You Can't Always Get What You Oggle

The mall has long been a destination for teenagers to hang out and do nothing. The malls walk a fine line. They want to attract customers to spend an entire day at the mall. They offer food all over the place, they have an indoor playground for the kids. And some have put in chairs and couches so, instead of being tired and leaving, packs of shoppers can rest up and shop some more. This tactic also welcomes cash-poor teens, and honestly, who's going to tell them to leave - a mall cop on a Segway?

I was on my break, and needed a change of scenery. Even though I was inside I sacrificed the knowing that I would look like a douche bag for a sense of separation from the masses, and I wore my sunglasses indoors. I work in an impression-of-upscale retailer, and I usually dress the part.

Two had-to-be-16-year-old boys, sitting in their not-quite-Ed-Hardy T-shirts, chewing on wish-they-were-cigarette straws, slouched one of the mall-provided couches and fixed their eyes on - well let's say my - walk, turning their heads slowly to follow my ass all the way back to whence it had come.

When older people seek out the underage it is pedophilia. What's it called when younger people seek out ethical adults? Unsuccessful marketing?

See no Panties, Hear no Panties, Speak no Panties.

I was working cashier when a young couple, man and woman, were making their purchase.

"Do you think they make them wear the underwear?" The young man said under his breath, grinning like he'd made a funny.

Overhearing him I smiled as I added up their total and replied, "It's not mandatory, but it is encouraged so we might provide personal testimony. That'll be $51.25"

The man handed over his credit card without saying anything, and neither half of the couple said anything in reply as they took their bags and left.

D.I.Y.

A woman came in looking for a replacement to the strapless bra she was wearing. She seemed so sweet, friendly and sure of the brand she had on. When she showed me the bra, to someone to looks at bras and the like all day, I could tell right away it was a regular bra that had the straps cut off.

Deaf with Rage.

It's awkward enough telling a customer that the store cannot accept their check after they've written it (the computer decides what machina checks we may use, and those we may not.)

Spending five minutes communicating that in hand gestures and head shaking to a customer who cannot hear or speak or read lips doesn't make it any better.

Then trying to inform her that her first credit card was declined? That picks things up to eleven.

BONUS: Recognition..Sort of.

It's only been three months, but this blog has gotten some of the recognition it deserves.

Expiration date of funny: September 17, 2009. Freshness not guaranteed if purchased beyond this date.

No ladies, real or fake, were harmed in this sighting.

Before the store opened one day, several associates were helping re-organize the floor setup. One was re-dressing a life-size mannequin.

These are not as disposable as you might think. Certain stores, in an attempt to appeal to different sensibilities, spend money on specific mannequins that are different ethnicities, have unique faces, and wigs of all shades. They are also very hard and can be quite heavy and when an associate was changing the sportswear on one particular relatable-but-still-unrealistically-proportioned statuette, the ceramic 6-ft-tall woman came crashing down on her.

The other associates rushed over to make sure their co-worker was alright.

The manager, counting money from the register, yelled "Did it break? Those models are ten thousand dollars each."

Oh, I wish I were an oscar mayer panty.

There once was a series of thongs for sale. Differing in color, size and coverage of the panty, they were all uniform in the fact that the graphic gracing the crotch was a hot dog.

In a bun.

BONUS Political Issue.

Heard and not seen while an associate was folding t-shirts.

"Yeah I watched that Obama thing last night, and they showed McCain but they didn't show Palin."

"Uh, dumbass, she resigned from congress. Read the news."

Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.

A man walked into the store with a burned-down cigar hanging out of his mouth. Stationed in the front of the store, greeting customers, I welcomed the man but kindly pointed out that there was no smoking in the mall.
"It's not lit! See?"
The customer spoke to me as if it were an embarrassing error on my part. He also sounded as if he'd been annoyed by this comment in every store he'd been too, keeping up his cultivated image of toughness through tobacco even at the expense of A) constant annoyance and B) that thing was getting spiti-soaked down to the core, from the looks of it.

Some men refuse to enter a lingerie store. Others will do so, but only under the condition that their machosity is undeniably represented, requiring a physical filter of every word they utter inside the hallowed halls of panties. As if taking in the perfumed air is akin to breathing in a graveyard, with the promise of a vague but dire consequence that must be avoided at all costs.

Though without it being lit it just looks like a soggy poop in some big smelly guy's mouth.

Interesting choices in copyrighted body art 2

Tattoos are beginning to reflect a sense of unity rather than rebellion. Various nations throughout time have used tattooing as an initiation rite, with "tribal" designs representing families, status, achievements, etc. In this manor of thinking, it is not so radical that some studies as recent as 2006 found that about one third of adults have some sort of tattoo. Many chose to mark themselves with a certain piece of art at a certain time of their life to keep a permanent reminder of that time. A first name, written in simple cursive with a birth and loss date are straightforward memorials. Some are more abstract in meaning, beautiful to the beholder but meaningful to the living canvas in a semi-private way. Yes some religions frown on marking the body, but it could be argued that it is a way of connecting with the divine by being so thankful, so moved or so changed by a G-d-given experience that it becomes a way to remind us of what our often fickle memories might lose otherwise.

And then there was this guy I used to work with who had a full color, neck-up portrait of Homer Simpson on his inner thigh.

All we are saying, is give fashion a chance.

Perhaps because of the 40th anniversary of Woodstock, the peace sign has been back in middle-lower retain fashion since spring 09. One particular shirt was a hit in its simplicity of the peace design in lace on a bright magenta cotton tee, and because of its popular brand ran low on stock fairly quickly, and soon there was only one left.
I saw two girls arguing over the last peace sign t-shirt. They turned out to be sisters, as a frazzled looking mother took the shirt and paid for all their purchases at once. As they left the store they were still arguing over whose it was.