Yesterday, I dragged my ass to the mall to change my money into Euros and get a pair of jeans. Have you ever been over customer serviced? I have, and it happened less than twenty-four hours ago. Three girls greeted Leppy and I as we went into the store we were too old to shop in.
I had a couple pair of jeans selected when a young woman, wearing scarves and tight leggings, came over. Here is what ensued:
"Want me to start a fitting room for you?"
"Uhh...ok," I said.
"I see you got the boyfriend jeans here. Do you like the boyfriend fit? We have these other pants that are slouchy skinny, they are super cute and they combined the boyfriend with the skinny."
A moment of silence. "I have no idea what that means."
"Oh, you see these are a baggier fit. How about I grab them for you and you can try them on?"
Once in the changing room the woman brought me six pairs of jeans. I had two selected and I ended up trying on eight million pairs. I bought the one pair I'd selected. I don't like shopping. I hate trying on clothes. And it was the first time I'd been over customer serviced.
What I learned?
I am too old to shop in the young people stores. I have no idea what slouchy-skinny means. Boyfriend jeans are jeans that look like they could be your boyfriends. And I have turned into a crotchty bitch who just wants to be left alone while shoving her ass into a pair of jeans.