In any case, Josie is always gracious to take me around to all the stores that they have in the burbs but not in Ada. My favorite is Lane Bryant, and at the LB near Josie there's a Dress Barn next door.
If there is a Dress Barn in the greater Lima region, I am unaware of it, but in any case my first impression when I saw this store was incredulity.
[editor's note: Leslie would like all her readers to know that she spelled "incredulity" correctly the first time. Feel free to be impressed.]
What marketing genius decided to name a womens clothing store "Dress Barn"? It's like naming a sandwich place "Roly Poly". There are some images that shouldn't come to mind when a potential customer looks at your company's name. One of those things would be barns.
Thoughts of "big as a barn" and "broad side of a barn" come to mind; not exactly complimentary. But whatever; last summer I had good luck at a Dress Barn in Minnesota; I'll give it a whirl (my trip to Lane Bryant having been a big disappointment, I was eager to redeem the shopping trip). Among other potential purchases, I grabbed three jackets off the clearance rack [GOD BLESS AMERICA'S OBSESSION WITH SALES!] and headed for the dressing room.
Thirty minutes later, Josie patiently and dutifully giving her opinion on each item, I had narrowed it down to two dress shirts and two jackets, from which I needed to choose one. I've been wearing the same black jacket for the past...maybe 8 years? So a jacket decision seemed important at the time.
One jacket was a short, khaki-colored trench coat. The other was black pleather. Neither coat was a normal style for me, but I liked both of them. Then we noticed some black gunk on the trench coat. We debated whether the marks would come out. Then we contemplated the potential difficultly of keeping the light-colored coat clean.
[note: I bet if you're a man, you're really glad you weren't present at this shopping trip about now]
Finally I decided against the trench coat. This left me with the decision of whether or not I was going to dive into the world of pleather clothing. Perhaps I was a bit low on protein, because the decision seemed pretty significant at the time.
In the midst of the dilemma, Josie and I had moved back to the clearance rack and there we loitered as I struggled to be decisive.
Enter Crazy Pushy Lady. She, too, was looking through the clearance rack. About 60, with gray-colored-blond hair, she pawed through the options, chatting with us as if she knew us.
[note: I keep being surprised at how often that happens here. Complete strangers will talk to each other in stores sometimes. That NEVER happens to me in Quito]
After a bit of looking, she focuses in on the pleather coat section. She tries on a couple, and remarks that the one I have must be the last one in our size, and that the other, similar black pleather jacket offered doesn't fit her as well. Josie and I are polite and say something non-committal, like, "Oh, yeah?" and go back to our own decision. A minute or so later, the woman points out another rack with more black pleather jackets. At this point Josie looks at me significantly, saying with her eyes, "Wow, this woman's a bit pushy, no?" I smile; we obligingly look at the other jackets, which I do not like. We come back and the woman asks about what we found. I say they're different and I don't really like them. She finally just comes out and says it: "I want that jacket!" She's pretending she's joking, but we all know she's not joking; she is, rather, trying to do this impolite thing politely.
I finally decide to buy the jacket I have. I'm not gonna lie: this woman's pushiness may....possibly...have influenced my decision. A skoshe. Maybe.
We head up to the cashier (Josie, not doubt breathing a discreet sigh of relief) and get up there in time to hear Crazy Pushy Lady loudly telling the cashier that she wants them to call the other Dress Barns in the area to ask them to send another of the jackets to this store. She reiterates for all of us to hear, "This one doesn't fit the same. The other one is better. It's just too bad; if I'd have come in just ONE MINUTE earlier!" blah, blah, blah. The cashiers inform her that another store can't send one because it's clearance. Crazy Pushy Lady retorts emphatically that she's drive to the other store!! It's THAT important!
I put my purchases on the counter to be rung up and Crazy Pushy Lady asks if she can just try on the jacket, just to make sure. At this point, I'm starting to get a little perturbed. I want to say, "Woman, get over yourself." Instead, I hand over the jacket.
I sneak a peek at Josie, on my other side. By now, she's rolling her eyes and shaking her head in disbelief. My sentiments exactly. We finally pay and escape Crazy Pushy Lady and flee into the cool darkness of the Cleveland-suburb night. As we walk back to the car, we discuss the obnoxiousness of Crazy Pushy Lady. Josie comments that she's glad I bought the jacket just because she didn't want Crazy Pushy Lady to get it. I laughed and said it reminded me of dealing with a student who's clearly always been able to get his way at home if he nags his parents enough. Welcome to your new reality, friends! I teach middle school. If I could be worn down by persistent whining, it would have happened by now.
Poor Crazy Pushy Lady. She didn't stand a chance. And besides, the jacket looked better on me anyway. :)
2 comments:
You go, middle school teacher! Nobody messes with us!! :)
Your story is funnier, but I have one to add to the category. I was in the Dollar General Store yesterday and had a stack of small trash cans in my cart (for temporary outdoor plant pots, because $1 is better than $3). An elderly lady nearby asked if they had any in white; I said no, and told her (nicely) that I was buying all of them anyway. The next minute she came up to my cart, announced that she would "take a blue one after all," thanked me, and walked off with it! People are so strange sometimes.
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