The Opposite of Retail Therapy

At the mall this afternoon, I heard some new Jack Johnson in Anthropologie, then again a few minutes later in the Gap. When I noticed it the second time, I thought, "what a perfect song for a clothing store." Then I got the chills.

To this day, I still detest the Peter Gabriel song "Red Rain" for the sole reason that it was on the tape we listened to EVERY DAY when I worked at Ann Taylor during the summer of 1995. Not only did that job suck because I couldn't wear anything sleeveless (at a time when every shirt in the store was sleeveless) or slingbacks (or any other shoe that showed the racy, racy heel) - it also sucked because I had three managers. Kim, the main manager, was nice enough and normal enough. She'd clearly come to terms with the fact that her college education wasn't going to get her farther than managing a store in Annapolis Mall. Bobbie, the first assistant, had a voice like Fran Drescher - my inability to deal with her pitch was what drove me to quit. But if I hadn't quit because of her, I would have because of Amy, the third manager. She had a habit of saying things like, "Kit, your challenge now is to fold those t-shirts!" Like she was asking me to advice on nuclear policy. Seriously. I'll get on that "challenge."

The other "associates" were mostly pretty cool, however. My favorite was a woman who worked at Hooters right before AT. Interesting switch. She really was a nice lady. And didn't seem trashy at all. I guess the clothes can make the woman...