2nd Runner Up:
Annoying Cell Phone Woman (ACPW)
On the phone through the entire shopping experience, up to and including the transaction at the register. You know this woman, everyone knows this woman, she’s everywhere. Thinks everyone wants to hear about her hair appointment, her kid’s soccer practice, her husband’s business trip, her beauty secrets. You know ten years ago we were all able to go shopping at the mall without talking on the phone. Think about it. Also? Unless the call is an emergency – and I am talking about maybe someone who is a doctor and has to walk someone through an emergency delivery because there was a earthquake and Zack and Jessi are stuck on an elevator with Mr. Belding’s pregnant wife, you know of what I speak – than hang up the phone. It’s degrading to both of us. And lastly, do not yell at me at the end of the transaction because you don’t think the price is right – after I have hit the total key – because you were so busy with your all important conversation that you couldn’t be bothered to look at the prices AS I RANG THINGS UP.
1st Runner Up
Could You Look Down My Pants Man (Down Pants)
Oh yes, he was at Dillard’s too this weekend. I was in the big and tall department when Mr. Down Pants approached me. He was in this department not because he was tall, ok? Me being the ever helpful and diligent Dillard’s employee approach Mr. Down Pants to offer him assistance. He asks me if I can tell him what size the pants are that he is wearing. Mmm hmm. He says the tag is in there somewhere, could I just look? All the while holding his big ass pants open. Mr. Down Pants cannot check himself because the size of his stomach prohibits this activity, it happens, but come on. He keeps asking me to look, claiming the size tag is “way down in there”, and maybe I could just reach my hand down. Riiiight. I am so not falling for that trick again. I tell Mr. Down Pants that perhaps he should step into the fitting room and check for himself.
And the winner, by the most obnoxious of margins is . . .
She seems perfectly normal at first. Asks me to find some size 44X30 pants for her husband. No problem, I am here to make the Dillard’s family proud. Pants found, success achieved. Another day is worth living. Then she tries to find some shirts on her own. She screams, upon finding a 5X shirt, “Oh my god, who would wear something this big?!!” Holy toast woman, I agree that maybe a 5X isn’t a healthy size, but there are other customers in the department, and hello, your husband with the 44 inch waist isn’t exactly a Richard Simmons. What? He’s fit, right? Anyhow, these 5X people are paying my salary today, so back the heck off. She just will not quit, she’s picking up 60 inch waist pants and making jokes. Shoot, you know it’s ok to think things sometimes, but when you hear sound coming out of your mouth, that’s when it stops being thinking and becomes talking. For future reference file that one away. Then she comes up to me, and whispers, “with a 60 inch waist, how could you ever find a dick under all that skin?” I kid you not, the woman said this to me. I don’t know what about me screamed that I would like to hear this information, I work at Dillard’s not a whorehouse, but I can see how the two could be confused. I said, “I have no response to that” and walked away.
I mean really, is there ever a good response to that question?
2005-09-12 at 12:07 p.m.