No shoes, no patience, no service

Have you ever thought that if you just got the right stuff you'd be more organized, healthy, satisfied, happy, or have more time? I have seven different paper filing systems but I can never remember which one I'm using so have papers all over the place. I once had 4 dish racks, thinking that having the right one would encourage me to do dishes more often. I have a great built-in dishwasher now and I still put dishes in the sink (mainly because I haven't emptied the dishwasher since the last load). Same with laundry, but that's another story...who stores dirty laundry in the washer? Except for my last landlady...

Somehow I feel like I am making progress in my war with DIABETES but based on my BG tests it's not at all true. But I have been walking at least 30-45 minutes a day for 9 of the last 10 days; my first yoga class in 3 years starts tomorrow evening; I found a place to play badminton on Saturdays; I have the class schedule for Goju karate, located just up the street; I'm picking up my prescription sports goggles on Friday; and I've been planning to visit my fitness club for at least 19 months.

I've been sorting my sportswear too -- that's fun. Since my fave sport is badminton I want new court shoes (all I have is grubby runners with mud on them). So I went to the mall ("Sale!!") to check out one of the two stores dedicated to sports shoes and wear. I was greeted by a clerk in the first store, but when I turned around to try to catch someone's eye everyone was busy with arranging stock and discussing Albanian Idol tryouts. At the second store I found a shoe I thought I'd like to try on, so I tried again to make eye contact (without actually shouting "some service here!!" across the not-exactly-crowded aisles) with a clerk. Eventually one spotted me on the way down the aisle and asked if I was being served "or just waiting for someone." I said, yes, I am waiting to be served. I guess this got her back up because after we discussed the kind of shoe I wanted (opposed to the one she wanted to sell me; she looked like an aerobics chick), I found a shoe I wanted to try on. She'd let me: "yes, you can try those on." I said I wanted a pair that didn't have the security ball and chain stuck on them, so I could actually walk in them and maybe be sure what they felt like. Understand at this point my credit card is burning a hole in my backpack -- I WANT to buy something. She took the shoe, started back to get a pair, was distracted by a young man who couldn't admit he wanted something to de-stink his shoes (his mom was hovering) and my f^cking useless clerk stopped serving me and started serving them. I am sitting there with my boots off and she's holding half my shoe order and discussing toe jam funk smegma with a kid. (Yes, I was ticked.)

I SAW this clerk watching me put my boots back on. As I walked past her I just said, "Some other time." Loudly. En esprit d'escalier, I should have said, "I'll come back when there aren't so many people in line behind me." Or, "When you've found my shoes, I'll be in the next store, or grabbing a coffee." I was fully prepared to stump out and tell all my friends about this lousy experience. The store would never hear about it, of course; and after all my friends stopped shopping there they might lose .046 percent in annual sales. If I had had a chance to try on those shoes I might have bought them, and maybe recommended the store to one or two people.

But instead cutting off MY nose to spite THEIR face(s), I've decided to try again: go to the back of the store where the clerks congregate for safety, get a manager, and tell the same story.

BRB with the results.