October 16, 2006
The Curse of the Brown Pants
If you want to retain your sanity -- and your friends -- never, ever utter these words:
"I just have to go to one store, and I know exactly what I need. I don't even have to try it on, so it'll take, like, 30 seconds, I swear. Then we can go eat lunch."
Apparently, these words are actually a secret spell that unleashes an ancient, time-sucking curse.
I unwittingly chanted these words on the way to Forth & Towne today with New Girl, who was starving and wasting away to nothing (because she's 22 and didn't have her oatmeal that morning, so most of her ribs were showing because she actually has a working metabolism).
They had every damn size but 12, so I asked the saleslady if she had any in the back because these particular Vocabulary pants are not a seasonal item. They are a staple. They are there ALWAYS. This particular style, this particular brand. So wouldn't you think they'd had tons in stock? Nope -- no 12.
So can you order them for me?
Well, I can see if they have them at another store, and they can send them to you?
Great!
For five dollars.
Whatever.
Why don't you try on a pair of 12s in a different color, just to make sure they fit?
Good idea.
Okay,... hmmm,... not in the black,... okay, and the grey,... hmmm,... we seem to be all out of 12s!
That's weird.
Let me see if we have any of the 12s in any other color in the back.
Alrighty then.
...Nope, no 12s in back, either.
Well, if I get them and they don't fit, can I return them here?
Sure!
Okay, let's do that then.
I'll call our store in Algonquin.
Soon after she got some schmoe in Algonquin on the phone, another woman came up to the register, and saleslady started helping her! Mind you, at the time, employees out-numbered shoppers in the store and, indeed, the entire mall.
So she was describing the pants while trying to entice the other shopper into their frequent buyer program or whatever. Finally, chick on the phone came back and had the pants in stock, so saleslady, naturally, PUT HER ON HOLD to help the woman who showed up well after I did.
Well, my pissy incredulity must have showed on my face, so she went back to giving my information to the woman on the phone while collecting the other woman's information for their points program. I'm probably going to start getting her mail now.
I have two beefs with this saleslady. One, I was there first. Finish helping me before you start helping someone else. It's simple -- we all learned it in kindergarten. And it's especially important for this particular saleslady because of my second beef, and that is that she was completely incapable of any decent multi-tasking.
Doing two things half-assedly is not multi-tasking. Doing two things well is. It's called What Normal Women Do Every Minute Of Every Day. Bitch multi-tasks like a guy!
Then she asked me how I wanted to pay, and I handed her a big wad of cash I had gotten from the ATM specifically for the purchase of these pants.
And she's like, "Oh, I can't do cash over the phone. I need a credit card."
THEN WHY DID YOU ASK ME FOR MY CREDIT CARD INSTEAD OF IMPLYING I HAD ANY OPTIONS?!?!
*pant* *pant* *pant*
For the love of all things pure and rainbow-colored, I just wanted some goddamn brown pants; New Girl was losing her battle with scurvy under a display of cableknit sweaters; and the saleswoman couldn't pay attention to ANY of the seventeen pieces of information she was supposed to be dealing with.
And the really funny part is? I now know who the other woman at the counter is because she gave her email address, and she clearly has her own website. So I looked it up and, sure enough, it's her.
But I'm not giving it to you because it's not her fault the saleslady was a retard.
Did I mention that the saleslady finished with the other woman before she finished with me? Yeah. Stupid bitch. It was the most ridiculous bit of customer service I've ever seen. Abbot and Costello are confused and weeping in their graves right now.
I'd better get my damn pants, soon. 'Cuz I spilled nail polish on my other pair.
Comments
Nothing could be as bad as that Ikea trip.
Posted by: Marty at October 17, 2006 01:07 PM
This very thing is why internet shopping was invented and supported, and has thus grown to such epic proportions.
Posted by: elle at October 17, 2006 11:45 PM