Pet Peeves.

I have a lot of them. And naturally I think the world would be a much shinier, happier place if people stopped doing them.

I also have one that doesn't impact the world what-so-ever, it just annoys. the. shit. out. of. me. Sales people at clothing stores

Now, I have been a sales person. Granted, it was in a coffee shop not a clothing store, but I have been there behind that register. I was not good at it. Not once in seven years. Why? Because I really didn't care if The Coffee Bean sold a large caramel ice blended instead of a medium. Honestly, I think I would have cared more about what football teams were playing that Sunday. (To clarify, that would be a very miniscule amount of care.)  

"Are you sure you don't want to go grab another pair of shorts? They are only $20 dollars!!" Yeah. I'm pretty sure that when I picked up the one pair of shorts, I would have gotten two if I wanted two. Does this really work on people? You know, I really only need one, but now that you said something... 

I love the moment when I walk into a store and the 17 year old sales girl (we'll call her The Hoverer) comes up to me and asks, "Are you finding everything okay?!" Well, Hoverer, since I usually don't go shopping with a prepared shopping game-plan, can you let me walk around and actually see what you have first? You can even time me! Because I know you'll come up to me in five minutes anyway and ask me again.

This makes sense in say, Home Depot, where there are approximately 736 types of nails and screws. When I go to that place I am immediately lost, I probably don't really know what the hell I'm looking for in the first place, and I definitely need some assistance. In an American Eagle? I'm pretty sure if I didn't find the type of shirt I was looking for, it isn't going to be hiding behind shirt number 735.

Okay, so I finally find a few things (shockingly, on my very own!), and want to try them on. As much as I would just like to go get a dressing room myself, that cannot happen because, they are locked of course. This forces you to ask for help. The Hoverer couldn't be happier. So happy in fact that she will come knock on your door every ten minutes asking if you're doing okay. I don't know about you but, I know what size I wear and have been getting myself dressed for roughly 20 years. Unless there is some kind of zipper catastrophe, most likely I'm doing just fine. 

But, Hoverer, you did say you liked my shoes so I will forgive you. This time.

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