A weekend or two ago, my brother & I ventured to the city to buy some new clothes.
Mike was looking at a replacement shirt which made him look like a surfy lumberjack–
*Leigh breaks into a song like every Python-fan would*
Ohhhhh… I'm a lumberjack… and surfy, hey
I sleep all night and I work all day
I cut down trees, I surf and jump, I avoid the tourist tees
Sometimes I take a wipeout, and have salty sea for tea
–what was I saying? Oh yes….
So Mike & I went to General Pants in Bondi Junction first, a place that seems wasted if you could imagine a shop that has loads of things along the walls but people working there who obviously couldn't give a fuck and are happy to insult your intelligence on a regular basis.
Mike asked them if they had a smaller size of a particular shirt. The girl looked at him with blank eyes, her long sandy blonde hair seeming more intent on circling just how shallow those eyes really were. She disappeared for a few minutes and came back with a striped shirt that was obviously not the one Mike had asked for as it was… a different brand.
"No," Mike said, "this is a different brand."
Unsatisfied, she went back and looked again.
She came back and said "this one has stripes," assuming Mike didn't care about the brand and only wanted stripes.
What the hell? Was this girl an idiot? It wouldn't surprise me if the answer was yes, but was it the policy of this store to insult the customer's intelligence?
Oooo… you mean to say that brands are irrelevant to customers and we only want patterns & colours! My my my! How schweet!
We asked her to check if it was in the city and after getting a "yes" though a "yes" that I wouldn't have left a jelly mold on, we moved on.
To the city! The place where parking will cost you an arm and a leg if you don't read through the terms & conditions of every freaking sign! The place where people don't go on long weekends for fear of uncertain death and boredom! The city!