My wife needed a couple things at the mall and asked if I’d go with her for a little company on the trip. On the way she explained she needed two things from the shoe department of one of the big stores. We walked in and headed straight to women’s shoes. After two minutes I peeled off, knowing I was no longer helpful and figured I might find something more interesting going on. There wasn’t. I wandered through a couple men’s departments but I’m not a shopping kind of guy.
I wound up standing at the edge of a department, reading on my phone. Peripherally, I noticed a guy standing a few feet to my left, obviously a clerk or possibly a fellow shopping trip refugee. When the text came in with news of my parole, I found myself turned around with no idea which way to go. I started asking as I turned to my left, “Do you know which way to women’s shoes?” The words came out faster than my head turned or I might not have posed this question to a mannequin.
A passing customer lifted his eyebrows, remarking, “I don’t think he works here” and walked on. Well played, amigo. I can’t speak for other males, but that, my friends, is why this particular man no longer asks for directions.
Leave a Reply