Monday, May 01, 2006
On Wednesday I was excited to spend my hard-earned Easter money (thanks mom...) on a new pair of Steve Maddens....one must understand that when it comes to hot, when it comes to feet, when it comes to comfortable, when it comes to classy and cute and sassy and all of the above, one must go to Steve Madden himself. So in order to save money, I headed off to the land of Nordstrom Rack, and indeed, found a pair of GOLD METALLIC WEDGES. Oh friends. Hot is the key word.
Hot. Hot. Hot - in a very Paris Hilton like sort of way. For reals.
I get to the register...it's exactly $52.02...I pull out of my wallet a the EXACT cash amount, minus the TWO CENTS that I did not have. Now here's the dilemma: it's two cents. Two cents. Not two quarters, not two dollars, but two PENNIES. I'm digging through my purse, looking for a couple of spare pennies, but I must be a really clean girl who's recently cleaned out her purse because there are no pennies to be found.
"Do you by any chance have two pennies lying around?" I SWEETLY ask the girl at the register.
"Oh no...definitely not." Short and to the point. Hmm.
"Well, could you by any chance spare two cents for me?"
"Um, no. Do you have two cents in your purse?" (Please refer to the "digging around in the purse" paragraph for that answer). "Do you just want to put the two cents on your card?" she then asks.
ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Now, mind you, I didn't say that outloud, but I definitely WANTED to. I'm getting a little irate, a little pissed - maybe? - at this point.
"Do you want me to walk out to my car and get two pennies from there?"
"Sure!" (She's still so damn chipper - I can't stand it!). So I head out to my car...furious by this point...irate that she doesn't understand the severity of the "putting the customer first" motto.
10 minutes later (5 there, 5 back...), I arrive back at destination cash register. Blame it on my red(dish) hair, blame it on my need to be right, WHATEVER IT IS, I throw the pennies on the counter.
Throw them. Yes.
I am so not Jesus to people over the age of 18 in Auburn, I've apparently realized.
I take my receipt and I storm out of there.
Madder than hell.
So: was I right, or was I wrong? It was TWO CENTS.
(And the aftermath to the story: I felt bad. I do want to be Jesus to people, but sometimes my hot Steve Maddens get in the way. The next day I went back...wrote her a note, said I was sorry and brought her a stack of pennies for the next customer who's two cents short...).
Oh short little Asian friend at the register.