The Mall Used to be My Happy Place

The mall used to be my happy place. Not any more.

Walking down the center of our local mall is like running the gauntlet. A lovely young woman offers me a free sample of lotion. But I don’t want any lotion. When I politely decline, she wants to know if she can ask me a question.  Please, can I just shop in peace? NO, you cannot ask me a question.  If I don’t want your free sample, what in the name of good judgment makes you think I will answer a question?!

Then, when I finally make it safely inside a department store, a woman rushes at me with a perfume sample. I have to yell “No!” before she aims the spray at my face.  I’m about ready to throw a facemask in my purse before heading to the store.

And don’t get me started on the wave of young male sales clerks. This may be sexist but I simply don’t want my clothes brought to me by some androgynous metrosexual who looks like he’s barely out of training pants and has a waist smaller than mine. 

And is it just me or are the sales folks getting more aggressive? Today I tried on a few items at a store that shall remain nameless (three letters, all caps). I politely brought my items to the front and let the gal at the register know that they didn’t work out. She leans over the counter and says, “Why?” Uh….well, because I’m just killing time, because I wanted to see if skipping the pint of ice cream last night means I can fit into a smaller size, because I had no intention of buying anything and because if I show up at home with any bags my husband will kill me. That’s why. Any more stupid questions?!

The worst is when I go shopping with my teenager. Are they purposefully trying to drive anyone over the age of 25 out of those stores that cater to teens and young adults? Because between the deafening music and the overwhelming scent of cologne and perfume, I’m ready to collapse by the time we leave. I think there’s a method to their madness. I’ll shell out $75 for a pair of jeans just to get the heck out of the store. I know I’m getting old because I keep saying things like, “How can anyone hear themselves think with this blasted racket playing? And don’t you have a headache from all this stinking cologne?”

I think this is why online shopping has become attractive to me. You can block those obnoxious pop-up ads on your computer.  I wish I could do the same when I shop at the mall.

Why can’t I be accosted by the folks at Godiva? If they offer me a free chocolate dipped strawberry, they can ask me all the questions they want.