While waiting to get into the movie theatre last week in Frederick, we wondered into the Soma Boutique.
Intimate apparel - underwear and bras.
Not since high school when Butch, our (female) gym teacher, insisted on us girls taking showers and then proceeded to watch us as we got out of the showers to make sure we were wet, have I felt more violated. Modest me!
Let me set the scene.
Gary: We have 45 minutes till the movie starts.
Me: (Peering in the Soma window): Ohh... Nice underwear. Let's go in here for a minute.
**Notice, I call them underwear. Not panties or intimate apparel. Underwear. Does this show that I am old or that I can throw a nickel and have it land in WV easy (thus I can pronounce and say things any old way I want)?**
I am greeted by an enthusiastic, bubbly, sales girl... lets call her Debbie... who encourages me to collect a mound of bras then follows me to the fitting room (after she measures me right smack dab in front of the huge store-front window to see what size bra I'd take).
Outside of the fitting room she is talking to me, calling me by name, and then asking me if she can take a look.
*Insert horrified face here*
Me: Oh sure..
I very gingerly open the door just a crack. Debbie barges in and begins to ogle my half naked top part, giving suggestions and lying about how great it looks on me.
This process is repeated four times and then I bolt from the fitting room, pay over a hundred bucks for some of the best bras I will ever own, and grab Gary from the bench where he sits smiling (I wonder why!).
I'm wondering how long these sales professionals go to school to learn how to turn a deal that easily.
*Insert bewildered & confused face here*
Oh, one last thing. If you own a DOG or a CAT I encourage you to give them permission to stop Here at Gracie's Advice Column Blog and ask her advice on anything at all. Gracie has the winter blahs and she needs to feel needed... ;-)