So I broke down and went to Urban Outfitters to buy shoes, and as promised, there is a story involved.
I went in before my shift on Friday and was half-assedly greeted by this guy wearing a toque indoors (how ironic, asshole) who's folding shirts and looks up briefly to mumble a weak "Hey" but barely any sound comes out so I'm just assuming that's what was said. I admittedly haven't been in UO in awhile, so I pause momentarily to look around and familiarize myself with my surroundings before venturing any further into the unknown.
I spot some shoes over by a fake hearth (cozy) but they aren't the ones I'm looking for. Still looking, my eyes start to glaze over and finally I look past the hearth an see shoes in the distance, my line of sight partially obstructed by a stark white leather couch (because people who dress like bag ladies can afford leather couches).
I stride over confidently and pick the display model up and hold it in my hand for a couple of minutes running my fingers over the seams, exploring every nook and cranny with my curious fingers. After a few moments I collect myself and start looking around for the boxes, cursory glances here and there, but no dice. I have to find a sales associate to help me, except I can't quite positively identify anyone who is actually in their employ.
I make my way over to the disaffected greeter/t-shirt folder extraordinaire, but I am foiled by the arrival of one of his friends (or a really friendly customer, sometimes it's hard to tell). I try to wait it out, but who knows how long the convo will last and I don't want to interrupt in case it is another customer but I'm still kinda on a deadline so I leave, somewhat dejected and try to find someone else who can assist me.
I see an oddly dressed fellow poring over a clipboard by the till island but I can't quite tell if he works at UO (he's wearing a hideous soccer jersey) or if he's a delivery person and I refuse to ask the dreaded "Um, do you work here?" so I make my way back to the greeter. He's free now and I ask if someone can help me get a size in a pair of shoes. He looks at me, rolls his eyes and sighs (he's busy, I can see that, and t-shirts don't just fold themselves) as he walks away. He motions another girl and she rolls her eyes too (I think) but ambles over nonetheless. I show her the shoes I want and ask for my size. She grabs the box and half-tosses it on the table at my knees. I open the box and try on one, it fits so I just tell her I'll take them and she puts the lid on the box and hands them to me.
I make my way over to the till island and have to choose between two lines, one with 12 people in it (no joke) and one with 2 being manned by the soccer jersey guy (who knew). I decide that the soccer jersey guy is probably a safe bet and assume that his line is shorter because he just opened up. I grab my spot in line and wait. By the time the person in front of me has been served the other cashier has rung through all 12 of her customers and a few extra on top of that. I'm still waiting for the soccer fan to pick up the pace and stop delicately creaming his pants over ugly floppy hats.
Finally it's my turn and I have to remind the soccer fan to please take off the security tag from my shoes lest I have to return for its removal and actually spend more time in this godforsaken place.
After picking up lunch for The Pansy, I show off my latest acquisition and notice how oddly they fit for the first time. I've got ample room in the toe area and I'm wearing a half-size down from what I normally wear as it is (I like my shoes to fit tight, and slips generally stretch out a ton, so a little discomfort at first is for the best in the long run). At this point, I'm already at work and refuse to go to UO twice in one day but a couple hours later The Goth Girl comes in and agrees to exchange them for me.
Of course she had her iPod earphones in one ear so wasn't really paying attention to my instructions and thought I just wanted her to check to see if they had my size. She calls back to report they do, and I'm having a nervous breakdown. The Pansy explains that I had already bought the shoes and I just need her to exchange them for a smaller size. She makes her way back to the store, picks up my shoes and regales me with tales from UO.
It seems when she went there to inquire about my shoes, the guy was super rude to her and asked
"Do you even know who Mark Gonzales is?" "Um, no, but the shoes aren't for me, they're for a friend" was her response
"Typical. We had a bet going that most people ho bought these wouldn't even know who he was" was his snide retort. "Like I said before, I'm just picking them up for a friend and I'm pretty sure she known who he is" "Well, what do you think of [the shoes]?""They're sweet. I like the robot. It's cool" "Point proven" the sales associate spits as he walks away and The Goth Girl just stands there in total disbelief.
"Who the fuck does he think he is, God's gift to retail? He works at fucking Urban Outfitters!"as she recounts the story, she seems likes he's near tears with rage. I demand that she complain when she goes back to return the shoes and that if she doesn't I will. There's really no need to be rude, I get that he probably has to deal with total fucktards all day but don't bite the hand that feeds you.
She returns and confronts him and he's taken aback and apologizes because he was caught off guard so no harm no foul, but still. Long story short, I got my new shoes and they're rad, but I probably won't be going back to UO, but it's their loss, not mine