snarkwifedotcom

Seriously, I have lost all sense of time and place over the last few days, what with the holiday and my husband and mom being around more than they usually are.

I knew it wasn’t a weekend though, because Northpark was a veritable ghost town when we went there today.

I have to ask…if any of you out there have ever worked retail, why would you act all suck-uppy and helpful out on the floor, but once you’ve gotten me tucked into a dressing room and I’m standing there in various stages of undress, never bother to come back to check on me? I walked out of three stores today with nothing, specifically because the salesgirls sucked. Don’t say, “My name is Lola, should you need anything,” then disappear for ten minutes…because nothing bugs me more than having to put all my clothes back on just to walk four feet to yell, “HEY LOLA - DO YOU HAVE THESE TWEED PANTS IN A TWELVE PETITE?”

I wasn’t mean to anyone, and I wasn’t snitty…until I had this same experience at Ann Taylor, Ann Taylor Loft and J.Jill. Snarkwife’s still in bed, recovering from too much wine and too much stuffing on Thanksgiving, so I know she wasn’t responsible for giving anyone the evil eye before it was due. I was just looking for a top and some pants to wear to my company holiday party this weekend. Sniff.

In good shopping news though, CU had his very own shopping stalker at Brooks Brothers - his salesperson followed him around like a giddy puppy, and was more than happy to help him check out after he’d selected a rugby shirt. We’re planning on going back in a couple of weeks to pick this up for my sister-in-law, because nothing says “I love you” at Christmastime like unsolicited parenting advice.

As my preliminary holiday gift to you, I will share with you what our server at P.F. Chang’s said to us as we were finishing up lunch:

“You know what song has been going through my head all day? The theme song from Sanford & Son.”

And by the way, no one had the pants in a twelve petite…not even P.F. Chang’s.