Something is wrong with the computers and server at work so I am forced to sit here and wait in agitated expectation before I can finish my projects. Patience is a virtue, I keep telling myself, but I am certainly not learning it.
Last night was no exception.
My younger sister is incredibly efficient in all she does. Prior to our trip last night to look at wedding dresses, she went online, wrote down all the numbers of the dresses in which she was interested, and was ready to get them on and off to make the evening brief.
It was anything but brief.
First, the women at the shop seemed confused by the numbers.
“I thought this would help you locate the dresses more easily,” my sister said. They stared at her with blank faces.
“Uh, no cause, like, we have to go online and look up the dresses for you.”
“But I already did that for you.”
“Well, see, we don’t know about the numbers. We have to know what they look like and then look them up in the racks. Can you just look through this booklet and find which ones those numbers go to?”
“Wait a minute,” I interrupted. “You organize the dresses on the racks based on what they look like in the catalogue? Not by identification numbers? How does that work?”
That sentence proved too confusing for them. One girl just stared straight ahead and absently shrugged her shoulders.
“We’re just going to have to look up that whole list of dresses,” the other one whined.
There were eight dresses.
Well yes, I thought, you are a dress shop. You have to get the dresses and let people try them on. That’s what you do.
The girls “helping” us sighed. The younger one leaned over and grabbed the list.
“Ok. I’ll do it for you. It is just going to take awhile. But I’m going to take my time, and you can go look at shoes.”
WHAT? You’re going to take your time? What just happened here?
The rest of the store experience was ridiculous but I’ll spare you.
We left laughing at the strange behavior of the women in the shop only to discover that my sister had locked her keys in her car.
Great.
She called her fiancée and he agreed to bring the keys to her. It would be about an hour which gave us plenty of time to eat dinner.
Where I had an entire meal spilled down my leg.
Then we ran over to Target because her fiancée wasn’t there yet, and we needed to grab a few items. I hate carrying things like purses, so I grabbed my ATM card and asked my sister to put it in her purse. She did.
But then she lost it.
So we went to the customer service line where we waited for someone to find the card and, (praise the Lord) they did. While we stood there, though, a young woman who looked like outerspace had invaded her brain stood whining at the cashier.
“I want to return this,” she said.
“Ok,” the cashier responded nicely.
“But I don’t have my card so can you call and get the number for me?”
“Uh, what?” the man said.
“You call. You have to call them and get the number.”
“Call who?” he said with a look of intense confusion on his face.
“Call the place where they keep the card records cause I didn’t bring my card.”
“We don’t have a place like that.”
“Yes you do, all stores have it. You just call them.”
“Even if there was a place to call and get your credit card information, they wouldn’t give it to me anyway---that’s private information,” he said, appealing to reason---for which I silently applauded him. Even if it really just sent her off in the wrong direction.
“See, you can call them because I have my social security number, and I’m here, and they’ll give you my card number so I can return this. You’re all the same corporation.”
Who is all the same corporation? I wondered? Looney Toons and Target? Where did this girl come from?
While that went on for about 45 minutes of insanity, another man came up behind us in line with a chair to return. He set it down to walk off and get something else. Another woman took it as a courtesy and sat down. Were we in a circus?
Finally we were told that the manager was going to get the card from the cash office.
30 minutes later the manager walked up. She asked for our information, and then left to get the card.
30 minutes later she came back. Chewing on the remnants of her dinner. She stopped and had dinner while we were waiting for my card. WHAT?!
“Yeah, how long ago did we call you?” she asked.
“You didn’t. We’ve been standing here for an hour.” I responded.
“Yeah, I didn’t see it. Do you know who was helping you?” The woman who had helped us an hour before was just finishing her break. She came back to the counter and explained to the younger manager about the card and then turned and looked at us. She rolled her eyes and shook her head.
“Oh, you dropped it?” the manager said.
With nearly catatonic expressions my sister and I nodded. Yes. We dropped it. How would that make a difference as to where it is located now? Do they have a separate shelf for “Dropped it” and another one for “Set it down” and another one for “Not quite sure”?
After the young, confused manager walked off the older, more helpful woman said quietly:
“She’s new.” We smiled and nodded. She was either new or just extremely mindless. Possibly both.
When she returned with the card and handed it to us, (to our great relief) and we had signed everything I asked her if there was anything else we needed to do.
“Umm….not really…”
Not really? Or really?
As if my evening hadn’t been bizarre enough---how did I end it? My sister got in her car after her fiancée rescued us and I got in mine. I then drove in the direction of home.
But I missed my exit. By a long shot.
I detoured out into a region of
I was too tired to cry. ;-)
Please see Lindsey's comment for the best part of the night. I forgot about it. Yes, it's completely and entirely true. Whoever named their child that was just plain cruel.-
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