I’m getting sick of shopping.
Five words I never thought I would put down on paper. Or type on the computer, oh you know what I mean.
I am pretty much, a shopaholic. Don't worry, I'm fully aware of my situation, I just really, really enjoy wandering around and buying shit. Even more so when I have a mission. Like, oh, say for instance, a new doona for our bed. A man, or most men, would walk into the nearest shop that sells doonas, preferably one that had easy parking access, pick one out, pay a bazillion dollars for it, walk out and go directly home.
And that brings a tear to my eye.
See, how does he know whether, if he had bothered to canvas at least 4 other stores, that he may not have got a) something better, b) something cheaper and c) found something else like a lovely pair of winter boots inadvertently whilst casually strolling past Novo. He wouldn’t. And that is a total shame.
I of course have regressed as per usual because the above has absolutely nothing to do with why I am beginning to loathe walking into a shopping centre.
I blame the Dead Sea Minerals. Without them, there would be little reason for a hairy Brazilian Lothario to approach me whilst I walk innocently through the shopping centre. Nor would there be reason for him to be calling me Beautiful and/or gorgeous over the din of the shopping centre crowd and trying to convince me my skin would look ten years younger with a dab of his miracle dead sea crap. Hey dude, you just insinuated I look a bit rough and basically said I look like an old hag. Impressing your target market - Fail.
I have these guys sussed now though. Funnily enough, I find I just can’t get enough of whatever is the shop window directly opposite their stand. Wow! A bidet shop. How interesting, are those arse squirting toilet seats in that window? Or else I will suddenly engage my three year old in a conversation about his kindy girlfriend. Or whip out the mobile phone and have a fake conversation.
What about the Citibank people trying to catch my eye so they can try and flog me a new credit card with an introductory rate of 1%, to be increased to a bazillion percent in 6 months. I often just try and give these people a wide berth, but when that is not possible and I get too close, why do I feel the need to make them feel better and not be too rude?
“Excuse me madam, are you satisfied with your current cred” I cut her off with a tight, frosty smile and speed walk past with a “No thanks, I’m fine”. Why don’t I just stop and say what I really want which is this: “Look lady, I know you’ve got a job, but I just want to walk through this shopping centre and not be harassed every five fucking metres. If I want a god damn credit card, I will seek out a god damn credit card. And by the way, I’m only 35, certainly too young to be called Madam, now please politely fuck off and LEAVE ME ALONE!”
What about the ones who want to lock you into a yearly contract to donate to the Heart Research Institute or WWF, World Wildlife Fund. Do you reckon these good looking hippies are doing this out of the goodness of their hearts? No freaking way. Commission. My boss told me once she got accused of “not loving the animals enough” because she walked on by. A heads up, insults and shame-outs will get you nowhere.
Then there’s the stalls selling teddy bears for cancer research or raffle tickets for Rotary. Whilst I do partake in buying something probably 5 times out of ten, I do for some reason, find it necessary, to say to no one in particular whilst walking past them. “Oh I’ll get some on my way out”. Like they give a shit. They're probably muttering “either pay up or walk past crazy lady”. And I really don’t have a problem with these guys. Except the guilt factor I find I associate with it.
It just shits me to no end the amount of these mid corridor hawkers that have cropped up of late. Everywhere you look; there they are, waiting for you with nail decorations or an ugly monkey jumper. They are inescapable.
Take probably in my opinion, the best shopping Centre on the Gold Coast, Robina Town Centre. This shopping centre is so full of win, I can barely articulate. It has everything in one spot. All three major department stores, David Jones, (it is about to get a Myer), all the big grocery stores, Max Brenner, (a grown ups Charlie and the Chocolate Factory) every specialty store you can imagine and even a V-Max movie theatre and restaurants. It has it all. Yet, it is populated by the largest amount of mid centre “salespeople” on the Gold Coast. For this reason alone, it makes me want to stay away.
So to all those people out there, trying to sell this stuff, realise this: We will not be pleased to see you, nor will be overjoyed when you select one of us out of the masses and insinuate we are massive fatties and in desperate need of a session on your Vibro board. I have a message from us to you: LEAVE US THE HELL ALONE TO SHOP IN PEACE! If we want what you got, we’ll come over. Okay?
I’m not alone right?