Turned my style OFF

Money doesn’t grow on trees.
That said, I decided to consign a bunch of clothes that no longer fit my body, taste, or closet. In October, I brought in a ton of clothes to a local consignment shop which operates in multiple locations throughout MN.
The first round was fine. I made money off some clothes, which came in handy around Christmas, and only had to pick up three pieces. The staff was friendly and helpful. And I felt I was following the rules of REDUCE, REUSE, RECYCLE…plus I was earning a few bucks…

Today was a whole different story.
I went in to the store in the midst of a snow storm hoping to pick up a check and a few left over items. Unfortunately if you don’t pick up your clothes by the “due” date the store keeps them and thus your money as well. The lady at the counter was once friendly to me…a mere month ago…not so today. There was a nineteen-year-old prego worker looking over some new items to put on the store floor and a few women wandering around. I was informed that my items “expire” on this coming Wed. Since I’ll be busy, I decided to pick up all thirteen of my remaining clothing pieces. How it works is the store prints off a list of my clothes and I have to go find them in the tidal wave of clothes double-and-triple-Oreo-style-stuffed onto poorly labeled racks.

List printed, I set off. Located my first item immediately. The jeans were easy to spot. I was semi surprised they were still in the store. How many pairs of Levi’s were sold as my barely-worn-CK jeans stood by and watched? Looked at my list again and set off toward the shirts. I was looking through the XS/S section for what seemed like years and was having a ridiculously hard time finding any of my items. Finally I spotted an Ann Taylor Loft shirt. Really? No one wanted it? Probably because it was stuck next to a ratty, faded, old A&F polo circa 2001 flanked by a Banana Republic tee with the words “Banana Republic” on the front – immediately declaring that it was an old shirt. Poor three-year-old-in-perfect-condition Ann Taylor Loft shirt.

After this point, I was stuck. I couldn’t find anything. I somehow managed to locate two other adorable Ann Taylor shirts – again hardly worn and purchased brand new from the store in May 2009! Seriously? Might have been due to the fact that a crappy, lost it’s shape J.Jill shirt was brushing against it. Again I found myself stuck like my wonderful clothes, frustrated, and trying to balance mittens, a purse, clothes, and a list of the rest of my items. I kept pushing through the racks and found a Roxy shirt. The scraping sound of metal hangers on the rack was grating on my nerves harder than an Olive Garden waitress grating Parmesan cheese over a plate of Ravioli.

Enough was enough.
I walked up to the prego worker who was droning on and on about someone telling her she looked old (hardly). I informed her that I was having a difficult time locating the remaining three items and she just said “Oh, well you’re supposed to look yourself.” I firmly and most likely impatiently told her ” I AM!” She went on to say, “Yeah, we used to help people look for their items, but not anymore.” Thought scrolling across my mind like the ESPN score scroll was “Final score: Customer service 0 – customer satisfaction – 0.” I kept my thoughts to myself and said “This one sweater says it was purchased and returned, is it not on the floor?”
“It should be” came her response. Helpful, right?
Fine. I was done talking to her. I walked away and finished looking through the clothes. Sadly, I have NO clue where the Karen Kane sweater is in the store. Who knows if it was even there. *Tear*

1 WHOLE HOUR! I spent an hour of my life locating a whopping 12 – should have been 13 – items. I definitely didn’t feel like picking up my $4.50 cents from whatever shirt was lucky enough to outshine the faded Old Navy pit-stained t-shirts.

Patience worn to the bone, I left with a bag full of rejected clothes, threw them in my car and hit the grocery store.

Today my style was officially TURNED OFF.


One thought on “Turned my style OFF

  1. Pingback: One year. | Megan Nyberg's Meditations

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