All in The Name of Beauty

I don't like salespeople. Let me be more specific, I don't like rude or pushy salespeople. It makes me very uncomfortable walking into a store and having people follow me around, watching my every move. I usually don't need any help, I'm fairly confident that I know what I like and need. But what's worse than department store salespeople are make-up counter salespeople. I loathe walking by them. Most of them here look like they've walked right out of a White Snake VH1 music video with the plastered makeup, Aquanet laden hairdos, and clothes that scream I'm too short, too tight, too trampy.

Matt finds it ironic that I don't like salespeople, considering I spent most of my adult life working in sales. In my previous life before kids, I used to be a pretty darn good salesperson - winning multiple awards, trips, and large electronic items (which are all in storage in Maryland), though I digress...

This morning I took a break from the pre-pack out organization that I've been doing all week, and went to the mall. They have a MAC store here and I needed to pick up one quick item: a pressed powder, though that proved a little more difficult than I had expected. Here's how the irritating conversation went down:

Me: I'd like a pressed powder please.

MAC lady: Which one do you want? Matte? Shimmer? Sheer? Bronze? Blot Pressed? Iridescent? Mineralized? Sculpt and Shape?

Me: Uhhhhhhh (I then go searching through my mom purse to find my make-up case with my old MAC pressed powder in it). I'd like a StudioFix NC35 please

MAC lady: You don't want that one.

Me: Yes I would. That's the one I'd like.

MAC lady: Are you sure?

Me: (Getting agitated) Yes (said with teeth gritted), I'm very sure. NC 35 please.

MAC lady: Well fine, but it can't be for you.

Me: Really? Look at my face and tell me it's not for me.

I was peeved. I needed 2 minutes in the store. I didn't need commentary about what I was purchasing. I didn't need advice. I frankly didn't need any more help than for her to pull out the make-up from behind the counter and ring me up. I've been wearing this for several years - it's my favorite cover up. It IS the right shade for my skin tone, thank you very much.

What got my goat today was that this saleslady, the one who told me that I'm wearing the wrong shade, clearly hadn't bothered to look in the mirror herself. Her face was painted white like Dita Von Teese. She had thick blue eye liner on both the top and bottom lids, cream eye shadow, no lipstick, and had used so much mascara that her eyes looked like mini tarantulas. A brush through her oily hair would have been nice too. But who am I to say? I'm just the customer with the wrong colored pressed powder.

I don't think I'll be venturing out shopping too much more before we leave. Vacuuming the floor, washing the dishes, and scrubbing the toilets are a little more relaxing than getting chastised in a make-up store. Oh yeah, did I mention recently how much I miss Swan?

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