Sales Lady Steps Over the Line of Decency. How Would You React?

Most of you know that I live in a very small town. Our options for shopping, restaurants, and entertainment are seriously lacking. They are a far cry from what I experienced in Chicago – and even in Ohio. Down here you are more likely to find Mom & Pop Shops, family-owned restaurants, and movie theaters with 3 – 5 screens. That’s really about it.

For the most part, I love it. Yes, I miss the mall. A lot. Woodfield at Christmas was my favorite. But, I like the feeling of “family” everywhere I go down here. Everybody knows everybody, and for the most part, everyone is kind.

terrible customer serviceThere is, however, one store down here that I will no longer shop in. I swore last year that I would never go back. Maybe the sales lady was just having a bad day when she refused to give me service or mumbled to the other sales clerk that “no one needs that many kids.” At the time, I was pregnant with Gage and I had my other 5 along with me. They stayed right beside me, never touched an item in her store, and yet she refused to answer my questions or help me out. She was so incredibly rude, though, that I left that day without purchasing a thing and swore I’d never go back.

I should have trusted my gut and stayed away yesterday.

Yesterday afternoon, I had to run to town. I needed to pick something up from a friend, and I needed to get Ashley to the doctor to get the second dose of a vaccine. I had left the kids with my mother in law and her husband so that Ash and I could quickly get done everything we needed to do.

The doctor’s office down here is closed from 12:20 to 1:40. Since I had to pick up the items from my friend at 1pm, that gave us some time to piddle around town before going to the doctor’s. We decided to swing by the unnamed store, {unnamed because they do not deserve ANY publicity – good or bad}, and just poke around. Ashley’s Christmas money and Santa gift had been burning a hole in her pocket.You know, because it’s been a whole 2 days. 🙂

We walked in the store and got a cold, “Hello” from the sales clerk. Ash and I went our separate ways because no 14 year old wants her Mommy picking out her clothes anymore, and I wanted to look at the purses and jewelry.

As I was looking at the purses, I noticed the cutest zebra pajama pants. Now, anyone that knows me knows that I ♥ zebra. Love it. They had my size, so I grabbed a pair. I also found a beautiful necklace, so I grabbed it for myself too. Ashley found a few items she wanted, so I had her check out first. The lady didn’t really talk to her much, but she rang her up and that was the end of it.

Then it was my turn. The lady picks up the zebra pants and asks, “Are these for you?” With a big, goofy smile on my face, I replied, “They sure are! I think they’re adorable. They’ll be great for bumming around the house.” Expecting her to just agree with me, I was flabbergasted when she replied, “Well, they run really, really small. I mean a large fits me.” I turned to look at Ashley, and she had this look on her face that said she was probably thinking, “Please don’t punch her in the face, Mom.

Instead I replied, “I’m sure they’ll be fine” and not another word. Oh, how I wanted to utter more words. But I didn’t. I refrained. I bought the pants anyway. Probably more to prove a point than anything else.

We got outside and the first thing Ashley said to me was, “I can’t believe you didn’t hit her. She totally called you fat!”

I was embarrassed, angry, and hurt. What gave that sales clerk the right to say that to me? So the pants run small. Say that. But don’t say it in a way that implies I am fatter than you are. That is not okay.

I got home that afternoon, and the first thing I did was put on the pants. Hey, guess what? They fit!

Maybe I should wear them back into the store and tell the lady that apparently her butt is bigger than it looks because the Large fits me just fine.

Ok, so I’m not going to do that. But only because I will never set foot in that store again. Ever. I don’t care how cute their stuff is.

Local folks, if you’d like to know where this took place, ask me at church, MOPS, or in an email. I’d be happy to tell you which shop in Blairsville you shouldn’t bother going into… but I’m guessing that if you’ve ever shopped in her store, you already know where I’m talking about.