The Raft

I am going to bore you with this story about my experience at Macy*s today, so brace yourself.
Let me begin by telling you that I loved Filene's and always hated Macy*s, always preferred Filene's. And I come from an area where I had a choice. Then, no more choice. So, I go to Macy*s when I need something department store-esque.

I prefer Baby Gap. I even prefer Gymboree, and I really, really dislike Gymboree.

Anyway - I am looking for a raincoat for Abigail. Preferably with matching boots. I can get a cute set at Gymboree if I want to spend $50, on sale. But I know she won't wear it that often, just a few times and that is the main problem I have with Gymboree - in additon to their over-the-top cutesey-ess, they are ridiculously pricey. Yes, it's very good quality, but if you know the kid will wear something for only one season, how high does the quality have to be?

Anyway... I went to Macy*s. I found nothing. They have ugly, nameless, cheap, thread-hanging, man-handled, messy, disorganized, poorly-stocked, wrongly-signed, straight-up YUCKY clothes.

First, I walked through Men's, because I always like to take a quick peek at the pants and button-down shirts for my husband.
3 fat people were sitting in the comfortable, black leather chairs, laughing and chatting. Only as I walked past them and someone called out "Do you need help with anything, ma'am?" did I realize that those 3 fat, lazy socialites were actually Macy*s employees. I threw a quick "no" over my shoulder as I shook my head in disgust.

Do I need to remind anyone of the economy and times we are living through? Those people should be so lucky to have a job - and this is how they work for their paycheck? What? Does Macy*s owe you something? Should you be allowed to sit around like a fat, lazy FUCK and get paid for it? Is Macy*s so lucky to just HAVE YOU?!
Gross.

Anyway.
I picked up 2 pairs of pants and took them with me as I wanted to check out the clearance racks for Wyatt. I can pretty much assume he will wear a 3 or 4 next winter. I won't guess what his pants will be but I know he can get away with a 4 in a sweater vest or button down, so I grabbed a couple.

Then I went to Abby's section and - as you already read, found nothing.

Lastly, I went to check out. On my way to check out, Abby thought it would be fun to hide in the racks of clothing. I have a great deal of patience for this sort of play. I have a great deal of patience for most of what Abs throws at me - I try to allow her to be 3 as much as possible - much to many a stranger's dismay. Too bad, I think, she's three and she's imaginative and she's having fun.

Anyway...
I put the pants on the counter and said "is it ok for me to pay for these here?" Knwoing full well that the intention of a dpeartment store is just that - so that I can buy men's pants and kid's sweaters at the same time.
The very un-handsome man at the counter who was also quite welcoming and polite said "yes".
But, as soon as he rang the pants up they were the wrong price. I said "oh, they rang up wrong." He promptly folded thepants up and, as he was handing them to me said to me "oh, then I'll have to send you back over to Men's with them."
I was shocked. But I was also aggrivated because by now Abby had pushed my patience to the point of her being stroller-bound and hysterical crying.
So, I said, (child screaming in the background) "you're saying that I have to go back to men's to get these pants. you can't just call?"
"No. Sorry." - with a very fake, almost condescending, smile.
So I said, "well, you'll just have to put these away yourself then, I am not going back there. Those people are lazy and unhelpful."
He said "sorry." - again, fake smile.

At this point, I am boiling inside. BOILING.

Abigail is screaming, Wyatt is escaping, I have to pee, Zit-Boy is smugly telling me to go fuck myself and I can hear those fat asses in Men's laughing.

So, I say, very calmly although I am as sure my face was burning then as it is now, recounting it, "you can't just call and ask them?"
"No. Sorry." (are you ready to kill him, too?)

So I said "Well, that is assinine. ASSININE."

And I didn't buy the pants. And I didn't get a manager. And I didn't feel any better about any of it, in fact. I may still email Macy*s with this story. Or, I may just swear them off forever. They will go the way of Amazon and Shaw's. NO MORE.

That will be hard. I don't know if I have reached the Nordstrom level of everyday shopping just yet. Ha!
There's always Lord & Taylor...