Not keeping any secrets

I took a few minutes between work and my client dinner last night to stop at the enormous destination mall we live a block from to return some undergarments to Victoria's Secret. Last time I was there (part of the mall trip that included seeing Terminator) I got overexcited and bought more stuff than was really necessary. Plus, their big sale started Tuesday so I figured I would be clever and swap out full price items for sale items.

I returned my full price items and figured I'd take a look at the sale items to see if anything appealed. I'm not a good shopper to begin with and I 'm especially not a good bin shopper. I get really crabby really quickly. My mother can confirm this.

Historically, this sale has been a huge event for Victoria's Secret and I'm sure they've learned in years past that they need to be staffed appropriately so, understandably, the store was teeming with Associates.

I am not exaggerating when I tell you that I was asked 11 times in less than 4 minutes* if I was finding everything OK and if I was looking for anything specific. Then they want to fill out a card with your name and bra size. I was very pleasant to the first five. The next few I was a little more curt with. Numbers 8 and 9 I snarled and hissed at. Number 10 got a cold, unforgiving stare. Number 11 I just ignored.

In yoga classes, some studios offer you a card or a stone or something that you can set next to your mat to indicate that you don't want to be adjusted or touched. I need the retail equivalent of that. This might be a good start.


*Using not round numbers makes it sound more believable and is also funnier.