The Awkwardness

Things can get awkward in the retail business. This mostly comes because I try and be stupidly charming in the corniest of ways. Here are some of my favorites from the last few weeks.

“Hello ma’am, how are you doing?”
“Don’t call me ma’am. I’m not that old yet.”
“No you’re definitely not. You’re a spring chicken.”
“I’m a chicken?”
“I didn’t say that. Who said chicken?”

“How are those jeans working for you, sir?”
“Um, they’re OK… let me ask you a question, are they OK in the butt?”
“Excuse me?”
“The butt, are they OK, in the, you know, well, hey, take a look. Are they OK in the butt?”
“It looks, it looks just great.”
“Really?”
Phone rings in the background.
“Oops, I got to take this.”

“Wow it’s really raining out there, ma’am.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Don’t get too wet.”
“OK… Good advise, kid…”
“Any time.”

“How’s life, ma’am?”
“Terrible, my husband ran off with another woman.”
“Wow. That’s… that’s terrible.”
“I know. That’s why I said terrible.”
“Well, you look like you’re getting through it OK.
“It’s hard to wake up most mornings.”
“Wow, yeah, I heard that… so… out for a little shopping therapy, I see, haha.”
“Yeah, my sister and I are going away for the weekend and we’re going to look fabulous. Her husband left her for someone else six months ago.”
“Runs in the family, hey?”
“What?”
“Um, nothing. So, you dating around now?”
“Yeah, but I read this book about dating and the book says no sex with new guys for a month. It’s like, God, a whole month, really?” Lady shakes her fist at the sky and laughs so hard she cries. A beat passes between us and the tears keep coming even after the smile fades away.
“Well, um, that’s going to be $86.50.”
“You take Discover?” she says and buries her face in a hankie.
“We certainly do.”

“Hey, do you have black jeans?” a man asks me.
“Yes, we do,” I say.
“You are NOT getting black jeans,” says his wife.
“OK,” says the man.
“Give him the boot cut jeans,” the wife says.
“OK,” I say.
“I don’t like boot cut,” the man says.
“They make your butt look good,” the wife says. “And I’m not letting you get black jeans, damn it. Don’t you hate black jeans?” she asks me.
“I, I, well, I’m not fond of them, but…” I stammer.
“See, everyone hates black jeans. Now go try the boot cut jeans on.”
“Yes, honey.”

“Sir, that’s a woman’s sweater.”

And on and on…