Last call, more guilt, and a near-death experience.

(January 3, 2007)

It's last call to visit with me if you're in Dayton, as I'll be re-opened for business (translation: going back to WV) on the sixth.

At the mall today, I experienced more middle-class consumer guilt after I watched a large-footed baby Sorostitute --16 or 17, maybe -- abuse a meek salesperson. The baby Sorostitute wanted red shoes, and the salesperson accidentally brought out green ones, so the baby Sorostitute decided to express her displeasure with the situation as rudely as possible:

LFBS: Hun -- these are green. I want red.
MS: Sorry about that. Size nine?
LFBS: Yeah.

Meek salesperson was trying to get shoes for several other, only slightly less demanding, customers. Sadly, there were no more red size nines for the baby Sorostitute, so she left to terrorize another wage slave.

I don't like to see people who work in retail abused. I almost said something to the large-footed baby Sorostitute, but I didn't. Then I felt guilty about it when I saw the four-inch vertical marks on the meek salesperson's wrists, fresh enough to be puffy, but not bandaged. Honestly, I don't see how this suicide attempt could have failed.

Then I felt even more guilty because being that close to someone who almost died, but didn't, made me feel like a really bad person for being in a mall. Having worked in the service industry around the holidays, I have certainly contemplated dragging something pointy across my wrists, but I've never seen such a sincere effort. Being around people who are more obviously miserable than I am makes me feel bad about not feeling worse. Hopefully, this will put me off shopping for a while.