Dear Holiday Shoppers,
Seriously? How could you? Honestly, I have never been so disappointed in a collective group of people in my life. My faith in humanity may never be the same.
My day started out to be an epic one. I received a random $62.50 refund in the mail from my dentist for an overpayment due to an insurance mix-up. Getting money from my dentist felt like winning the freaking lottery. Another win? I didn’t receive an invitation to anything — no gift exchanges, no volunteer sign-ups, no multi-level marketing parties. As if that weren’t enough, my husband was home with our children and I had four (FOUR!) blissful hours of kid-free Christmas shopping ahead of me.
I headed to the mall and started out at my favorite place, the bookstore. The bookstore is always my first stop for two reasons. One, I love books. And two, I have somehow been biologically programmed with the need to, shall we say, “use the facilities” within minutes of stepping foot in any given bookstore. Which, let me tell you, really puts a bit of a spring in my step for the rest of the afternoon.
Now, when something occurs like what happened as I left the bookstore, you assume that people will say something. You believe that people will say something. You can’t imagine that people will just ignore it. But ignore it you all did. And so I exited the store, unaware of the trail of destruction in my wake.
From the bookstore, I headed to the young, hip clothing shop for my daughter. And ok, maybe I get why YOU guys didn’t say anything. I mean, you’re all basically in high school and you probably didn’t look up from your phones long enough to notice me. And even if you had, the awkwardness of the situation would have been too much for your teenage brains to process. So if I were going to forgive anyone, I guess it would be you people.
Next, I headed to the kiosk selling personalized items. And Mr. Personalization, I spoke with you directly. We had a five-minute, friendly conversation. You seemed like a nice man. The kind of person who would help out a stranger. I told you my children’s names, for God’s sake. I mean, it was for the personalizing and all, but still. You should have told me. You should not have let me walk away like that.
I moved on to the bath and body store. A store full of women, of fellow moms, for God’s sake. I am perhaps most disappointed in you. The lines were so long. I waited and waited and how many of you were behind me? Twenty? Thirty? But none of you approached me, not one. It would only have taken a small gesture on your part to save me any further shame.
And so I continued my way happily through the packed mall, on my glorious four-hour, kid-free Christmas shopping spree. And when I was done, I loaded my shiny bags into my car and drove home, never the wiser.
I walked in the door to my house and my husband came in to greet me. Suddenly, he stopped and stared.
“Oh my God,” he whispered, his eyes wide. “No! You didn’t! All through the mall? Oh my God.”
And now, dear mall shoppers, let me give you a little piece of friendly advice. When someone has spinach in their teeth, it is good manners to discreetly tell them. When someone’s pants zipper is down, they would appreciate you letting them know.
And when someone is walking around a crowded mall in December WITH A TWO FOOT TRAIN OF USED TOILET PAPER HANGING OUT OF THEIR ASS, YOU SHOULD DEFINITELY FUCKING TELL THEM, OK??
Second only to my amazement of not a single person alerting me to this horror is the fact that there is a brand of toilet paper out there so incredibly strong that it can handle holiday mall crowds as well as getting into, driving, and getting out of a vehicle without so much as a tear. Damn bookstore and their fancy triple-ply paper.
And that is why, dear people, you will not find me Christmas shopping at the mall again anytime soon. No, I will be shopping online, in the comfort of my home, with no risk of public humiliation in sight.
And with that, I bid Happy Holidays to all and to all a good night.
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About the Author
Janene Dutt resides on a small island in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and three children. Her hobbies are baking, gardening, and extreme couponing. She suffers from Pediculophobia, the fear of lice. When she’s not blogging, you can find her combing through her family’s hair. Check out her adventures on Facebook or at www.imightbefunny.com.