Size up a store before you even enter it. In some ways, shopping in a store is like doing battle and the battles on their turf. Be armed with a shopping cart. It shows you mean business.
Fall in love with the item, then check out the price tag. By this point it’ll be too difficult to part with, like a limb or a family member. It’s yours now. Ka-ching.
Or (conversely) don’t even look at what you’re buying. Grab every shirt in fall jewel tones and toss it into the cart as you careen through the store barely missing displays and fellow customers.
When it comes to the fitting rooms, you treat them as though your personal maid will come by later. The cherry on top of the sundae is leaving behind a couple of used tissues or a footprint besmirching an otherwise light peach colored dress.
Complain to the manager when they don’t have your size. Complain to the manager when the right size still doesn’t look good on you. Complain to the manager if it’s not in the right color. Complain to the manager if you had any suspicions it was made in a sweatshop. Complain to the manager if it costs too much.
Talk on the phone when you are waiting on line to pay. Very loudly. About colonoscopies (some people just blog about them. Like me), and tacky mothers in laws. About how it is ridiculous how you can’t wear white to a wedding and can you believe your sister is pregnant again?
When you get to the register, gather up six or seven cheap trinkets to finish off your shopping spree. The less important the better.
Challenge the cashier on every single charge. Can she give you a discount? A coupon? Frequent flier miles? A rewards membership that will save you twenty dollars?
Waltz out the door with 27 shopping bags, feeling like a million bucks. Sit in your car and let the buyer’s remorse consume you.
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