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Friday, June 28, 2013

Why are some shop assistants so intimidating?

I stood uneasily at the accessory counter at Myers in the Pacific Fair shopping centre grasping the green Wayne Cooper handbag. 

Wayne Cooper was definitely an adventurously chic purchase considering my usually understated Target-inspired mode of attire.

The flawlessly made up woman behind the counter quickly scanned my unfashionable outfit with a swift and disapproving up and down movement of her head, incorporating her well-groomed eyebrows into the action.

“She can’t afford this!” I could hear her thinking. “Look at the frayed, faded old handbag she’s trying to conceal behind her back. I bet she’s spending her kid’s food money for the week on this handbag. To think this stunning handbag is going to be worn by this dishevelled welfare recipient. Wayne Cooper would roll over in his grave if he was dead.”

“MAH-YER ONE?” she startled me, querying in a nasally posh voice.

“I’m sorry…” I stuttered hesitantly, “I don’t know what that is.”

I held up my stained Visa card smiling timidly.

It took three attempts to successfully push my debit card into the little machine thing I was so intimidated.

All the while Mrs Slocum watched me suspiciously. I typed in the first three numbers of my pin number but for some reason became confused.

“Can I cancel this and start again please?” I meekly asked the woman.

The eyebrows slid up and down again. She was most probably wondering which mental facility I’d escaped from.

Sighing loudly, she pressed a few buttons on the machine and examined me with even more wariness.

This time I managed to type in all four numbers but the machine merely began to beep in a somewhat alarming fashion.

“Looks like you forgot your number again!” she stared at me with a mixture of mild contempt and scepticism.

It’s not my fault you snobby old bat, I thought, you’re responsible for my temporary amnesia because you’re making me nervous with your false eyelashes and your ‘Lady of the Manor’ persona.

Eventually I managed to remember the correct pin number and scarper out of the store clutching the parcel under my arm like a criminal. 

This is my new Wayne Cooper handbag for what it’s bloody worth.