A glutton for punishment, I guess...
I went to the mall today, which is the third or forth time I have been to a mall in as many days. Which may lead some of the readers to think me a liar since I have espoused my hatred for malls, but the fact is I have to buy clothes for work and malls are a necessity.
But I got to the mall before the bulk of the stores opened up and so I had some time to toodle around and look at some of the stuff in the windows. Victoria's Secret had this apalling display that was a baby doll t-shirt that said, "My Dog Ate My Homework"
(see there it is, in all its radiance, on a total side note I feel like I am really getting the hang of this HTML thing.)
Anyway the way it was set up up in the window display, with a thong and some butt shorts, made me kind of cringe because the thing that it instantly made me think of was a bunch of male ad execs sitting around a table and discussing the new line of "hip clothes" that they would be putting out. Anyway the scenario involved some debate and then finally one of them came up with the campaign and they all loved it and now they are advertising Victoria's Secret as, "Why be smart when you skate through life on your looks and sex appeal."
It kind of made me wretch, and I think Susan B. Anthony and the entire Seneca Falls convention attendees flipped in their graves.
The other thing that happened was as I was leaving Men's Wearhouse this salesman accosted me with the strangest selling technique I have ever encountered. As I was coming out of the store, he looked at me and said, "Sir, Sir, I was wondering if I could talk to you about..." I kind of cut him off because he works for this spa products line called Dead Sea Spa and these guys are like fucking jackals. If you give them a little leeway they will gouge you and put all this shit on you and if you don't make a purchase, they put some weird voodoo/gypsy curse on you and your crotch will burn like you had habanero underwear on. Anyway so I try to blow the guy off politely by saying, something to the effect of no thanks, I am running late, or I am really not interested in your shit, but thanks anyway, have a nice day. Then this son-of-a-bitch says, "well I think you could really use it, if you would just let me show you because I was looking at your feet..."
Cue 67: TRAIN WRECK, or VEHICLE CRASH
I stopped dead in my tracks, and turned around. I have never really come close to throttling a retail salesman before but this guy came pretty close. Why was this guy looking at my feet? It creeped me out. And what did he think was going to happen when he said he had been looking at my feet? If you know me, you would now that I spend exactly zero minutes a day looking at my feet, or at least looking at them as a fashion accessory; in fact, I usually try to cover them up. But did he think that I was going become ashamed and finally open up the disgrace and self loathing I feel because of my feet and ask him to sell me methylethylalcohol products so that I might become proud of them? I think I told the guy, "I am really not interested," and walked out.
The other thing that happened to me when I was walking to work was that I was talking to my friend on the old cellular telephony device and as I was walking some old pan handler asked me for money. Normally I just say, "sorry man," and keep walking, but I was in a sour mood because of Salesy O'Saleshan from the Dip Shit Spa company and I pointed to my phone and said, "Hey man I am talking on the phone."
The pan-handlers response was mind-blowing. He said, " yeah, man I hear you that is a good excuse... help someone out." The ellipses are the point where my blood gushed into my brain and nearly made head explode. So I am not going to make something up but I think it was something about why I shouldn't have to help someone out. I wanted to turn around to that dude and explain to him that my being on the phone was not an excuse for not giving money, it was a reason. I actually was on the phone when he interrupted my conversation to give me some sad sack excuse why he needed a dollar.
I should have showed him my feet and said, "Sorry dude, I would give you money but I just bought this salt rub for my feet."
Why was he looking at my feet? Jeebus, what a creepy bastard.
But I got to the mall before the bulk of the stores opened up and so I had some time to toodle around and look at some of the stuff in the windows. Victoria's Secret had this apalling display that was a baby doll t-shirt that said, "My Dog Ate My Homework"
(see there it is, in all its radiance, on a total side note I feel like I am really getting the hang of this HTML thing.)
Anyway the way it was set up up in the window display, with a thong and some butt shorts, made me kind of cringe because the thing that it instantly made me think of was a bunch of male ad execs sitting around a table and discussing the new line of "hip clothes" that they would be putting out. Anyway the scenario involved some debate and then finally one of them came up with the campaign and they all loved it and now they are advertising Victoria's Secret as, "Why be smart when you skate through life on your looks and sex appeal."
It kind of made me wretch, and I think Susan B. Anthony and the entire Seneca Falls convention attendees flipped in their graves.
The other thing that happened was as I was leaving Men's Wearhouse this salesman accosted me with the strangest selling technique I have ever encountered. As I was coming out of the store, he looked at me and said, "Sir, Sir, I was wondering if I could talk to you about..." I kind of cut him off because he works for this spa products line called Dead Sea Spa and these guys are like fucking jackals. If you give them a little leeway they will gouge you and put all this shit on you and if you don't make a purchase, they put some weird voodoo/gypsy curse on you and your crotch will burn like you had habanero underwear on. Anyway so I try to blow the guy off politely by saying, something to the effect of no thanks, I am running late, or I am really not interested in your shit, but thanks anyway, have a nice day. Then this son-of-a-bitch says, "well I think you could really use it, if you would just let me show you because I was looking at your feet..."
Cue 67: TRAIN WRECK, or VEHICLE CRASH
I stopped dead in my tracks, and turned around. I have never really come close to throttling a retail salesman before but this guy came pretty close. Why was this guy looking at my feet? It creeped me out. And what did he think was going to happen when he said he had been looking at my feet? If you know me, you would now that I spend exactly zero minutes a day looking at my feet, or at least looking at them as a fashion accessory; in fact, I usually try to cover them up. But did he think that I was going become ashamed and finally open up the disgrace and self loathing I feel because of my feet and ask him to sell me methylethylalcohol products so that I might become proud of them? I think I told the guy, "I am really not interested," and walked out.
The other thing that happened to me when I was walking to work was that I was talking to my friend on the old cellular telephony device and as I was walking some old pan handler asked me for money. Normally I just say, "sorry man," and keep walking, but I was in a sour mood because of Salesy O'Saleshan from the Dip Shit Spa company and I pointed to my phone and said, "Hey man I am talking on the phone."
The pan-handlers response was mind-blowing. He said, " yeah, man I hear you that is a good excuse... help someone out." The ellipses are the point where my blood gushed into my brain and nearly made head explode. So I am not going to make something up but I think it was something about why I shouldn't have to help someone out. I wanted to turn around to that dude and explain to him that my being on the phone was not an excuse for not giving money, it was a reason. I actually was on the phone when he interrupted my conversation to give me some sad sack excuse why he needed a dollar.
I should have showed him my feet and said, "Sorry dude, I would give you money but I just bought this salt rub for my feet."
Why was he looking at my feet? Jeebus, what a creepy bastard.
posted by V. at 10:50 PM
2 Comments:
If you pointed at your feet and told him about the salt rub, you would have had to add "because, as I'm sure is obvious to everyone, including you, sir, I could really use it."
Don't panic. It was probably in his training for when he is desperate for commission.
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