Dear Startlingly Perky Sales Associates of the Northgate Nordstrom:
Yes, I'm fine, thank you. No, I'm not looking for anything in particular. No, no -- I'm not "going out" tonight, I'm simply killing time on a lunch break. That's so great? Why yes, yes, I suppose it is. Am I having a good day at work? Oh. Well, it's an average Tuesda---no, wait - Yes, it's an AWESOMEDAYOHMYGOSHTOTALLYTHANKSFORASKING.
Thank you for your concern, but I'm doing just fine finding my proper size and color while I stand in front of this rack of nicely organized cotton t-shirts grouped under the "Small" section of the rack. But I'm certain if I needed help, all 19 of you would rush to search through the shirts exactly 8 inches to the left, in the "Extra small" section.
Thank you for directing me to the rest of the racks of "super cute cropped jeans that you just got in," but then, I suppose, perhaps self-consciously you decided to qualify that with "but you obviously already knew that." Yes, I was holding three pairs of cropped jeans while browsing those small t-shirts.
Did I see your rack of Really, Really soft cropped tees?
No, no I didn't.
Would I like to?
No, no I wouldn't.
Oops, sorry -- I apologize for the blank stare I caused all nineteen of you -- presumably girls who are Not Going Out Tonight And Are Killing Time On Their Lunch Break would ordinarily leap at the opportunity to snatch up your Cropped T-Shirts.
I, however, am not one of those.
I do further apologize, however, for throwing a complete loop in your otherwise flawlessly executed sales pitch, for I fear very few lunch break shoppers are ever so brazen as to say, "I'm just not that into the whole short t-shirt thing, sorry."
I did learn, however, that if I'd like to send all 19 of you scattering, I only have to act patently disinterested in something over which I ought to be gleefully excited.
Like $20 belly-baring cotton shirts.
I'm fairly certain that seven of you were named Chelsea, and fairly certain that one of you named Jennnnnnnifer helped me with my dressing room. Yes, everything's working out just fine for me in here. The lighting is perfectly sufficient to make my saddlebags look pale and jiggly, the three-way mirror just excellent for reminding me that I forgot to tend to the back of my head this morning when heading out the door, and absolutely flawless at identifying that bit of back-of-the-arm fat that I never realized I had.
Yes, thanks, everything is still working out just fine for me in here.
No, I don't need any other sizes, thanks.
Yes, everything is -- surprisingly -- still working out just fine in here.
Truly - the next time I need to mobilize an army of girls in unseasonably slouchy boots to recite particularly inane customer service hooks, you'll be the first I'll call.
Taking my jeans and running now, before anyone can point me toward the Totally Super Cute Denim Shorts.
Yours,
Heatheradair.
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