It had already been a very long day. We had set up everything in our booth for the big bridal show we do every January. I was worn out.
And yet there I was, standing amidst a sea of shiny red “75% off!” signs in JCPenney. The bright glare from the overhead lights hurt my tired eyes. I leaned wearily against the rack of ugly skirts and watch Becca hold a shirt up and examine it. “What do you think of this one?” she asks.
I eye it as I’ve eyed the previous fifteen shirts. “I like it,” I respond, praying this is “the one” and we can go eat.
She makes a non-comital sound and places it back on the rack. I look around the store and see the same glazed, zombie-like look from several other men. I seriously ponder flipping one of the racks of clothes over and setting it on fire. What JCPenney really needs is a good old-fashioned riot. I instinctively know the other men in the store would join me.
“Babe, you don’t have to stand here, you can go look at other things.” Becca’s comment snaps me out of my day dream just as I get to the part where the other men hoist me on their shoulders and declare me their king.
“There’s really nothing I want to look at here,” I say tiredly.
“They have things other than clothes you know,” she says.
“Well…..they have bedding.”
My eyes widen in mock excitement. “Ooooohhh! Bedding! Point me in that direction,” I say sarcastically.
She laughs at my reaction and the realization that I would never, ever have a desire to go look at sheets in JCPenney.