A couple of days ago I was shopping alone-an anomaly that occurs about as often as a lunar eclipse in my world-when I decided that I should check out the juniors department at Nordstroms. I was having no luck finding just the right thing in the womens, so I casually sauntered into the jungle called juniors, and with as much confidence as I could muster, selected a few items to try on. Only after I had played my own version of 'Name That Tune' trying in vain to determine if I knew the song that was blasting in this albatross [I didn't] did I turn to look at the outfit I had so carefully selected. "HOLY CRAP! I look like Cyndi Lauper and Betsy Johnson rolled into one."
On the way out I decided to try on some jeans in the middle section of the store. When a friendly Nordbot came to my aid to start a fitting room I questioned her about the lower case letters (t.b.d.) above the section we were in. In an almost inaudible whisper she said, "to be determined." Though spoken softly, these words hit me with a force akin to an open handed thud to the forehead. "Oh", I manged to say, "like not juniors but not womens?" "Exactly!" she said. What I thought was this............Why don't they just call it what it is......PURGATORY!
I'm not so naive to think that I can still shop in juniors, yet sometimes I will still face a bit of humiliation and save fifteen bucks on a tank that looks the same as the higher priced version who lives in the more civilized neighborhood of the womens dept.
Another similar experience happened just a couple of weeks ago at a store called Hollister. I believe it to be the bastard child of Abercrombie & Fitch. Anyhow, I was navigating my way through the dank, dark store with my two kids in tow when a young sales-dude (he was by no means yet a man) asked me if I was from Georgetown.
"No-why-do I look familiar?"
"Oh, woww....it's just that you look just like my friend's mom."
Ok. I get it.
It's not 'to be determined'.......it's more like.....It has been determined.
Ok, Ok, I get it.