Do you hate salespeople as much as I do? They’re never around when you need to ask a question, and when you just want to browse around for something, they’re all up in your face asking if you need help or if you’ve smelled the latest fragrance or if you want a coupon for $10 off some ungodly amount of money that you can’t possibly afford to spend.
Today I was in a store that I like getting stuff from but LOATHE to shop in because of the sales girls. Every single time I go in, there are about 3 or 4 college-age girls, dressed to the nines, who apparently are going to get FIRED if they don’t talk me into buying the latest store brand perfume. It’s like playing Time Crisis, trying to head them all off before they can talk me into buying something above and beyond my budget.
In addition, this is a store that I go browse when I’m feeling gloomy because I can usually find something decent and inexpensive to cheer myself up. So nine times out of ten, I’m walking into this place looking like hell. Today was no exception. My hair was half-pulled up and wind-blown, I was wearing an outfit that pushes the boundaries between “business casual” and “stayed at home on the couch” and I just wanted to find something to shake off some work-related doldrums.
I was hunched down sitting on my heels and looking at t-shirts (what else) when one of the sales girls startled the crap out of me. I looked up and she was standing over me wearing boatloads of eye makeup and just oozing fashion, holding three perfume samples.
The little tramp had stalked me and was prepared.
Salesgirl: “Hi, have you tried our most popular fragrance?”
Me: “Oh…yes, I own that one.” (Truth)
Salesgirl: “Oh, well in that case, have you tried our second most popular fragrance?” and shoved a scented scrap of paper in my face.
Me: “Umm…I don’t like that one as much as the other one. Thanks.”
Salesgirl: “Well, if you like the first one, you’ll probably like this one. It’s not as sweet and is made with oil rather than alcohol blah blah blah…” and shoved the third scrap of scented paper practically UP MY NOSE, looking somehow simultaneously bored and doggedly determined to find something I didn’t already own that I would JUST FREAKING BUY ALREADY, GOSH.
I smelled the third one (since it was already up one nostril, for pete’s sake) and made the mistake of saying
“…that actually smells nice.”
Salesgirl: “Awesome. Can I hold one for you at the counter?”
Me: “Umm, okay?”
Salesgirl: “Great.” And she walked away.
The worst part is that I had to go up to the counter to pay for my purchases and happened to glance into a vanity mirror. Let me tell you, any vanity I had left drained right out of me. I had a silvery-grey hair sparkling right on top of my disheveled hair and I looked like I’d possibly slept in my clothes and jumped right into the car from bed.
I quickly took down what little of my hair was “up” and tied it back a little neater, mentally telling myself that I didn’t need to worry about being judged by this snotty 21-year-old girl but not quite believing it.
I mean, come on. She’d pretty much bullied me into buying perfume and she was dressed nicer than I was. To assert any level of female social dominance, I would have had to kill her right there and I just didn’t have the energy.
But at least I smell pretty now.