So the other day I was popping in and out of stores on the mad search for a new winter coat because mine mysteriously disappeared during our move.
If you see a moving guy sporting a black Juicy coat, be very suspicious.
I didn’t have Dylan and Summer with me so I knew I had to take advantage of this opportunity. Because obviously, it’s a whole lot easier to just pick up and move to warmer climate than try to buy a winter coat with children in tow.
So I was all geared up for my speed shopping expedition but I seriously underestimated the challenge of overzealous sales clerks.
Like at one store, there was this sales girl who must be very lonely or very misguided on the best way to secure a commission because she could not stop talking to me. Let’s call her Harmony. Mostly because that was actually her name.
So Harmony gives me a big welcome to the store. I say hi (because that’s what civilized people do even if they don’t feel like it) and then I take a quick left into the sweater section to avoid any further conversation. But whom do I run into there? Oh, Harmony again.
She wants to show me their fall collection. I politely smile.
And then she wants to know if I have any questions.
Yes Harmony, I have a plethora of questions. Is Harmony your real name? Or just your stage name? Why does Ashlee Simpson only have one expression in every scene on “Melrose Place?” Why is the super hilarious Michael Kors never on “Project Runway” anymore? When will Summer stop asking me for a purple bed, a purple room, a purple car and a purple house? And most pertinent at this very moment, why are you following me around the store?
But I have no time to ask her any of this because I have 28 minutes to try to find a winter coat.
So I leave. In search of stores with far less sales help.
I finally did find a coat. Which I was very excited about until I brought it home. And then realized I didn’t quite like how it fit me. Or the color. Or the style. So I’m returning it.
Maybe I could have used, what is it called again? Oh right. Sales help.
mama bird notes:
A thank you to the always fabulous Storked! (The Daily Single Mom Blog on Glamour) and the always entertaining Strollerderby on Babble for linking to my How I Got Dumped By My Babysitter post. There are a lot of opinions out there on whether a babysitter should have to clean poop out of a kid’s potty. Despite being told I’m “uptight” and I really need to “loosen up,” I’m sticking to my belief that no poop should be left behind in a potty.