Ernest Hemingway:

As Ernest Hemingway once said...
'All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know.'

Thursday, October 26, 2006

the mall is evil

Today I went to Victoria's Secret to redeem my coupon for a free pair of panties. They send these to me all the time - nice, huh? Their panties are damned expensive, so it's actually quite a deal. I don't know how I got on the mailing list, but I'm not complaining. They're really trying to get me to buy a bra with the sly little $10 off (as if that even makes a dent in the price of their bras). It doesn't work. I have no problem telling them I don't need a bra when they inevitably hound me about it at the register. Free panties only, thankyouverymuch.

Anyway, I was at the humungous table of panties today deciding which pair I wanted. Not which color, mind you - they limit that. But which cut. I was checking out the sizes of the hiphuggers, my favorites, when I was approached by a rather large employee. Of course there wasn't an employee to be found when I needed one earlier except for the extremely gay male behind the register ringing out a line of people. That was a first. The only men I've previously see in Victoria's Secret are very awkwardly following their woman around or picking out a gift, which is hilarious.

But I digress. Back to the table of panties. The large employee approaches me as I'm inspecting the hiphuggers and asks me, with a huge smile, what kind of bra I'm looking for. I stopped, looked at her with what can only be described as utter confusion, and told her I wasn't looking for a bra at all, but for underwear. She proceeded to explain the underwear (as though that was necessary), then finally left. I'm surprised she stuck around, as I'm pretty sure I sounded condescending, which isn't unusual for me when someone does something horrendously stupid. I can't help it. I know it's bad.

I couldn't help but laugh as I left the store. The vulture-like nature of sales in the small boutique has gotten outrageous lately, but this was too much. She couldn't even take the time to see what I was looking at before spilling some ridiculous question meant to trap me into buying a bra. Please. What a crock.

I later allowed myself to get roped into applying for an Express card. Those dirty bastards and their stinking 15%.

No comments: