain, by Juan Dupre!"

"You're kidding me!" I said. "Baja Rain? As in rain from the sky?"

"Exactly!" Shelley said, misconstruing my curiosity for a sign of approval. "It's sensational, don't you think? Juan Dupre is going to be hot, soon. I just know it."

I decided that what Shelley knew about colognes was extremely questionable. While Shelley started chomping on her 3-minute egg, my appetite for food had taken flight. We had a nine o'clock appointment to look at a house. All I had to do was survive the breakfast that I had anticipated to be an ideal spring board for Shelley and me. I could only hope, at 8:40 a.m., that the morning would not be a total waste.

It wasn't. I was very dexterous when I gave Shelley the reasons I needed to drive my own car to the location in question. She did not take offense and jumped into her car to lead the way to what she probably hoped would be a profitable experience. For my part, I drove the distance with all four windows open. The treatment was a relief. Later that morning, I sprayed the interior of my car with an Arm and Hammer air freshener made by Church and Dwight Co. (NYSE-CHD). (Great, great stock, by the way - worth owning before it hits 50. How do I know? I am senior analyst for a fast-growing advisory firm.)

Did I like the house? It was alright, for a forty-year-old frame and brick bungalow, but nothing special. I thought I might work the owners on price for a while.

Let see, so what's the point of this theme (better yet, what is the theme?).

Odors, including the best fragrances can kill an appetite for food. People (including men) ought to be careful about using fragrances, especially in the course of doing business. That about covers it. Don't forget what I said about CHD! (Is this a plug? What do you think?)

Disclosure: "Baja Rain" is a fictious title and does not exist as a product, to my knowledge.

Hudster