How to Get Banned from Macy's

I don't know how I always manage to let Rachel talk me into things. But somehow it never seems to take much convincin'. She has a way about her, I guess you could say that makes you just want to agree with just about everything she says.

So it's the weekend of Black Friday – I absolutely refused to come on the actual day of – and we are at the mall of all places in the entire world we could possibly be. The parkin' lot is so full we had to park in friggin' Bangladesh and hike up the Appalachian friggin' trail to get to our destination – the Macy's.

It wasn't long before Rachel was stuck to the counter of a shiny glass case, starin' down at the sparklin' diamonds and sapphires twinklin' back at her. You could practically hear them singin' her name. Or I'm sure she could anyhow.

“Miss!” she called, wavin' at a sales clerk. A slightly heavy set woman wearin' too much make-up and too much hairspray bustled over to assist her, but without the happy smile typical of a commission-earner about to make a big sale.

As though we were a complete waste of her time, she quickly sighed and spat, “Can I help you?”

I already didn't like her. She just rubbed me the wrong way. I didn't like her attitude. That “I work in a fancy store so I'm better than you,” attitude.

“I don't know, can you?” I asked.

“Not now,” Rachel said shushin' me. Normally she would have jumped all over the invitation to have the “can you, may you” debate, but the rush of the holiday shoppin' madness was beginnin' to infect her as well.

“I'd like to see that necklace, please,” she asked the lady ever-so-sweetly, pointin' at the necklace with her finger pressed upon the glass.

I saw the quick cut of her eye, heard the tiny sigh, before she reached for her keys to open the door. I leaned over on the glass, pressin' both my forearms along the top of the counter.

She sighed again.

As though I was suddenly overcome with curiosity at what I was sure was a completely over-priced set of earrings only my great-grandmother would wear, I went to lean in even further over the counter, rubbin' my arms along the surface as I reached.

A perfume bottle nearly fell over as I stretched my arm for the earrings from the twirlin' tower. I quickly set it right, nudgin' it over a hair, then grabbed the earrings. As soon as the necklace was laid down in front of Rachel, the woman reached over and nudged the perfume bottle back into “place," glarin' at the fresh smudge marks at the same time.

I don't know if it was a bad day or what, but she apparently didn't know how much Rachel liked to shop. If she were smart, she'd have been a little more invested in our needs. Well, Rachel's needs, but whatever.

So I nudged the bottle over again.

The woman gave me one of those looks that asks, “Really?” and moved it again to its proper location.

I, of course, reached over to move it again, the but she beat me to the bottle, placin' her hand over the lid, and huffin' “Would you please?”

“Please?” I queried back as though I didn't know what she were about to ask of me. Man I was feelin' catty! I must really, really not like this woman, I thought.

“Jeaux stop it,” Rachel jumped in, “I'm sorry. I'll take this by the way, thank you, and...”

“Okay, I'll get you at this register over here,” the sales clerk interjected. But, Rachel hadn't been finished. Now...there was my girl...she was gettin' irritated.

By the time Rachel was finished makin' her purchase, a solid sale for the woman she had to admit, I had been fulfillin' my time by swappin' the earrings and bracelets and pins in the little trays beside the register.

She'd just love that.

“If, you're done, thank you ladies and have a good day,” she said with a horrifically fake smile.

Hah. We'll just see about that, I thought. Jeez...what was wrong with me today? Was I experiencin' some kind of sick shoppin' rebellion or what?

Rachel was too jazzed about her new jewelry set to pay me much mind and had forgotten all about her irritation in her moment of shoppin' bliss. We turned to go and I nearly ran right into a set of those three-tiered towers holdin' folded sweaters and a new arrivals.

I stopped and grabbed one of the sweaters on the top of the tower, and glanced to see the woman watchin' me as she hurriedly tried to fix the mess I'd made of her trays.

I couldn't help myself. Without takin' so much as a three-second look at the sweater, I lifted it up just enough to completely undo the folds and tossed it back down in a heap.

As we turned the corner of the path circlin' the floor of the store, I saw her again rushin' over to fix what I'd done. And by the look of her flushed cheeks and squinty eyes, I'd say she was mad.

And then, as though I'd been suddenly thrown into a WWE wrestlin' ring, I was bein' basically attacked by the shoppers already so infected with the sickness their will to remember their humanity had vanished. Somewhere, I assumed right along with the money in their wallets.

So I decided to stop fightin' it and started grabbin' at shirts and jackets with a comparable frenzy...you know...like my life depended on their purchase, and that alone. I'm pretty sure this one lady would have been willin' to hit me in the face had I not let go of one suede coat when I did.

But this other lady! Oh my God she had it right! Screw tryin' to hold the clothes she wanted, she was wearin' them!

Rachel saw me lookin' at the beacon of shoppin' brillinace and commenced to followin' suit. Before long the three of us were dressed to the nines – or would you say tens? – in multiple layers of un-matchin' shirts and one particularly god-awful sweater for myself, that I had to wear for only one reason – it was too hilarious not to be worn; for I prayed it would be the only time it would see the light of day.

Even given the sensational mad-house that was wreakin' havoc on this side of the partition, the clerks were laughin' and helpin' and doin' their best to keep their peace between the lunatics, as they dodged from left to right like running-backs in haste to their posts.


Maybe that other lady was just a scrooge.

Rachel was tuggin' me on my sleeve around another row of racks when I saw her again. This time, the scrooge was helpin' another customer, the Luis Vitton bag on this woman's arm so shiny I wondered if it still had the brown paper paddin' inside.

And whaddya know? Scrooge was all smiles. From ear to ear, and lookin' genuine as hell too. Well that really rubbed me the wrong way.

Slinkin' over like a cat-burglar duckin' behind one tower and jumpin' to hide behind the next, I made my way back to her counter. Rachel was lost to me by now. I was on my own.

“Oh yes ma'am,” I heard her coo, “that would look absolutely divine on you! You know, I think we have a whole matching set to go along with it, if you have the time let's get you all dolled up and see what it looks like hmm?”

Well, wasn't she just the perfect little helper?

As she was too focused on her upcomin' sale to notice me behind her, I took immediate advantage of my window of opportunity.

Wrappin' my arms around one of the earring towers from the counter, I lifted it and put it on the other end. A few earrings fell off the hooks, sure. Then, I transferred the watch rack and placed its velvet case where the earring tower had been. No harm done there. Then, I tip-toed back behind another rack of panty-hose and waited for her to walk around to my side of the counter.

Finally, she came around. And luckily, nobody noticed me skulkin' around behind the panty-hose like I were tryin' (poorly at that) to sneak a five-finger discount or something.

It took her a minute to notice, but seein' an earring out of place on the counter, she picked it up and went to hang it in it's place, only to find, it's place was no longer in it's usual place. Ha ha!

Her face was priceless. She looked confused. Then, actually shook her head as though she were tryin' to remember if her memory were servin' her right or if somebody was messin' with her. She seemed to notice the swap, and I was pretty sure she was on to me, when I peeked my head over the partition just a little too high.

“I see you over there! You leave my counter alone before I call security! I mean it!”

The laughter finally sputtered forth (I'm pretty sure I actually spit on a few scarves, woops) then and I came tumblin' out of my hidin' place and ran back to find Rachel. I nearly passed her, as she had come to find me as well, but had stopped to smell some perfume selections.

I smiled, a little out of breath, and she did too. “Having fun?” she asked, knowin' me well enough to take a quick glance behind me in search of security guards or somethin'.

“Always,” I said.

She was smellin' a particularly dainty lookin' bottle of women's perfume, one that looked like a glass flower, the stem of the bottle the stem of the flower, and it's lid the petals. I was pretty sure if I held it I'd break it.

A line of women streamed into the store just then, and as we were very near the entrance, we were soon bein' pushed and brushed aside by their bouncin' shoppin' bags, purses, and big asses.

Rachel curled her nose at their inconsideration and turned to catch the last lady in the line-up with a hefty dose of the floral smellin' perfume in her hands.

“Hi! Welcome to Macy's!” she said in a high-pitched sing-song voice. If you didn't notice her own shoppin' bags in her arms, you'd have been sure she worked there.

“Hi! Welcome to Macy's!” she chimed again, squirtin' another surprised customer. I had to smile. The infection was startin' to subside (probably with the amount of money in her bank account). She had started a little game with herself.

I wanted to play.

So, dainty or not, I grabbed another bottle of the perfume and stood a few feet to the side of Rachel. She caught those comin' from one side, and I got the other. At first it was just a few ladies. Then a couple kids. Then even boys and men were fair game, as we knew our game would soon be cut short.

The whispers questionin' our authority as Macy's Perfume Spray Girls had been heard already.

“There! That's them! That's the girl!”

Dammit! Scrooge! I heard her shrill, I'm better than you-and-you-and-you voice, and knew it was time to go!

“Rachel! It's about that time,” I said puttin' the perfume bottle back on the table and gesturin' for the door. But the bottle fell to the floor - the fragile lid breakin' and sendin' shards of glass in all directions. Damn!

Lookin' towards the sound of the voices, I saw a tall, hefty security guard barrellin' towards us. Suddenly, I felt like a criminal. I was scared like a kid.

“Come on Rach, go time, now!” I said runnin' for the open doorway leadin' to the mall. But, as though in one final act of rebellion, (scared or not) I grabbed a purse and hat from one table, and ran to another, puttin' them down and pickin' up a pair of jeans and a shirt. Then I ran those to the next table and made another swap. I was apparently on a mission to mis-match Macy's right out the door, and I was laughin' like a crazed hyena the whole way.

“Jeaux, wait!” I heard Rachel shout, but I was too busy and quickly makin' my way out the door. In the open spaces of the mall's central court, I stopped to wait for her.

That's when I turned to see Rachel in the doorway, takin' off the shirts she had layered over herself, because...once you passed the store's doors, it was stealing.

The sales-clerk was now beside her with a crooked grin. But the security guard was still comin' toward me, pointin' at the ridiculous sweater I was still wearin'...had totally forgot about...and had never paid for.

Shit...