Stupid (stoopit) people...

Sigh.

This will be one of several posts, I gather, since the world is filled with the above-captioned, bane's of my existence.

The beginning of my lunch hour today was okay. I was excited. In fact, the word was "psyched." You see, I have slacked off from taking my high energy, gut-wrenching spin classes at lunch, due to the parking issues here at work. Today I decided, since I'd eaten enough to feed a small village this weekend, that I NEEDED to go. There was NO WAY I could talk myself out of it, so I had PSYCHED myself out to get there.

I snuck out of work early (ssh), hoping to get to the gym, do some weights, do my class and get showered, shined and arrive back at work in enough time.

Everything was working out. I snuck out. Arrived at the gym. Ran to the locker room. Had freshly washed gym clothing. Started to change and BAM. The realization hit me...I'd forgotten my workout shoes. F***.

I started cursing myself but then became quite Zen. Since I had flip-flops on, I realized I could still do the weights. I did the weights. It took all of 17 minutes.

When I left the gym, I thought about it. I really need a new pair of running shoes and since I had PLENTY of time, I decided to go and get a new pair.

Since I can't function in a mall setting, I decided to go to a sporting goods store that usually has great deals, at least the one I'd known a few years back when I lived in the Valley. BIG MISTAKE.

This store is well-known around town, but THIS particular location...SUCKS.

First off, the parking is in the back of the store, the doorway IN is in the front. That's already enough to push me off a bridge.

When I arrived inside, there were SALE signs everywhere, which of course, made me believe I would find the sure thing. But wait, there were four looooong tables of "sale" shoes, but they were scattered like a rummage sale. No mind. I am hardly upset about shopping or working for shopping. As I approached, there were boxes strewn about. When a box of shoes looked like something I might like, I'd open it to find a missing shoe. Or a mismatched shoe. Or the wrong size on the box. Or the complete wrong shoe in the wrong box. In essence, it was ALL wrong.

I decided that maybe I should just look at the regular old shoes that were on the wall. That would have been fine, only there were shoes missing. Some shoes were not marked with a price. I finally found a pair that I thought I might like. They were worth the hassle.

I asked the only person that looked remotely reliable if he worked there. He shook his head no. Hmmm. I went to the front desk where this little mouse of a woman was standing. I asked if there was someone that could assist me. She quietly said, "you have to ask someone in the shoe department." Right. Okay. "Um, right, okay. There is no one that looks remotely shoe-person-like in that department." The once mousey lady picks up the store CB and SCREAMS, " A CUSTOMER NEEDS ASSISTANCE IN THE SHOE DEPARTMENT."

Much like the Keebler elves, a small group comes darting out of the back room wearing their whites shirts, black pants and flat-lined, "deer in the headlights" looks. I walk over and calmly ask if I can have said shoe in my size. Wide-eyed he says, "Um, no, we are out of those."

Grrrr.

I walk to put the shoe back and look at other shoes. Of course, they are the ones with no price. When I turn to ask more questions about said shoes, there is no one around again.

I then opted to go a section called, "Women's clearance shoes." I thought, F*** it. If I don't find the perfect pair, I will grab a pair that can get me through until the sure things are found. Again, every box was mismatched, mismarked, etc. I then found this really nice pair of shoes. A little pricier than I'd anticipated. I put them on and they felt amazing. I walked around. I jumped. I did a cartwheel (not really). It was great.

Out of nowhere, Salesman from Hell comes over to tell me that those are "men's" shoes. I ask how he knows. He said he saw me take them from the "men's" section. I said, "no, actually, these came from right here" as I pointed to said woman's rack. He then scoffed and said, "oh, THOSE are in the wrong section."

At this point, I did not really care. I would have bought those. They were fine. But he TOOK them from me. Out of my hands.

I finally staggered to one more rack. Tried on a pair of shoes. I liked them, they were fine, whatever. I brought them up to the counter. I was third in line. The man being rung up was buying weights...and FLIRTING with the different cashier. Flirting to a point that when they tried to lift the weights for her to find the price, they were giddy, giggling and WASTING my time.

I threw the shoes back onto the rack, did a 10-point hair flip and called it a day.

I was 15 minutes late to work.