I’m ushered towards the ‘returns/exchanges’ line which already has 5 unhappy customers ahead of me waiting. A part of me wishes I hadn’t scribbled this chore on my ‘to do’ list today. There’s a lot that is going wrong here starting with my reason to be in this line. I don’t think the rep in the front of the store quite understood my dilemma. Secondly, there was a security tag on a $10 pair of shorts I purchased, which in my defense was on sale. I also walked out of the store the other day without the embarrassment of the alarms going off. I got home extremely pleased with my bargain and found a faulty security tag securely clipped to the garment. I did think about prying it off at home but the bright red ink symbol kind of scared me. It would work out to be a costly $10 mistake. Come to think of it, I’ve already exceeded the $10 bargain being here a second time.
I look around and begin my dissection of who would steal a $10 pair of shorts here and who in upper management decided on the ridiculous decision to add a security tag to them. The lady in front of me has a handful of items and she seems unfazed by the line. She’s on her phone trying to navigate someone through the store, most probably her husband. I chuckle at her inability to quieten her voice and the thought of his inability to follow directions through a store with signs.
I feel better as someone sandwiches me in the line, a younger dude who I’m guessing is a new father, by the contents in his cart. He’s as confused as heck trying to figure out some product exchange on his phone with who I’m assuming is his partner in crime. He hunches over the cart handle on his speakerphone as if this is a major exam he’s about to take.
To the right of me is an in-store coffee shop. I’m being hypnotized by the aroma now. Should I? I contemplate skipping this line to indulge. I could ask one of the two individuals either side of me to hold my space but they seem preoccupied and I’d feel like I was interrupting their respective nerve racking sessions. I decide not to coffee right now as the line moves up.
To the left of me is the entryway to the department store that swallows every sucker into the so called sales. I’m aware I was one of them the other day but now I’ve learned my lesson for the next month at least. The neon signs do a good job of controlling that stupid non functioning part of your brain that gives in so easily to the great deal you are about to embark on.
I glance over at the register and see that the conversation over there is not going so well. I’m going to be here for a while it seems. I try signaling to a store representative passing by but she cuts me off telling me she’s on a break. Shouldn’t they be using a separate exit for that excuse or at least remove their uniform so we all know they are on break.
I let out a big sigh and falsely smile at an elderly woman who is ahead of me. She looks around annoyed as if her look could shut up the tall lady who still is having a problem finding her husband. I remember being panicky when I’d lose my child in the store but husband? I don’t remember getting this worked up losing my partner, a part of me would feel ecstatic that I got rid of him for a bit! With age, I have found that I dislike this exercise of shopping. Now I go to the store knowing what I want and head right towards it, then exit as quickly as possible. Except for the last time when I saw a pair of shorts on sale I couldn’t resist. I’ve also come to the conclusion I dislike crowds and messy stores, they give me anxiety. I remember when sales would entice me, now 50 percent of me cringes and the other 50 percent well, bought these shorts! Are we in fact actually getting a good deal or are these marketers so damn good at their job they make us believe we are?
My thoughts are interrupted with more noise and I look over at a toddler having a tantrum, there’s another thing I don’t miss. I do, however, feel sorry for the mother. Children can push buttons you didn’t think you had. While I’m feeling sympathetic at this scene, two teenage girls appear standing adjacent to me, in fact getting too close for comfort. I look around in case I missed something. The young dad behind me has not moved up and left quite a gap in the line. The pair of girls seem to be in a world of their own, I wait a minute to let them finish their giggling session on social media and kindly tell them the line is way behind me now, I get no thank you as they leave. I shake my head at the mannerism or lack of, but I’m not a part of this generation.
The line moves up slowly and with nothing else amusing me, out comes my phone. Nothing exciting there either, so I mindlessly begin walking through my closet to see what will go with my new shorts and if I should wear them out this evening.
The older lady begins yelling about why only one register is open as the line is getting longer. I want to tell her ‘thank you’ for speaking for all of us but she’s beyond agitated now. At this point I too am wondering why I’m wasting moments of my life standing here. I could have been cooking dinner instead which leads me to contemplate if I have all the ingredients for my dish. I quickly shake off the idea as standing in another line seems mortifying right now.
I feel fatigued from doing pretty much nothing but standing. The line moves up, the tall lady leaves to go find her other half, another register opens and the older lady quickly takes to it. My turn finally comes, frustrated and tired, I explain my dilemma. Just as the weary store representative begins to remove the security tag, I look up at her and her inability to show any compassion at all. I then suddenly add that I’ve changed my mind and want to return the shorts instead. The whole return takes literally 2 minutes but the 10 minutes that sapped me of time and energy warranted this decision. She doesn’t care one bit and I don’t either, well perhaps I did a little. It really was a bargain. I take my $10 and head towards the coffee shop instead.
Sunita’s