The Cotton Conniption [9.21.08]

Today has proved that some of the most fascinating observations are sometimes the most blatant ones. Truth be told, the joke is sidesplitting when the chuckle is at someone else's expense. My girls and I went shopping at Old Navy, strictly because of the secret "BFF Sale" of which we found out through advantageous means. Our notion of privilege quickly departed when we found out that the not-so-secret sale was posted on every bus stop, billboard, and commercial known to woman. Our arrival consisted of taking glamor shots at the entrance, followed by our chipper greeting toward the mannequins. In the next ten minutes, a rainbow tornado of cotton and linen seemed to follow us, and carts were shared between the two pairs of "BFFs", respectively. What followed was the presumably stereotypical dressing room ritual in which everyone takes in the same number of items and tries them on at the same time; blurbs of "it's just alright" were followed by the always sought after "ooh...that looks FABulous" and the always avoided "it doesn't do anything for you". Around the third or fourth round, I exited my dressing room with a new pair of jeans and the shirt that I came in. My friend's three-second glance said it all, and she hastily responded with "ooh...that shirt is CA-YUTE...but you could do without the pants". I wasted no time countering her reaction with "well...then I'm glad I already BOUGHT it" while my other friend barked "she was wearing that on our way over, ya dummy!" Of course, epic laughter ensued because we had pilgrimaged to the peak of the dressing-room ritual. Some of our cotton/nylon blends became wastes of time and inevitably returned to the rack, while the buried treasures remained with us as we strutted toward the cash register. Still thinking that the sale was on the down-low, we separate into our appropriate pairs, hover over the counters, and whisper the secret code "BFF" with cupped hands. Apathetically, the clerk murmured "Wow girls...I wasn't sure if you knew about the sale..." making our sojourn about as moody as it could have been. Like any good clothing crusaders, we ignored Miss I-need-a-raise and blissfully walked out with our purchases, and several questions. What caused her to have such an irate reaction to our fortunate finds? What kind of woman stews when surrounding by fashion - and possibly an employee discount? When did customer service become the eleventh plague?