So my friend and I planned a day of stuffing our faces followed by furniture shopping.
Because who doesn’t wanna test out La-Z-Boys and pillow top mattresses after they’ve eaten enough food to nourish a small town for the winter?
While having lunch at our favorite Thai place we started talking about the down side of furniture shopping. You know the drill. You need a new couch and all you want to do is look at the couches in peace, but the second you walk through the door someone is all up in your grill wanting to know everything about you including but no way in hell limited to your name, so social security number, the first day of your last period, and whether your last bowel movement was a squishy or a solid. Then they want a photo of you from all angles like a mugshot. Then they want a fingerprint and a blood sample. And last time I was there I’m pretty sure someone pulled out a few of my hairs while I bent over to look at the cleaning instructions on a love seat.
They do all of this so that if you don’t buy anything they can track you down and harass you until you do. And if you still won’t be talked into taking advantage of the Memorial Day Sales Event, they will kill a hobo ON that love seat and plant all of your DNA in between the cushions so they can frame you for the murder. Then, as you’re being dragged off to jail, they’ll be all “You shoulda bought the fucking love seat! IT WAS 20% OFF WITH ZERO PERCENT FINANCING FOR 2 YEARS, YOU CHEAP ASSHOLE!”
And we were talking about this loudly and laughing all through lunch.
After we finished eating we went to the furniture store and of course it was all BOOM POUNCE and we were cornered by some clipboard lady the minute we walked in. Since we were more than prepared for this brazen attack we remained calm, refrained from giving out information, and simp;y said “We’ll look for you if we have any questions or wish to make a purchase. THANKYOUBYE!”
And we hurried off.
But we weren’t alone.
It didn’t take long for us to notice that the saleswoman was about 10 feet behind us.
We were being stalked.
Every time we even contemplated sitting on anything BOOM there she was to tell us about the density of the stuffing, the hand turned legs, the stain resistance of the fabric, and the fact that it granted wishes and made your boobs grow.
Each time this happened, we would smile as politely as possible and quickly wander off again until we’d thought that for sure we’d lost her, then BOOM, there she was with a velveteen swatch and a urinalysis test.
Eventually we decided to head upstairs and start working our way through the maze of fake rooms thinking that it would be harder for her to find us in there. After about 10 winding minutes, we were finally pretty sure she was gone, but the minute my ass was about to hit a sectional cushion BOOM outta nowhere I hear “It’s microfiber and is super resistant to stains! Except for the blood of the hobo I’m gonna kill and pin on you if you don’t buy it.”
Okay. Maybe she didn’t say that last part out loud, but I’m sure she was thinking it.
After that last ambush we got a bit more brazen in our escape attempts. Politeness was out the window and we just refrained from making eye contact, pretended she wasn’t there, and quickly strolled off. After we rounded a corner I checked back to see if she’d finally given up, but she was walking towards us even faster than before. We ran around another corner and I tried to hide in an armoire, but my freakishly long limbs kept me from being able to close the doors. Although I briefly considered amputating my legs just to avoid Clipboard Lady, I decided that she still would have found me.
Yeah, the blood and random legs lying on the floor outside of the armoire MIGHT have been a giveaway, but still.
This woman was the Liam Neeson of furniture store employees.
She has a particular set of skills and she will look for you and find you and make you order an entire Pretty Pretty Princess Bedroom Set even though you don’t even have a daughter.
Plus, there’s no way that my friend and I could find a hiding place large enough to fit us both, and I was not about to leave her alone to get talked into buying a full line of furnishings for that Men’s Cigar Lounge that she’s always never wanted.
If I HAD left her some major guilt woulda kicked in and I’d have to return to perform some sort of Saving Private Ryan scenario.
There’s no way I could have lived with myself if I knew she had bought 10,000 sf of furnishings for her 3,000 sf house and used her daughter’s college savings to pay for it.
“No University for you, sweetheart. Mommy had to get her some antique, gold leaf, nesting, end tables. And yes, we only ever use the top one because the other ones are hidden underneath it, but it’s always nice to know that there are two more under there for no reason. Who the f@ck needs 3 end tables when they only use one? BUT PATTI LEFT ME WITH THE LADY LIAM NEESON AND WTF WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO?”
THEY’RE FREAKING STACKABLE!
So I made a pact with my friend: We get out of here together or not at all. If you get dragged into the fabric swatch room, then I go with you. Even though I’m pretty freaking sure that at least half of the fabrics in the fabric swatch room are made out of the skin of people who refused to buy the Sunny Day Patio Set, I will risk being turned into an ottoman for the sake of our friendship. And yes, I could only be turned into an ottoman. An especially small one for children, because I’m so dainty. You can become the extra deep sofa for a family of 5. And I know that sounds bitchy, but if I’m giving up my freedom for you then I have the right to be bitchy. That is part of the Friendship Furniture Store Pact.
We pumped ourselves up, focused on the front of the store, and made a beeline for the exit.
“Wait! I have a card for you to fill out so that we can tell you about upcoming sales!”
Walk faster! Walk faster! Walk faster!
And we made it through the doors to the outside world.
As the fresh air of freedom blew through our hair, we rejoiced in the fact that we’d not only made it out alive, but also without applying for a store credit card with an interest rate of 99.9% and the promise to acquire the soul of your first born child.
Feeling pretty freaking fantastic that we’d accomplished a non-Shawshanky type of escape (i.e. crawling through sewer poop), we high fived and strolled confidentially towards the car.
“Hey! Weren’t you guys just at the Thai place?”
We slowly turned to see who was asking.
“I was sitting at the table right next to you and I heard your conversation about coming here. I actually work here! Are you heading inside? Do you need any help? We’re having a sale on all upholstered furniture until 31st!”
That’s what her mouth said. But her eyes said “I heard everything you said about me and my co-workers and there’s no way in hell you’re getting out of here alive or at least without buying our entire collection of plaid couches! THE REALLY SCRATCHY KIND!”
I grabbed my friend’s hand and we ran for my car, jumped in, locked the doors, and put the pedal to the metal.
In my rearview mirror I could swear I caught a glimpse of her taking a photo of my license plate and then bending over to pick up a piece of hair or a fiber from my jacket or something.
I know that it’s only a matter of time before they track me down.
Some day, when I’ve finally relaxed and let my guard down, my phone will ring. I will answer and hear the following:
“If you buy the Reclining Rec Room Extra Plush Sectional now, that’ll be the end of it. I will not look for you. I will not pursue you. But if you don’t, I will look for you, I will find you, and I will use your skin to upholster a 12 Seat Lazy Leather Living Room Set. Yes, the 12 seater. I saw how much you ate at that Thai place, you gluttonous bitch.”