This morning I psyched myself up to go to The Container Store. I mentally started preparing for the shopping adventure 24 hours earlier. Through out Friday I thought: I'm going to go to The Container Store the very first thing Saturday morning, and, 9AM, The Container Store. It'll have everything I need, and, I just love driving downtown on a Saturday, paying to park in a garage, then fighting tiny Asian women in the rain who are using umbrellas five times too big for even a 300 pound person! Which, is a total lie. I hate it. I probably wouldn't have even gone if I weren't feeling guilty about not having my bedroom put back together since it got painted three weeks ago.
Sorta tangent: what is it with tiny Asian women and golf umbrellas?
Anyway, I needed those specialty boxes that hide things which people put on shelves. Boxes in various sizes and magazine files. I love those boxes because on the outside they're perfect but on the inside there messy and filled with crap. Kind of like half the porn performers I know.
At the store I walked around and surveyed the scene. I found a bunch of stuff I needed and the majority of it was on sale, which was a plus since nothing in The Container Store comes cheap. I cleared product off a few shelves but still needed some boxes that I couldn't quite reach. I hunted down a salesman who was just a bit to chipper to help me.
"It would be my pleasure to get those boxes for you!" he beamed. "Let me just go grab a ladder." Off he skipped as I judged him. My gaydar wasn't going off so he must have been on Ecstasy. While he was gone I started to try and make room in an already overflowing cart for three more letter boxes.
He came back and saw I had three fold-up olive color boxes with black leather trim with a contrasting luggage stitch in my basket. "I'm glad you noticed those boxes. They're a brand new item. You're exactly the demographic I knew would purchase them."
What the fuck is that supposed to mean? "Are you calling me a 'fag'?" I asked.
His eyes widened in shock. He started to fumble and stutter incoherently.
"I'm just kidding" I said. "I'm a total fag."
"I meant it in the nicest possible way."
"Ha! No doubt. I'm just giving you a hard time." And I was-- but really, I'm the exact demographic that would purchase those fabric boxes? Sheesh. Bet he thinks I have AIDS as well.
I managed to escape the store with spending less than $170 which as anyone who has shopped at The Container Store can tell you, is pretty good. Bills easily run upwards of $300+ for most people.
Now that I've gotten all the boxes home and have placed them on the shelves, I have no energy to fill them up. So for now they will look perfect but be empty, like the other half of the porn performers I know.