I Got A Story to Tell: Why Jerry is Terrified of Going To The Mall
I have never been a big shopper. 99.9% of my funds go towards drinking beer and eating food so I don’t die. I don’t think I actually stepped foot into a dressing room to try on clothes until I was over the age of 21. Basically playing Russian roulette with jean sizes and hoping all my shirts fit somewhat correctly. That being said, I rarely go to the mall, but when I do…it has always been a terrifying experience. One particular event has scarred me and I don’t think I’ll be heading back anytime soon.
The day was February 14, 2016. Valentine’s Day. Now before you call me an idiot for going to the mall on Valentine’s Day, just stop. I know I’m an idiot. This has been proven time and time again throughout my life and with some of the questionable decisions I make on a daily basis.
It started out normal. The mall had pretty much just opened and there were not many people walking around yet. As I was minding my own business, a young lady posted in front of a lotion store locked eyes with me, and it was at this point I knew I was fucked. She said “hello” and next thing I know she’s trying to sell me some weird stuff.
She’s foreign and hot so I’m only understanding/registering about 20% of what she’s saying. Our conversation went as such:
Her: “Do you have a girlfriend for present?”
Me: Uhh, yeah.
Her: “You have girlfriend and haven’t bought her present yet?!?”
Me: Uhh, no.
Big kicker here: I didn’t have a girlfriend, not even an imaginary one. So, I then spent the next hour, a FULL hour, inside of this lotion store, with a strange foreign woman critiquing my dry skin, washing my hands, and chastising me about not buying my fake girlfriend a nice present. I literally had to create a girlfriend. I fucking Manti Te’o’d myself.
At this point I had completely forgotten why I had come to mall. It also didn’t matter, I just had to get the fuck out of there. As I finally make my exit and head back to my car, narrowly escaping without buying a $200 supreme Maybelline pack, I have a kiosk person smile and attempt to hand me something. I politely decline, but she insists. I’m a nice person and I hate being rude, so I just grab it, which then allows her enough time to give me her sales pitch. I should have just kept walking.
I look at what she handed me. It’s the SAME FUCKING LOTION FROM THE STORE I HAD JUST LEFT. I am now panicking and looking around for any escape. Then, like an apparition from the god damn clouds, came the lady from the first store. It was over. My grave, as deep as the Mariana Trench, had been officially dug. I caved. I purchased $30 worth of lotion for my fake girlfriend and left the mall. Haven’t been back since.