On one of those email surveys my friend once answered a question about me. The question - favorite things to do. Her answer - "NOT shop." I cannot articulate my feelings about shopping and malls very well because maybe I don't understand them myself. And for clarification, I don't dislike shopping. Malls are my conundrum. I grew up 42 miles from the nearest mall, 120 miles from a "real" mall. The mall was a special place for back-to-school and summer shopping.
Halfway through high school I moved to a town with a mall. My friends and I would frequently hit the joint on week nights and weekends, when we needed things and when we didn't. It was a place to go - just like the restaurants or movie theaters. My junior year I wanted to work at the mall, badly. I filled out numerous applications and got called back from one place - Gadzooks. They called because my application said I was from North Dakota. The manager thought, "Ha, maybe she'll talk funny. Let's interview her."
Despite my lack of piercings, funky clothes and platform shoes, they hired me. I loved my job - helping customers, meeting people, laughing with my co-workers while trying on the fun and risque clothes I'd never buy. The folks I worked with educated me. They gave me my first Newport Menthol. They talked about the "forbidden" things that I could only pretend to know about. They invited me to "college" parties. Going to work at the mall was fun, but shopping at the mall became less and less attractive. When I clocked out, I didn't want to stick around.
During college I rarely went to the mall. Occasionally, I would get a sudden urge to go browse at the mall. But I'd get there and the excitement was quickly killed. Too many people. (But I like people, a lot.) Too many lines. (But I'm not impatient, I could sit in traffic for hours and not be irked.) Not enough niceties. I'd hit one or two stores and run. I cannot pinpoint the feeling. Stress is probably the closest match. Usually I only feel this way when it's just me and the rest of the mall. I can go with friends and family and be fine, fine, fine.
But today I had to do it on my own - face the mall and finish Christmas shopping. I mentally fed myself positive thoughts before I went. You're going to enjoy yourself. You're going to relax. Somehow, this power of positive thinking thing worked. I went in at 1 p.m. I left at 2:14 p.m. I got what I needed, even browsed a little and left feeling ... good? And yes, I went to more than two stores. In fact, I stepped foot in seven stores.
[I ditched the shirt in the photo. Baggy in the belly, tight in the bicep. You know me and my muscles ... :-)]
Halfway through high school I moved to a town with a mall. My friends and I would frequently hit the joint on week nights and weekends, when we needed things and when we didn't. It was a place to go - just like the restaurants or movie theaters. My junior year I wanted to work at the mall, badly. I filled out numerous applications and got called back from one place - Gadzooks. They called because my application said I was from North Dakota. The manager thought, "Ha, maybe she'll talk funny. Let's interview her."
Despite my lack of piercings, funky clothes and platform shoes, they hired me. I loved my job - helping customers, meeting people, laughing with my co-workers while trying on the fun and risque clothes I'd never buy. The folks I worked with educated me. They gave me my first Newport Menthol. They talked about the "forbidden" things that I could only pretend to know about. They invited me to "college" parties. Going to work at the mall was fun, but shopping at the mall became less and less attractive. When I clocked out, I didn't want to stick around.
During college I rarely went to the mall. Occasionally, I would get a sudden urge to go browse at the mall. But I'd get there and the excitement was quickly killed. Too many people. (But I like people, a lot.) Too many lines. (But I'm not impatient, I could sit in traffic for hours and not be irked.) Not enough niceties. I'd hit one or two stores and run. I cannot pinpoint the feeling. Stress is probably the closest match. Usually I only feel this way when it's just me and the rest of the mall. I can go with friends and family and be fine, fine, fine.
But today I had to do it on my own - face the mall and finish Christmas shopping. I mentally fed myself positive thoughts before I went. You're going to enjoy yourself. You're going to relax. Somehow, this power of positive thinking thing worked. I went in at 1 p.m. I left at 2:14 p.m. I got what I needed, even browsed a little and left feeling ... good? And yes, I went to more than two stores. In fact, I stepped foot in seven stores.
[I ditched the shirt in the photo. Baggy in the belly, tight in the bicep. You know me and my muscles ... :-)]
4 comments:
It's a good thing you do talk funny.
I'd go with vertical stipes. You're fairly tall. It should work.
And...the mall is your friend. It's just a place with some merchandise where people hope you will come and buy stuff. That means you're in control.
73 minutes. That's my shopping mall limit (which incidentally is one minute short of your recent excursion.) After 73 minutes, I'm ready to sprint to the parking lot shouting a primal scream that would scare buzzards off a sh*twagon.
I can't set foot in a mall or any other retail prison (did I say that?) if I'm not looking for something in particular. The idea of going in to browse and open myself to the possibility of being ambushed by over-eager employees is as terrifying as finishing a cup of Starbucks brew.
You are a brave soul and have won an important battle.
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