The Day I Wished I Hadn’t Bought Underwear
Foo Fighters – “Still”
Had a bit of an embarrassing moment today. (Note to family members: you may not want to read this post. My underwear is mentioned. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.) Daniel and I went shopping because he needed pants for work and, well, I’m going through that phase again where I hate everything I own, so I wasn’t opposed to a shopping excursion. After spending several hours in the mall, we wandered through Meier & Frank toward the exit and then realized that we’ve never really bothered looking around M&F. So, we look.
Daniel finds pants, and I find a pair of Nautica underwear for $2 (clearance!) and they are super cute. We make our way back downstairs and attempt to locate a register. It would appear that there is only one on the first floor, and it was unmanned. No store personnel can be seen for miles. We wander.
Finally we see a lady, but a couple has already flagged her down and she is helping them and their rather disinterested three-year-old choose his own (Ralph Lauren) bedsheets. We hover nearby, not wanting to seem stalkery but sort of wanting to get the salesperson’s attention.
Right when we thought we had her, a funny little old man comes up behind us. “I can help you over here.” Not wanting to seem rude, we follow him to the register and he begins the transaction.
I am already somewhat embarrased because some 85-year-old man is handling my future undergarments, and my future undergarments happen to be a thong. Albeit a very tasteful thong, but a thong nonetheless. So. Somewhat slow but very nice old man is fumbling with the ink-tag metal-detector-y thing on the underwear. He continues fumbling. Mumbles something about asking the lady for help, and wanders off WITH MY UNDERWEAR IN HAND.
The lady comes back with him, obviously terribly amused, and exclaims, “Well, that was a sight! I just saw R (old man) walking over to me with a THONG in his hands! A THONG! I just laughed and said, ‘R! What are you doing?!?’ It was just too funny.” I am laughing, because it was all extremely amusing, but these are my underwear we are all discussing. It is a bit uncomfortable.
The lady makes an attempt at the tag. No luck. Makes some more attempts. Rummages through all the drawers at the counter to see if there was a special sort of tool for it. Finally resorts to calling the lingerie department upstairs to ask them how in the world to get the tag off. Instructions are given and tag is removed! Yay!
By this time, about three other people are hovering around the counter, Daniel is through paying (he bought jeans and just threw the underwear in for me since they were cheap) and the lady is still obviously amused. We say thanks and head outside, and my cheeks are still totally pink. It definitely could have been worse, but I still have this horrible image of this poor little old man carrying my thong through M&F to find somebody to help him with it.
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