Last night I went to Ross for their “shoe week” sale. I figured I could use a couple pair of comfortable shoes for work. My first thought when I arrived at the shoe section was “people are #($I* animals!” There were more shoes on the floor than there were on the shelves. Apparently, people try on discount name-brand shoes and then just leave them on the floor? The atmosphere in the shoe section had dissolved into chaos and there was no chance of harmony. I plowed through anyway, determined to get my piece of the bargain pie. It was like shopping in a bazaar in an overcrowded city where people just push past each other, no words exchanged, no excusing themselves. I felt sad for the clerk who’d been paged to report to women’s shoes for “recovery,” which I guessed meant “pick up all the shoes from the pigs who didn’t or wouldn’t pick up after themselves.”
Anyway, I know. I went to Ross for god’s sake! What did I expect? It ain’t no fancy city DE-partment store. But 2 pairs of name-brand shoes don’t come cheap. That’ll be 50 bucks, lady, a little piece of your soul. Thank you, come again.