The Adventure of Shopping Alone

The mostly-true story about shopping as told through the eyes of a shy person.

I went to the mall today, and as I entered each store, I was greeted by an associate. Well, almost every store. Nobody greeted me at the pet store, probably because they get a lot of horrible people in there. You know, people who think they know all about animals but don’t. “This right here is the rare cat-rat mix. It occurs when, instead of eating rats, the kitty loves the rats. A lot.” I’m pretty sure interspecies breeding is right up there with pedophilia, but I’m also pretty sure cat’s wouldn’t care less. “The cat-rat possesses all of the Peter Pan-like mischief of a cat with the bubbly gait of a rat—look , it twerks when it runs! (True story)” That’s actually a ferret, which is what I’ll be reincarnated as in my next life, but that’s a story for another time. Back to the associate greeters. I love them, I really do; I love the idea that I am wanted in a store, when in reality everybody in the world hates working with people, at least from what I’ve heard. “Hi! What’s up? Welcome to Visible Midriff! Everything in the store is 60% off—literally!” They say. (Okay, I might have paraphrased slightly.) But then I remember what everybody in the world says about jobs working with people, and I know that smiling associate with unnaturally white teeth is thinking “Get out unless you’re a cute boy. Which you’re not.” Honestly, though, I love smiles and friendliness, so I immediately dismiss everything I’ve ever heard from the workers of the service industry and accept my new friend. NOW we get to the weird part. The associate asks “What can I help you find?”



“What can I help you find?”?



Why, that’s not a yes or no question!



Neither is it a simple rhetorical inquiry, like “How are you?” (“Good” I answer. “How are you?” I add if I’m feeling outgoing.)



No, this is a real question, the kind asked by people who aren’t socially awkward and answered by people who are equally non-socially awkward.



That’s the kind of question you ask to prom queens, or beauticians, or girls with boyfriends. Or girls with friends.



“What can I help you find?”



“Uhh… nothing. I’m just looking around right now,” I panickingly reply, feeling my features twist into strange and unfamiliar facial expressions.



“Alright,” the associate says in a perky, high-pitched voice. “Let me know if you need anything.”



“Okay” I answer, knowing I will never again in my life talk to that woman unless she first approaches me. It is at this point that I realize just how uncomfortable this simple exchange has made me feel, and I ponder the implications. If I cannot loosen up when talking to an associate, how can I ever loosen up enough to make friends? If I cannot loosen up enough to make friends, who will lend me money when I accidentally spend it all on Star Trek merchandise? If I have no one to lend me money when I accidentally spend it all on Star Trek merchandise, how will I keep my home (assuming I one day move out of my parents’ house)? If I cannot keep my home, what will I do to panhandle? If I cannot panhandle, how can I survive except by stealing? If I cannot survive except by stealing, how will I avoid jail? If I cannot avoid jail, what will I have when I get out of jail? If I have nothing when I get out of jail, I’ll have to buy new stuff… If I have to buy new stuff, how will I loosen up when talking to an associate?



That might have been an exaggeration. I’m sure few to none of those things will ever actually happen in my life.



Relieved by my solitude, I perused the store. I scoured the sale racks and discovered that all of the clothing I could actually afford was either several sizes too small (it’s almost as if most women aren’t anorexic… who knew…) or it didn’t cover my no-no square. The few articles of clothing I found which were both affordable and wearable were made of this strangely patterned fabric. It looked a little like vomit, but with more sparkles.



At length, I discovered a lovely skirt with elephants on it. Elephants! Upon looking at the skirt and feeling its bunny-butt-soft fabric, by core swelled with the same emotion I feel when someone laughs at a joke I make and not just because he/she feels sorry for me. This may lead one to believe that the skirt somehow fills some sort of a void in my heart. Maybe I’ll deal with that later.



The next time an associate came my way and asked how I was doing, I excitingly replied “Great! Can I try this on?” Skirts with elephants on them tend to overcome social awkwardness.



The lovely young woman led me to the dressing rooms in the back, and on the door with a bright, psychedelic marker she wrote my name, “Emily,” and her name, “Sam.”



Emily and Sam.



Sam and Emily.



Seeing two names together written on a door like that… ‘twas almost like we were… we were… FRIENDS!!!



Sam and Emily could go to the movies together. Sam and Emily could travel the world together. Sam and Emily could get matching tattoos together. I might be exaggerating again.



Even so, it was legitimately exhilarating to see my name written with another person’s name in that matter. In bright psychedelic marker to boot.

I went into the dressing room and tried on the skirt, paranoid that the middle aged man with a goatee standing outside could somehow see me undress. During the changing process my bare feet briefly touched the dressing room floor, but at least it wasn’t a public shower. Or a private shower.

The skirt fit like a hug from an octopus! You know, it caressed everything it should caress, and it flared where it should have flared. The skirt was made longer in the back so that it didn’t lose any length over the hump of my butt (only women and fabulous men will understand this struggle).



And so, I bought the skirt. After navigating the terror of associates who ask more than yes-or-no questions, after perusing vomit-colored pieces of silk the clothing industry tries to pass off as clothing, and after possibly contracting Chlamydia on my feet, if that’s possible (I’ve heard stories about those dressing rooms, you know), I bought a skirt. A beautiful, flirty, feminine skirt with elephants on it.