Customary Disservice
I'm-a gonna update this later with a problem anybody who has stepped into a mall, grocery store, and/or other-than-7'11 can attest to...
The Aggressively Friendly Store Representative
I'm starting a movement. It's either to get store workers to back the truck off a bit, or yesterday's sushi.
I'll drop it later.
Which is NOW:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I took last Friday off of work to do a little bit of everything. I organized some of my new life in the new pad, wrote a few jokes, read a bit, balanced my budget, and then headed off to see my dad for a bit.
On the way to the joint my dad is at, I swung by a low-high-end clothing retailer that is in the midst of its Anniversary Sale. It's not an event you can truly capitalize on unless you are a man with extra time and $500 on hand to buy some clothes you kind of like, if you can find your size, which you can't, because you've always been on the big side, but thanks to the epidemic known as American Fatass, seems everyone's an XL. SoI'm losing weight just to comfortably wear just the L.
So I'm looking for my sizes in jeans and sweaters and pants and what-not, as I have plenty of clothes I've donated and can't keep wearing two pairs of jeans all the time. My peasant legs and hips and ass can wear out pants like a glory hole in a Ketchikan tavern. Anyway… in the span of 5 minutes in about 50 square feet of retail space, I was approached 11 times by 4 different "Sales Associates" or whatever they call them instead of "wondering what career to choose with a quarter of community college under their studded white belts." 16 times. 5 SaAsses.
This is a growing deal, thing, issue, problem, hot-button in the marketplace: Aggro-Friendly employees. Can they help you find something? Are you finding everything alright? How are you today? What's on your shirt? Are your boobs real? I meant no offense, Ma'am, I was… SIR, I meant Sir, and yes I see the beard… and no I guess I didn't HAVE to use quotation fingers when I said beard, but it's really not…
You get the picture. It's too much. Constant interruption of a single quiet moment trying to mate two ideas in my head as a combo that is worthy of my getting out of bed for 27 minutes.
Thinking to myself, Hey, nice shirt, it would look good wi
"Hi, can I help you find something?" I think I found it, thanks. But I'll make sure to tell the Lindsey with the green shirt that the Lindsey with the white shirt helped me! 22 times. 19 people.
Okay, this shirt and these jea
"How's it goin'? Findin' everything okay?" Uh, yeah, just trying to match a shirt up with some jeans. "Oh wow, have you seen like these jeans? They're really awesome, and like look good with like everylikethilikeng." I'm holding a pair right here in fact. (silent head bobbing, interrupted by me, farting). "Okay, well if you need help my name's LindsAy." Charmed. 39 times, 900 people. And a muskrat.
Okay so this ball-peen hammer… no, these jeans and this ski-mask with a bite plate, SHIT, no… THIS SHIRT, and the jeans I got yester
"Hey, finding everything you're looking for? Can I start you a room?"
742 times, 2 people in a rapid customer revolution ball like those motorcycle cages.
Yes, please yes, start me a room with a bed and some piano concertos playing and no windows and just a bed with the piano tinkering and give me 5 minutes in there in the dark, please? Then I can make it the rest of the day while having a complete thought and not feel like "consumerism" is actually a movement that hates consumers and creates animosity towards entities such as Nordstr
"Mass like awesome. I'll get room 3 started for you."
I came-to about an hour later in the car, behind a convenience store with my wallet in my teeth and a photocopy of my face. The back read "You're to fat too shop here." The transposed "too" and "to" in bubbly letters cemented the legitimacy of it for me. I didn't even get what I went in there for. And in my rage I realized that those girls and the one really happy guy needed jobs, too. They needed extra dough, and I wanted to help them out, but it just wasn't happening that day. I'll try again, I'm sure, sometime. I guess I could shop on-line, but it's just so impersonal.
========
Take Me Home
My Blog About My Dad
The Aggressively Friendly Store Representative
I'm starting a movement. It's either to get store workers to back the truck off a bit, or yesterday's sushi.
I'll drop it later.
Which is NOW:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I took last Friday off of work to do a little bit of everything. I organized some of my new life in the new pad, wrote a few jokes, read a bit, balanced my budget, and then headed off to see my dad for a bit.
On the way to the joint my dad is at, I swung by a low-high-end clothing retailer that is in the midst of its Anniversary Sale. It's not an event you can truly capitalize on unless you are a man with extra time and $500 on hand to buy some clothes you kind of like, if you can find your size, which you can't, because you've always been on the big side, but thanks to the epidemic known as American Fatass, seems everyone's an XL. SoI'm losing weight just to comfortably wear just the L.
So I'm looking for my sizes in jeans and sweaters and pants and what-not, as I have plenty of clothes I've donated and can't keep wearing two pairs of jeans all the time. My peasant legs and hips and ass can wear out pants like a glory hole in a Ketchikan tavern. Anyway… in the span of 5 minutes in about 50 square feet of retail space, I was approached 11 times by 4 different "Sales Associates" or whatever they call them instead of "wondering what career to choose with a quarter of community college under their studded white belts." 16 times. 5 SaAsses.
This is a growing deal, thing, issue, problem, hot-button in the marketplace: Aggro-Friendly employees. Can they help you find something? Are you finding everything alright? How are you today? What's on your shirt? Are your boobs real? I meant no offense, Ma'am, I was… SIR, I meant Sir, and yes I see the beard… and no I guess I didn't HAVE to use quotation fingers when I said beard, but it's really not…
You get the picture. It's too much. Constant interruption of a single quiet moment trying to mate two ideas in my head as a combo that is worthy of my getting out of bed for 27 minutes.
Thinking to myself, Hey, nice shirt, it would look good wi
"Hi, can I help you find something?" I think I found it, thanks. But I'll make sure to tell the Lindsey with the green shirt that the Lindsey with the white shirt helped me! 22 times. 19 people.
Okay, this shirt and these jea
"How's it goin'? Findin' everything okay?" Uh, yeah, just trying to match a shirt up with some jeans. "Oh wow, have you seen like these jeans? They're really awesome, and like look good with like everylikethilikeng." I'm holding a pair right here in fact. (silent head bobbing, interrupted by me, farting). "Okay, well if you need help my name's LindsAy." Charmed. 39 times, 900 people. And a muskrat.
Okay so this ball-peen hammer… no, these jeans and this ski-mask with a bite plate, SHIT, no… THIS SHIRT, and the jeans I got yester
"Hey, finding everything you're looking for? Can I start you a room?"
742 times, 2 people in a rapid customer revolution ball like those motorcycle cages.
Yes, please yes, start me a room with a bed and some piano concertos playing and no windows and just a bed with the piano tinkering and give me 5 minutes in there in the dark, please? Then I can make it the rest of the day while having a complete thought and not feel like "consumerism" is actually a movement that hates consumers and creates animosity towards entities such as Nordstr
"Mass like awesome. I'll get room 3 started for you."
I came-to about an hour later in the car, behind a convenience store with my wallet in my teeth and a photocopy of my face. The back read "You're to fat too shop here." The transposed "too" and "to" in bubbly letters cemented the legitimacy of it for me. I didn't even get what I went in there for. And in my rage I realized that those girls and the one really happy guy needed jobs, too. They needed extra dough, and I wanted to help them out, but it just wasn't happening that day. I'll try again, I'm sure, sometime. I guess I could shop on-line, but it's just so impersonal.
========
Take Me Home
My Blog About My Dad
