So, the shopping thing. Not really a fan. I got up early on Friday to work what was supposed to be a 7-3 at the restaurant, but which became a 7-5 on account of how busy it was. Yay tips. But my coworkers were all like, “Did you go Black Friday shopping? Are you going to go Black Friday shopping? Shopping?”
And I was like, “I hate shopping.”
And there was this moment of silence. They started following me around. “You hate shopping?”
“You hate shopping?”
I don’t know if it was because I’m a female that they found this so odd, or if they had never before contemplated anyone – of any gender – who disliked packing up into a car, fighting traffic for road and parking space, and then being funneled through a maze of items, trying to decide if the sale signs are telling the truth and reading fine print and wishing you’d remembered coupons.
I have tried to make it abundantly clear to all of my family and friends that I hate shopping, but they don’t believe me. They think I’ve just never been to the right store, or I’ve never gone with the right people, or I’ve never gone at the right time. They come up to me: “You want to go shopping?”
And I’m like, “No.”
And they’re like, “But we’re going to Particularly Awesome Store.”
“And Particularly Awesome Person is going to come too.”
“And we’re not leaving until Particularly Convenient Time.”
This scares them away for a little while, but a week or two later, they’re at it again. It must be the challenge of the thing, because, really, I’m not the most pleasant fellow to be around. Especially while shopping.
Sure. I’ve gone shopping. I go shopping. It’s unavoidable unless you want to buy everything online. Which, I don’t know if that’s possible. Yet. So when my shoes are falling apart, I go get some new ones. When there isn’t any food in the house, I go get more. When people need nice gifts for Christmas and birthdays, I go hunting. But I go alone or with just one other person that hates shopping as much as I do. We go at a time when no one else is shopping. In, purchase, out.
I can think of only one – ONE – exception to this rule. And that’s bookstores.
Oh, bookstores. How you trap me . . .
That’s generally how my family tricks me into coming on day-long shopping escapades.
“You have presents to buy.”
“There’s still four whole days before Christmas Eve.”
Pause. “We’ll look at books.”
“I’ll get my coat; DON’T LEAVE WITHOUT ME!”