Shopping

I H.A.T.E. the mall. 

I went to the Florida Mall this morning to shop for Steve's sister's Christmas gift. 

The mall sucks. 

It was a waste.

My first stop was Nordstrom. While sampling candles in the Home section, a sales rep approached me, and enthused, "Don't all of those candles smell divine?!" I answered that only two of them appealed to me. If you can believe it, the sales rep was annoyed, and launched into a defense of each candle. Unbeknownst to me, it was my job to be enthralled by everything. She then reached for a votive, shoved it under my nose and proclaimed it her favorite. It was too late before it occurred to me that good manners dictated that I affect interest.

After I explained the focus of my visit to the esteemed [ugh] Nordstrom, she suggested that something from their extensive catalog of cockamamie crap such as crystal vases, enamel photo frames or cashmere throws might interest me. She looked me over a second time, and threw in that they had, "a few nice things under $20." Hmmn.

Who buys crystal vases/candlesticks/votives? For that matter, I don't have a personal relationship with anyone who buys blankets that require dry cleaning. No one I know displays photos in enamel frames in their homes. When I was in my 20s, thinking that I wanted to be the kind of person who had a collection of crystal, I bought those sorts of things. Unfortunately for Nordstrom, in my early 30s, I developed a self-awareness that extended the realization that my style is not fussy. I promptly rid myself of the delicate things I'd acquired. 

But, I wasn't shopping for myself. Sandra was the top person on my list this morning. I didn't like anything for her either. I did come across a velvety throw, but after looking at the price tag - $275 - I moved on.

Then, it was time for Dillards (Dillards is Hell on Earth). 

I failed in my attempt to breeze past the cosmetics section uninterrupted. Because I am a dipshit, I acknowledge makeup ladies who stop me, even though I clearly do not want to be stopped. 

That woman's [who looked like she could be the Grim Reaper's grandmother] game was tight. She wasted no time with polite chit-chat, preferring to notice the fine lines around my eyes, and my uneven skin. She asked to know the moisturizer I use. After I answered that I am happy with my moisturizer and happy with my skin, she peered closely at my face. Ironically, it was out of insecurity that I added, "At least, I'm not insecure about my skin - whatever it's condition." She then grabbed my hand, and smeared wrinkle filler across my wrist. As she did so, I firmly explained that there was no way that I would ever buy wrinkle filler, and that even if I had wrinkles to fill, I would never use it. 

I could never do that job. To nit-pick each and every last superficial aspect of a person just to sell a lipstick...her paycheck hinges on making women feel bad about themselves. When I was in my 20s - such were the depths of my insecurities - I would have loaded up on whatever she wanted me to buy. 

I left Dillards empty handed. Things were bleak.

I headed over to the Godiva boutique. Steve has a mild chocolate addiction, and I wanted to surprise him a box of seasonal truffles. Lucky for me, the only person working in the store when I walked by was a gothish freaky looking dude who scared me off. His weirdness saved me about $40. Uh-huh. What sounds superficial, is in fact wisdom. I have without prejudice approached many people who present themselves as this gentleman did. And I have learned that they are consistently annoyingly odd. No thanks.

Then, Santa appeared from nowhere vigorously rattling a leather strip of jingle bells like his life depended on it. He walked up to me. I smiled at him and said, "Good morning." I thought I was courteous. For the second time in one morning, I disappointed a mall employee. Evidentially, he expected me to be swept away by the magic of Christmas, and see more than a guy in costume. A thousand apologies, Santa. 

People are WAY too needy.

Seriously? M&M World? Seriously?

By the time I got to Macy's, my goose was cooked. If I wasn't driving, and if I didn't have other things to do, I would have planted myself in this joint for the next several hours.

I am sad for the Chinese children who work in factories that pump out this junk. Children are abused so that we can buy THIS rubbish?

And this?

When I got home, this pretty butterfly was warming itself in the garden. Home is where I belong.