REI: You Suck and I'm Going to Tell Everyone

here was a time, many months ago, when my fried KP and I encountered what we then believed to be The Worst Retail Salesperson Ever.

After several hours of pillaging through racks of dresses at Neiman Marcus, KP found a Cynthia Vincent black strapless dress which was suitable for wear to a dance we had agreed to attend with one of my numerous gay exboyfriends + his black toothed friend. We carried the garment to the counter for purchase and were quickly informed that "we accept American Express, Diner's Club, and Neiman Marcus cards."

Given my horribly bad credit, I gave up then and there. KP, the pillar of good credit and responsibility, was not to be deterred. 15 minutes later, she stared indignantly at an attractive Italian salesman who quietly informed her that she had been rejected. I secretly believe KP failed to meet the "snobby bitch" requirement for obtaining Neiman's line of credit, but recognize it's also likely that no matter how good KP's credit could be, she was also a law student with 80K+ in loans.

At the time, it didn't matter. All I knew was that KP found her dream dress, she deserved her dream dress, and if she didn't get her dream dress, somebody was gonna hear about it from me. I marched myself to customer service where I lied earnestly through clenched teeth, informing the short pudgy Neiman representative that he and his store had lost a lifetime of business from a soon-to-be Successful Wealthy Well-Dressed Attorney (I was referring to myself-- which is why this claim was a big fat lie. Not only do I have no intentions of boycotting Neiman Marcus, it's also highly unlikely that I ever be a Successful Wealthy anything).

He turned his little pig nose up in my face, cross his chubby little arms across his chest and recited "this is the direction our company wishes to take." Fire brims in my soul to this day.

So until yesterday, Neiman Marcus had earned, in my book, the Worst Retail Salesperson Ever award, narrowly defeating only the salesman at Marshall Fields who once suggested to me that I check the men's section for shoes. Bastard.

Anyway, yesterday my boyfriend and I drove on a congested highway away from urban civilization in pursuit of the highly acclaimed REI store. A self-admitted prissy girl, I had never set foot inside any sort of mountain-y earth-people store and did so yesterday only because my boyfriend and I made a deal. I go camping next week-- he votes democratic in the next election. We need mountain-y earth people gear to go camping, so it seemed only appropriate that we visit a mountain-y earth people store to purchase said gear.

Despite my unyielding reluctance to dip my perfectly pedicured toes into the cold unwelcoming lake of mountain-y earth people clothing, I did attend REI yesterday with some anticipation. My childhood best friend Synthia is a mountain-y earth woman, and her wardrobe is extremely cool and urban chic. From her sleek black north face fleece to her cosmopolitan 'i' am a earth woman, i just happen to also look cool' smith aviator glasses,' Synthia epitomizes the earth-friendly fashion, In fact, Synthia is and has always been the best dressed girl on the face of the earth-- in my eyes, and the idea of drinking from the same well as she was appealing. She had always spoken of REI as if it were like an organic Barney's, where every overpriced piece was made by well paid americans out of synthetic fabric. As you know, I do not believe in polyester, but I was willing to check it out nonetheless.

...fuck. see, i spent all this time building up and now i'm out of study break minutes. which means you are all (ahem, all 2 of you) going to have to wait a day till i finish my REI bashing story. In the meantime, stay away from that cold tacky building lest you purchase an item without directions, without a price tag and without a single fucking human employed by REI who can tell you what it's supposed to do.