But if you happen to have 3 cents in your pocket, I do know one thing you can buy—a plastic bag to carry your €89.99 boots in.
Because, you see, after spending €89.99 on a pair of boots (which is cheap for a lot of people but is kind of a big deal for me because I rarely buy clothes or shoes—have you seen the size of my closet?), you'd think they could just throw in the bag.
The first time I bought shoes at that place I bought two pairs. The lady asked, "Would you like blah blah blah?" in a tone that suggested I would NOT like "blah blah blah." Rather than ask her to repeat herself, like a normal person would, I just replied, "No."
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| These boots were made for walkin', but first you have to get them home |
As she pushed the two boxes across the counter and handed me my receipt, I realized she had asked if I wanted a bag. Whoops. Also, how annoying was that? Of COURSE I wanted a bag. Did she think I wanted to carry two clunky shoe boxes down the street?
When I returned to the store a few months later and bought my boots, I was ready when she asked the question. "Yes!" I proudly proclaimed. I wasn't going to struggle with boxes down the street, no sirree! I was getting a bag! You hear me, people? A plastic SACK. Spread the word!
The salesgirl stuffed the receipt and box in the sack and I was on my merry way. When I got home and extricated my new shoes from their fancy (it wasn't fancy) plastic bag, I noticed the price on the receipt: €90.02.
Seriously?
You're gonna charge me 3 cents for a bag when I'm already paying 90 euros? There was no way to wrap the cost of the bag into the overhead of the store? It's not like I mind paying 3 cents—it's literally pocket change—it's just the principle of charging for something that should be free.
I'm surprised they didn't charge me for the shoe box.