The Amazing Escape from That CD Shop

My colleagues suggested going to Great World City for lunch today. And so we did. After a soup and bread / pasta lunch at Cedele, we decided to run our respective errands and meet at … That CD Shop.
My Spidey-senses tingled. I sensed impending doom and irreparable damage (to my bank account).
Braving the shopaholic radiation permeating from every item, I peeked inside the store. Seeing nobody familiar (except for the lone salesman who hardly talks to me anyway), I stepped in with the same sense of exultation that a burglar probably feels when he breaks into a house and nobody’s at home.
I walked around and found myself standing in front of a stack of chillout and lounge-type compilation albums. After a quick count, I realised I already owned eleven of them. That was rather disturbing. I continued to walk around the store.
“A-ha!!” A familiar voice called out.
I spun around to see the Salesgirl who was responsible for selling me the last three of those CDs [Note: her achievements merit using a capital ‘S’.]. I didn’t see her coming! I had nowhere to hide!
She read my mind. “I saw you trying to hide from me!” she teased gleefully, before getting down to serious business.
“We have some new stock,” she began.
[Echo: “New stock … new stock … new stock …”]
She moved swiftly, walking to the stack of CDs (the pile which I mostly own) and naturally selected a new CD which she *knew* I didn’t have. Admittedly that CD had caught my attention more than the others a few minutes ago, but I didn’t want to tell her THAT.
“Have you tried this? There are many in the series but this one is more your style.”
MY style. She remembered a little something about my tastes. Big deal. I said OK, I’d listen to it.
Since the salesman was still playing music on the main speakers for another customer, she decided to pick up, oh, a few more CDs for me to try.
She held up a Shanghai jazz compilation. “How about this one? I know you don’t like Chinese music but you should try it.” Right. She remembered another thing about me.
She walked around the store, picking out other CDs she didn’t have a chance to play to me before. Amused as I was at my situation, I protested, “I don’t have much time. This is my lunch break!”
Frankly, I was ready to bolt the moment our last colleague arrived at the store.
“Oh it’s VERY good that you’re spending your lunch break here,” she purred.
What was I going to do? The other customer was nearly done listening to his CDs and soon it would be my turn. I knew I was reaching the point of no escape. If the music she played was good, I’d turn into an automaton. My head would nod, my feet would tap and my hands would reach out for my credit card. Later that evening, I would awaken on my bed, with chic foreign music playing on my stereo.
In the nick of time, our last colleague arrived. I told the Salesgirl I had to go. I promised to come back another time. She protested good-naturedly (do they get a huge commission out of this or what??) but let me go.
I shook off my shackles, and thanked my colleague profusely for showing up.