I subscribe to a newsletter that tells me what’s going on in L.A. Yesterday, it included a plea from a shop in Santa Monica that is struggling to stay in business. They are “reaching out” and asking for support.
BUT! Since I’m a cunt, I elected to write a comment on this post, relating my terrible experience in the shop. This happened a couple of years ago, but the bitter aftertaste is still there.
I wandered into the shop and saw that they carried shit by Yohji Yamamoto. A salesperson approached me when she saw me looking at a brown leather jacket. She proceeded to do everything in her power to make me buy the jacket. She started by expounding on how great it was, and ended up by saying it was now 30% off, but just for today only. She looked like she would gladly strangle me if it would close the sale.
I turned my attention to a pair of Y3 shoes nearby. I asked her if she had the silver ones. She looked irritated. I told her I’d seen them online but they were out of my size on the website. She sneered slightly and delivered the immortal line:
“You obviously know nothing about Yohji, or you’d know that he only makes one pair of shoes in each size.”
Then, she turned and walked away, a veritable midget in her shortness and wearing a ridiculous beret to make matter worse. I stood frozen in disbelief, looking around for a hidden camera. Or a manager. But after a moment, I put the shoe down and left, thinking What a Fucking Cunt !
I hatched a plan with a friend to rent an Asian guy to accompany me to the store, posing as Yohji Yamamoto. It would be like that scene in Annie Hall, where Woody Allen suddenly produces Marshall McLuhan to silence some idiot. Like McLuhan, Yohji would approach that cunt and say, “You know nothing of my work!”
Ah, how we laughed.
There are two morals here:
1. You must strive to make art out of life’s slings and arrows.
2. Don’t be a cunt if you work in retail.
May I add a third moral to your tale? Be very careful with oliental gentlemen called Yamamoto. They are capable of springing very sudden and nasty surprises.
UNBELIEVABLE! I was perfectly calm before I read this post and now I am foaming at the mouth! Down with the Cunts! Down with the Cunts!
You showed remarkable self-control in not striking down the midget on the spot!
I wish you had carried your cunning plan to fruition. Also, no good ever came of beret-wearing.
That same fucking cunt tried to force me to a buy a $1200 Undercoverism jacket. When I told her that I had just lost my eyeglasses, which cost me $400, she grabbed my arm and her eyes rolled back into her head. Then she said, “I see your glasses. They’re under a car seat. I’m psychic like that.” THIS IS ALL TRUE. The rancid twat was actually pretending to be psychic to get me to buy the jacket.
My glasses surfaced months later–they had fallen behind the sofa in a friend’s office. I’ve never been back to that store even though for a while they were the only ones in Santa Monica who carried Comme des Garcons for men. They have a good buyer, but that filthy little midget whore kept me away and will continue to keep me away. Even if they fire her, I won’t go back. They should be eternally avoided for ever hiring her to begin with. Fuck them and her.
David – Now you tell me!
annemarie – YES.
Iheartfashion – I was too flustered.
Skye -Hahaha! So true. It’s not too late for me to carry it out, in fact…
Mark – But would you go back disguised as Yohji????
“filthy little midget whore”…. hahahahaha!
I commend you – the only force more powerful than the Will to Smite is the Will NOT to Smite when people deserve it.
I have deep loathing for rude salespeople, particularly when they are aggressively, ceaselessly, unbearably rude. But having worked in retail myself for a scant few months, I honestly think that rude salespeople are outnumbered three-THOUSAND percent by rude customers. I had a woman YELL at me (at the top of their lungs) for folding her very long receipt in half so it fit in her bag (seriously). And I dearly hope someone spits in her food every day for the rest of her miserable life.
http://www.crocodilianblog.blogspot.com
I’m so surprised, Darling, that you didn’t recognize me while I was all hunched over in that crappy suit with that absurd little beret on! It was great pushing your buttons, although it wasn’t much fun when the sales commission checks came around that week (though it was ‘worth it’ from a ‘successfully implemented prank’ perspective). I now beg forgiveness for my previously peccadilloes and throw myself upon the boundless mercy of the court. (You should have seen the look on your face when I delivered that line, though: priceless!). Yes, I’m a loathsome and incorrigible Bastard!
8¬}D-
I put a hex on any store that doesn’t give good service. And they close down.
xx
How brilliant you can be a cunt on the cunts in their hour of need!!
thanks for the long version, I was curious about this – I’m a little addicted to bad service stories. There’s a bakery in greenpoint when the bitches treat you like shit on their shoes if you have the audacity to not be Polish and enter their establishment. Oh, and forget it if you’re black and you try to get a damn bagel in there.
I don’t know how I missed this post.
It is always funny (kinda, but not really) how snobby, pretentious and at once pit bull like, some sales clerks can be.
There is a shop here that I now go to all the time. A shop that I wait for everything to go on sale, as it is a bit (quite a bit) out of my price range.
It is a family business, I had known one of the daughters for a long time, and we were friends. Not close friends, but friends none the less. She had started doing a lot more work for the business, and was there, behind the scenes, rather than on the floor.
After going into this shop on countless occasions, with one particular bitchy clerk, looking me up and down like I was a vagrant, I got fed up. I went right up to her in my paint splattered clothes, and with a huge smile, I asked “is Barrie here? I would love to see her”
She looked a bit stunned, but went to get her on the floor. When Barrie came up, we hugged, exchanged pleasantries, then sat down on one of the sofas, and talked for about an half an hour. HA!
The snobby bitch has not given me nastiness since.