During that exciting windstorm last Thursday I decided to do some Christmas shopping. I hate shopping when its crowded; as a rule I do not go anywhere near a grocery store or mall or retail location on the weekends. So when the December crazy starts up, I try to shop during the week and in the late evening. Like around 8 or 9 pm. So shopping during the week late in the evening during a freak windstorm seemed like the perfect time to go downtown.
I decided to just hit one store and get my sister's gift out of the way. Luckily, I found parking practically in front of the store. Woo-hoo!
This store, a large outdoors store, had a good number of shoppers standing in the middle of the aisles on their cell phones completely oblivious to everyone else. I still found it easy to zigzag my way to the proper counter without having to slow down and/or politely yell EXCUSE ME too many times. I was pleased.
I also knew exactly what I was there to buy. I knew the brand, the color, the price, everything. This was a simple matter of getting it and going away. No questions, no browsing, no deciding needed. I did that at home in the comfort of my bed whilst perusing their website.
I did have an advantage: my sister's christmas list. Everyone in my family is extremely picky. We know what we like and how we like it. We are easy to please as long as we don't get crap. And we each have a firm and particular idea of what crap is. My sis is notorious as being the pickiest of the four of us so she started the trend five years ago of sending us her christmas wish list formatted as a catalog. We get the description of the item, the precise color/size/specs, the price, a weblink, and a photo. It is awesome. I can walk into a store, point at the product on her list and ask the greeter, "where can I find this?" In minutes I'm buying the thing and out the door.
So there I was at the large outdoors store, peeking under the arm of the dude in front of me trying to spy my sister's gift. The dude was standing in such a way as to block the entire case so that I had to dance around behind him to get a look, and he was so fixated on grilling the servatron about pedometers and getting him into a conversation about how well did they work, really, and pulling some other servatron into this fascinating conversation that nobody noticed I was obviously wiggling about for a reason. As their discussion droned on, I watched the guy who had been looking at knives get fed up and leave (I was the only one who noticed). I wondered how long I was going to be polite and wait my turn.
The servatron finally distracted the dude with some sort of do-hickey in another case across the aisle, and I quickly stepped in and looked square in the case. There it was. My buried treasure. Right in the front. I just needed someone to get it for me. Anybody? Anybody? Bueller?
Dude came back over to this case with the servatron, and I politely scooted over a bit. I hoped he took notice of my manners, but I was pretty sure he was still too fixated on talking pedometers to even notice I was there. I stared pointedly at the servatron. I willed him to look at me. I hoped this dude would just go away. I just wanted one freaking thing out of the case. Come on!
I finally got the servatron's attention and I got my thing and proceeded to checkout. Servatron called out after me: "do you have a membership?"
me: "No, I don't need one. I don't shop here."
Servatron: "Oh you should get one, what if your thing breaks?"
me: "Its not for me, its a gift."
Servatron: (hesitated, then found a new angle of attack) "You sure you won't shop here again?"
me: (testy) "No, I don't come here EVER."
S: (feigned incredulity) "Really? You NEVER come here?"
me: (totally done) "I NEVER SHOP HERE. DO I LOOK OUTDOORSY TO YOU????"