Battle for the Buck

There we were. Third story of a large cement building. The air was tense. Too tense. Someone had to give. We couldn't go on like this for much longer. Sweat beads on foreheads. The suspense was stifling. My eyes darted back and forth, checking for any point of weakness. There was none. They were a brick wall. I had given my best, and they had responded. We met head to head but still did not see eye to eye.
"Fifteen." "Twelve." "Fourteen." "Who do you think I am? Bill Gates?" "For that remark, sixteen." We were in the midst of a vital negotiation. Five ties were at the center of our heated discussion. A tense game of financial limbo. How low can you go?
"Fine. Let me call my supplier and see what I can do." "Thanks."
The tension seemed to subside to a below nuclear war alert level. That is, until the clerk began to speak. "Senora, we have some Mormons here who want to buy ties..." The tension spiked to new levels. Blood pressure rose. Faces flushed. "We aren't Mormons!!!" came out more as a yell than a statement. She covered the receiver and whispered, "I don't care. They give Mormons a better price!"
We took the price, gave a tract, and now I have several ties (none of which look anything like what a Mormon would wear!).