"You're obviously in the wrong place, PLEASE LEAVE"

Forgive me, I thought I was in the Warwick  Mall Macy's; I didn't realize there was a dress code.

There I was, casually browsing around the shoe and bag department in the newly remodeled, gleaming white, shiny store. I was looking to splurge on some new sandals and a bag with my birthday money when I noticed something almost immediately. Apparently, along with the facelift of the structure they also lifted all the noses of their employees. I could feel  their eyes on me, judging me, looking me up and down as if I had just taken "5" from my part-time job as the greasy Sizzler operator with the traveling carnival.
It was unnerving. I watched as other women customers teetered around on seemingly too small high-heels clad in heinous power suits. These women were flocked to as if they were a "free lobster" table. I, on the other hand, was wearing tailored  jeans, sequined flip-flops, a banded top and short-sleeved cardigan with a bright yellow canvas bag on my shoulder. I didn't look like I just rolled out of bed. I had on makeup, as I always  do. My hair was straightened and neatly bobby-pinned. I was wearing accessories. I was part of the functioning world of everyday women. However, not one of the employees bothered to greet me or ask if I needed help. Why? They were probably too busy wondering how I could dare to wear flip-flops in public.

I didn't imagine this scenario. It was blatantly obvious. These high and mighty Macy's gals are apparently required to wear an I'm better than you  attitude along with their all-black wardrobes. I felt like I was in that classic scene from Pretty Woman. You know, the one where Julia Roberts' character is shopping in that upscale boutique whilst wearing her street-walking getup. The snooty-ass employees refuse to wait on her after making their snap judgement that she is poor trash, deserving of nothing but rags.

"You're obviously in the wrong place, PLEASE LEAVE." 

This was all I could think about as I wandered the displays of shoes. I remember how in that scene she explains to the women that she has money to spend. I was in the exact situation only I wasn't wearing a mini-skirt and thigh-high patent-leather boots. Maybe I should try that next time.

I didn't buy a thing. I think I actually refused to like anything because I was so pissed off. Why should I be viewed as anything but a customer? Who the hell are these uppity bitches to decide who is worthy of their help? I can tell you one thing, Macy's has definitely lost my respect and my desire to ever shop there again. I can do just as well at Marshalls, DSW and Kohl's, thank you. So to all the holier than thou Robert Palmer video cast-offs wearing too much makeup and perfume desperately trying to mask your real age by shortening your skirts and caking up your fine lines: I, too, can judge ... and I think you all suck. Did you want to wrap that  up? Here's your free gift ... (censored by Sheribloggins due to offensive content)

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