Target. Afternoon. Hopes of a quiet store, reality; chaos.
In our town we have a “West” side and an “East” side. Traditionally the West was the home of the upper class, while the East was more working class. It is a bit more blended now, but if you visit the East side Walmart, you will notice obvious differences in the patrons in comparison to the West one. Just… trust me.
Target, being an even “classier” department store Walmart, is often sardined with clickity-clack, spike-heeled cougars, mothers-with-money and plastic people. One the West side. Today was no exception.
As I stood in the isle happily alone, contemplating the iPods and accessories, clickity-clack rounded the corner talking in her Outdoor Voice, tailed by an overly excited Target employee acting as her personal concierge to the store. Her loud voice shattered my concentration and I did as I customarily do, politely excusing myself, smiling and moving my cart (yes, I do do this). Undeserving of eye contact, being a mere casualty of a populated planet, clickity-clack did not condescend to look me in the eye, turn her head in my direction or pardon herself, but continued to yak as she passed by, stopping to view the items on the shelf, carrying on with her Outdoor Voice as I drew blood from biting my lip.
“Don’t mind me, I’m just taking up space in your world honey.”