How NOT to buy lingerie.

I went to Gordman's (favorite store in the world... before this) a few days ago to do some final Christmas shopping. I didn't expect to find that their lingerie section was freaking awesome, with all kinds of cute and/or sexy outfits to choose from. They even had a whole 2 racks devoted to Plus-Size Lingerie. Yeah, that's right. I'm freakin Plus-Size, okay? Make with the fat jokes already.

Okay, ANYway. I picked out a really nice two-piece thingie-ma-bob. You know, the confusing strappy bra/cami top piece with matching bottoms. I wanted to make sure the top would fit, so I went to try it on in the dressing room. I took one set that had a 38C top, and one set that was a 42C top. I'm actually a 40C on top, though I have been known to fluctuate depending on the brands/stores/style/etc.

Like all girls are aware, especially us busty-girls (and many guys are completely clueless to this fact): There just is no standard for sizing in the fashion world. You absolutely must try things on, or be a geek (confession: I do this often) and take exact measurements before buying.

So anyway, the 42C top ended up fitting well.

I should have paid more attention to the bottoms though, which I realize is my own damn fault, because if I would have switched the 38C's bottoms with the 42C's bottoms, I would have had no trouble. However, I spaced it out and didn't even look at the sizes of the bottoms.

Never assume you're normally-shaped. That's my fault, I get it. I get it!!

Well, I get it home and see the tag on the bottoms, and it's 2 sizes bigger than what I know is my usual size. Well, maybe the sizes are just different like that, I think, since sizes always vary depending on the brand. So I unfold them and hold them up, and they are noticeably way too freaking big. Like, they would have literally fallen off of my ass. And that's not particularly sexy.

I know there's lots of chicks out there that have large bums (why surely, since Sir Mix-A-Lot wrote an entire song on this topic), but apparently I'm horrifically misshapen, in that my bust is twice the size of my ass, according to this department store. Because I needed at least 2 sizes smaller.

I told Nadine about all this, and she says, "Just go back there and switch them. It's no big deal."

Me: "I think I can just do that through customer service."

Nadine: "Yeah, but they won't let you. It's a hygiene issue. You know, just in case you're a nasty."

Me: "Oh, okay. But I didn't even try them on."

Okay, I get that it's a hygiene issue. Believe me, I am glad for this policy. And I get they don't wanna take my word on it, because obviously any kind of person could be lying about it. Okay, I get that. However, I should have just gone and switched them myself, because what happened when I went through customer service was A Christmas Nightmare.

I stand in a very long line to get to one of two nasally little skinny-bitches working at the customer service station in the front of the store. It's finally my turn and I pull the lingerie set out of my Gordman's bag and say, "I need to exchange part of this outfit because it's too big."

She says, "Okay, leave your bag here and do your shopping, and come back when you have your items." Okay, cool. I go back to the rack and take a pair of bottoms in the correct size and bring it back.

Once again... a very long line I have to wait in to talk to the same snooty little girl. I get to the line and show her the correct pair of bottoms and say, "Okay, here is what I needed to exchange."

Bitchy McSnootFace, scrunching her face in mild disgust: Ohhh yeahhhh, you can't do that.

Me: Okay. But you just told me to go get these so I could exchange them.

Bitchy McSnootFace: Uhm, yeahhhh... I thought you meant something else.

Me, thinking: are you stupid, woman? what else could I have possibly meant!? I set them right in front of you and said "I need to exchange this"
Out loud, I say: Well, what can I do here then? Because I want to buy these bottoms. The other bottoms are 2 sizes too big.

Bitchy McSnootFace: Uhhhm, I don't know. But you can't exchange the bottoms.

Me: Okay, can I buy this pair of bottoms separately? Because I still want them.

Bitchy McSnootFace: No, that's a set. You have to buy the whole set.

Me: Okay, that's fine. Then charge me for the whole set, but I only need the bottoms. Because the top of the first set I bought fits fine.

Bitchy McSnootFace, looking exasperated (almost rolling her eyes): Okay, fine.

Me, thinking while I look at the countertop: Okay, please please stop being a bitch. I'm already embarrassed enough as it is being denied a lingerie exchange in front of an entire very long line of Christmas shoppers. I don't want to argue. I just want to pay whatever money it takes to get the hell out of here with what I intended to buy in the first place.

Bitchy McSnootFace: Where is the top for those bottoms you just brought up here?

Me, trying not to turn bright red and still acting very nice to her: I left the top on the rack because that isn't what I wanted to exchange. Sorry, I guess I should have brought it up.

Bitchy McSnootFace, talking to me like I'm 5 years old: Well, I can't ring up the panties without the top, because they're a set.

Bitchy McSnoot gets on her walkie-talkie, which announces things over the intercom of the store. She picks up the lingerie and holds it up high for everyone to see while she describes it in (poor) detail into the walkie-talkie.

Here is what she says:

"I need someone to go to the PLUS-SIZED lingerie racks to get the a Intimate Encounter brand lingerie top with a missing panty. The top is black see-through material with red ties over the... the boobs part."

I am effing serious folks, she said "boobs part". I wish it wasn't true. The dimwit doesn't know the word "chest" or "bust" or any other synonym that would be 10X more appropriate than "boobs part" being blared throughout the entire store.

Meanwhile, I am mortified. I am easily embarrassed, in case you didn't already know. I am also remarkably shy, and fairly reserved, especially when it comes to my private underthings! (Well, they're not private now. Since I'm blogging about them. And also all staff and holiday shoppers at Gordman's are now painfully aware of my lingerie choices.) So, this was practically torture to me. I stared deeper into the countertop and turn the reddest shade of red you'll ever see.

This nice lady who works the sales floor answers the page and comes up with the wrong set. It is a smaller set, but it's "not the right one" because it doesn't have bottoms with it. She has to go back and look again. Meanwhile, the line behind me is growing and Bitchy McSnoot gets on the intercom, with the most annoyed voice imaginable, and says, "Can I get another associate to help cover the customer service desk. We're really backed up here."

Oh my god. Let it end, please. Finally, the nice lady from the sales floor came back again with the correct top. Thank you, lord.

Bitchy McSnootFace did some number-punching on the cash register and then handed me a receipt. She flatly says, "Thank you for shopping at Gordman's" and then looks behind me as if to say, I'm done with you now, who's next in line?

Me, confused: Wait, I didn't give you my credit card to pay for the outfit. What did you pay for that with?

Bitchy McSnootFace, looking even more annoyed: What are you talking about? You wanted to exchange this, right?

Me, now starting to sound pissed: No. I said, the bottoms on this 1st set I bought are too big. Then I said I would have to buy this 2nd smaller set right now because YOU SAID they were a set and I could not purchase them separately.

Bitchy McStupid, gaining more attitude: Sooooo... you want to buy both these sets right now?

Me, not raising my voice at all, but clearly more pissed: I have already purchased THIS FIRST SET. Do you want to see my receipt? I already bought this first set. I need the second set in order to have an entire set that will fit correctly. I am only buying ONE set today. Not exchanging. Do you need to see my receipt from the first set? I have it r-

Bitchy McBitchSnoot, blinking vacantly at me through most of my re-explanation, finally cuts me off: Okay okay, I get it. No, I don't need to see the receipt.

Me: So, you were going to let me exchange this set, but I couldn't exchange just the bottoms? That makes no sense.

Bitchy McSnootFace: They're a SET, ma'am.

Me: Okay, whatever.
But I was thinking (afterwards, because on the spot I'm not even remotely clever or fast): Just because you decided to hang them together doesn't mean they're a set. They have separate tags, you freakin mean-ass, no-class snot. It's meant for people who are different shapes, as I apparently am, so they can get the correctly sized set. NOT ALL WOMEN are a size 0 twig with negative-AA cups and entirely no ass, you little jerkface. Normal women come in a variety of shapes, colors, and sizes. I know you can't grasp this concept because you and all your little size 0, assless friends have always jumped off the exact same bridges together, thus you would have no frigging idea what the rest of the world was like.

Bitchy McSnootFace finally gets me rung up correctly and I quickly leave the store with both of the lingerie sets, still horrifically embarrassed and bright red. So, now I have an extra pair of bottoms that are 2 sizes too big, and an extra top that is 2 sizes too small. I'm sure that anyone watching the whole ordeal was just confused as hell. I can hear them now: "Why does she want both sets? Is there just not enough fabric in one set to cover her enormous girth?" (okay, so most people aren't that bitchy, but you never know.)

This was by far the least professional salesperson I've ever had to deal with. Seriously. She could have displayed even the slightest amount of class or tact, but instead it was as if she were purposely trying to embarrass me. It felt like the horrors of high school all over again. I was back to being the nerdy, awkward teenaged girl being ridiculed by the tall, skinny, enormously popular cheerleader while a crowd of our peers watched me stare at the ground. (Okay, so it wasn't as bad as highschool, but the analogy does fit.)

Before you say, "You've obviously never worked retail, she was just doing her job" I must say SHUT YOUR FACE, because I have worked retail in the past and I still deal with customers and clients to this day. So I know proper etiquette, even if I never worked with anything as delicate as lingerie. There's a sense of class you need to have in order to deal with any customer.

And I wasn't even being a bitchy or difficult customer! I was agreeable and passive (even when I should have smacked her one) which is usually my favorite type of customer. Usually you don't go treating that type of agreeable customer like crap, or being rude and giving her attitude, and making her never want to come back.

Speaking of which, I really am never going back there. Ever. Thanks a lot, SnootFace.

I told The Boyfriend about all this later, and he said that I should call and complain to a manager about her lack of class and utter rudeness (since I do remember her real name from her nametag). Well, I'm just not that type of person, I guess. I don't like to make a fuss. I've worked retail, as I said, and I don't appreciate customers that make a fuss. Just deal with it. Working with customers sucks enough as it is, I don't want to be a complainer. Though she would deserve it.

So, I guess I'd rather blog about it. That's how I deal with it.