Miserable People: Part 2

My sister just got out of the hospital. In the past two weeks, she had been in 5 hospitals in 3 countries. She had surgery every day for the last 3 days. She is fine now, but things were pretty scary for a while there. I flew out from the west coast to be with her in the hospital. Now that she is okay, we are all QUITE relieved.

Today, the DAY after she was released from Johns Hopkins, we got some coffee at a crowded Panera Bread. We were extra happy, being that she is no longer in a hospital bed and I am no longer scared my sister is going to die. We are chatting and giggling away...when suddenly this nasty old woman gets up from the booth next to us, walks over, and starts yelling at us. She says, "I'm sorry, it's not my business, but you two are talking loudly, like you are on a cell phone. I can hear everything you are saying." She did NOT say it nicely. She scowled and scolded. Then she walked away. Multiple people looked at us like, did she REALLY just do that to you??? As soon as she sat down, I could hear every word she said. I could hear what most people were saying. It is a RESTAURANT. Not a library. People TALK in public restaurants.

This woman was clearly just a miserable person. If she really heard every word we were saying, then she would have heard us saying "You are so lucky the pulmonary embolism didn't kill you," and "I can't believe they had to operate on you for 3 straight days." Or if we truly were being excessively loud, then perhaps she could have politely asked us to be quieter. It's not like we were trying to be rude. We were celebrating life and sisterhood and togetherness. Maybe that's the problem. Maybe our joy was offensive to her Grinch-like demeanor.

My point is this...if you hate people and happiness, then STAY AT HOME. Misery has no place at Panera Bread.

Overly Aggressive Sales Persons

First of all...I'm BAAAAAAAAACK. I got caught up in the stressful countdown to the bar exam, and then once I slew that beast I had no more mental acuity left to be the competent blogger my readers deserve. I apologize for the stall-out. I foresee no other such stalls in the near future.

Okay, so right after the bar I headed off to Minneapolis for a wedding. It being my first time in the land of ten thousand lakes, I of COURSE had to go to the Mall of America, our nation's biggest, and arguably greatest mall. It was just as I had hoped...an amusement park in the middle (and not just a wimpy carousel...REAL intense rides that could force you to give back the fried foods you had gorged on in one of the many, many food courts), a whole Lego-land area, every store you can imagine, movies, clubs, etc. The best part was the people watching. We saw some of the best mullets I have ever seen, including a braided mullet. It was a BEAUTY.

Of course such a mall is filled with a sea of kiosks selling random crap you would never need in a million years. While Mike (my gentleman friend) was in a store, I foolishly decided to wait outside. No sooner did I cross my arms and assume a stationary stance did a man with a thick accent come rushing over. "May I ask you a question?" he says. Before I can answer, he says, "you are bee-yoo-tee-ful, but I can make you bee-yoo-tee-fuller." Hmmm...not actually a question, is it? Before I can even object he plunks me into a chair and starts running his fingers through my hair. I mean, that just wasn't fair. When someone touches my hair I slip into a coma and am powerless to resist. The next thing I know he is clipping hair extensions onto my skull. Many, many hair extensions.

What is amusing is that I have pretty thick hair. And it's not that short, either. I'm not exactly the prime candidate for hair extensions. As Mike put it, "trying to sell you hair extensions is like trying to push a boob job on someone with double D's." But the guy tried pretty damn hard, telling me it was 100% human hair, had a 5-year guarantee, and could be washed, cut, and dyed. He even pulled out a curling iron and adorned my noggin with several ringlets. By the time Mike came out and saw me, I looked like a show girl. All I needed was some sequins and tassels. But I was too amused to be mad.

Of course he waited until the very end to hit me with the price...a cool $530. I laughed out loud. I was like, dude, I owe the government $150K...I don't have $530, and if I did, it would not go to cheesy ass hair extensions that make me look like a high-class hooker at best. Does homeboy take it gracefully? Of course not. He actually got MAD. He was super pissy, as though I had taken advantage of him and wasted his time. Buddy...YOU grabbed me. YOU did not ask if I wanted you to put $530 worth of crap in my hair. YOU did not ask if I wanted you to then curl it. You didn't give me the price up front, I never showed interest...I felt like he had bought me a lobster dinner I didn't ask for and then expected me to put out. Sorry, my European friend...it didn't work in high school and it ain't gonna work now.

We've all been assaulted by someone pushing some product. Whether it be someone who wants you to try their lotion or taste their food samples...they force you to give in to their intense pressure and then act all wounded and insulted if you reject them. I once asked a woman at Bloomingdale's if they carried ONE certain type of perfume and the next thing I knew she AND her colleague were presenting me with 6 different boxed sets of perfumes and asking me which one I wanted. Um...NONE. I just was curious about ONE perfume. Quit with your product pushing, you wolves!

Us shoppers are timid creatures. We scare easy. We enter stores like little rabbits, sniffing the air for danger. Don't come bounding toward us with your fangs bared. I mean, I run away at the first hint of a pushy sales person. And it's their loss, because I might have otherwise bought something. I know you get commission and crap, but back off already! If I want your help, I'll freaking ask for it. A simple "can I help you with anything" will suffice. Shopping is not a contact sport!

And besides, don't these sales people know that no one likes an overeager suitor? Someone needs to give them a copy of The Rules...