It was all over a lousy pair of shoes. Niece and I were enjoying many fun-filled laps around the mall today in honor of her thirteenth birthday, when I spotted the most darling little shoes at a major department store, which I steadfastly refuse to name.
Are these or are these not cute or what, I said! I know! Niece and I both cooed and blabbered about them for a couple of minutes. I considered just buying them in case I **ever** have kids. Niece considered having me buy them for her when she someday has kids. We thought the joy would never end. Then I had a wonderful idea. Why not just take a picture of them? That way, you know, after my brother wins the lottery and I can afford to reproduce any shoes in the universe, I'll have all the info I need right here?! What could be more cost-effective and simple, I ask?
I whipped out the camera phone. Handed it to Niece so she could get it on the right screen for me, and once it was back, I aimed. Then I heard what has GOT to be the most hideous voice ever:
"Exc-aaaaaaa-ewwwwwwse me." Niece and I looked up with a start. I hadn't taken my golden, historic image yet. We blinked at a "sales" person, standing opposite us from the table of pink baby shoes. "Can I help you find something?" Niece giggled nervously. She acted guilty, of what I don't know.
I simply replied, "Nope" as I concentrated again on focusing the stupid phone. Click. Hm. Wasn't sure if that one was good. Pointed again. The shriek of polyester and Naturalizers in motion again, stretching to capacity, inflamed my already thinned nerves for the last time. Niece's increasing level of discomfort was more than noticeable. I was sorry for being any part of embarrassment to her . I looked at salesBitch again. She stopped waddling at my glare but wasn't smart enough to keep her mouth shut.
"May I ask what you are doing?"
"No. Get out of here unless I have a question," I barked, shooing her away with my free hand. Which wasn't technically free, since I had a facial exfoliating brush from Sephora in one of my shopping bags and as I shooed, the brush flew out of the bag and on to the table in front of me. SalesBitch thought it was just a ruse. The whole Sephora brush thing brought out the Inspector Gadget in her, and hell be damned if she wasn't going to get to the bottom of this caper. I picked my brush up, still wrapped in the well-paid for red tissue.
"See what you've made me do? What is WRONG with you, lady? Tell me. Is there a CRIME in taking a picture of a pair of SHOES on a TABLE in this STORE?" I shoved the brush back in the bag, grabbed my phone back from Niece, who had somehow gotten hold of it, and froze. At that point, I should have walked away. But nooooooo. SOMEbody was treating MH like she was a shoe thief or who the hell knows?
"I'll be right back," said the old hag. "Yeah, get one of your damn bosses out here, I want to have a talk with them."
Any bets on who showed up first? Of course, the "security" guy. Not really much of a threat to me, since I knew the guy. He was just a city police officer working some overtime, so take THAT, old hag. "Whaaaaaaazup?" says my old buddy. "Ooooooh man! This WOMAN is acting like I'm doing something wrong by taking a picture of some shoes! Niece! Find that picture I took! Show Winston what I'm talking about here."
Old Hag just sat there trying to say that I was "rude" when all she did was ask if she could help me find something. I turned to Old Hag and reminded her that she needed to find her boss.
Boss concluded that the whole thing a misunderstanding. Yeah. I know. BTW, here are those darling shoes....
Thursday, August 2, 2007