The Tale of Two Malls

When I had agreed to go shopping with her for the first time, I had barely known her. I met her through my husband when they had started working together. She mentioned to him that she never has anyone to shop with and my husband had mentioned that I often had lamented similarly. He suggested we go to together and that would help us get to know each other better.

I was no stranger to the mall, in fact, it was like a second home to me at that point in my life. I worked two jobs there and basically ate all my meals in the food court. I knew the sounds of the halls early in the morning when none of the shops were open and the only people in the building were employees or the gray hairs that speed walked before getting breakfast. I knew the darkness of the building after closing, the eerie quiet of the unoccupied stores, and the set up and takedown times of all the seasonal displays.

My intricate knowledge of the mall was no match for Estie. I was like a lamb to the slaughter when we met that first time to shop together.

I had just gotten off work and was wearing my short sleeved graphic tee from the Back to School collection, denim shorts, and Converse shoes. Through the course of my shift my hair had may its way into an intentional looking messy bun. I looked on brand and approachable; exactly how you want a store employee to look who is selling graphic tees and jeans to 16-30 year olds.

She came waltzing through the automatic doors like she was stepping into a private photo shoot. She was in high end denim, full face of makeup, hair perfectly flat ironed, and strappy wedges. Who wears high heels to the walk around the mall? She came up and gave me a hug. She felt ten feet tall in those shoes, but I could have sworn she was quite a bit shorter than me.

She stepped back and looked at me. The look on her face said it all; I was not a suitable shopping companion. She was disappointed.

We started walking and making small talk. I suddenly realized that she was passing all the stores that I normally stop in. She was blazing ahead, talking about herself. As she went on, it became very clear to me that we were heading to the part of the mall that I never, ever shop at and the only part of the mall she shopped at. She had been slumming it to come pick me up on my side of the mall.

We walked into a shoe store that had big red "SALE" signs. I glanced at a sale tag and it was more than the total of every shoe I had ever purchased in my entire life. She was so pleased at the price reduction and asked the associate to try it on in three different colors.

"Do you ever wear shoes like these?" She asked as if she was showing me what shoes were for the first time.

"Not really, because I just wouldn’t really have anywhere to wear them to, you know? I can’t wear them to work …”, she interrupted me.

"Doesn't Jordan take you out on dates?"

"He does, but those are still a little too fancy for the likes of Olive Garden I think." I chuckled a little and realized that she didn't think it was funny.

"Olive Garden is fancy?" This was obviously rhetorical. I was starting to stress sweat. She was way out of my league. How could my husband think this was going to work out? This was going terribly.

The sales associate came back and gave Estie the shoes to try on. I thought of running away, back to the side of the mall that I was comfortable in. Maybe hide from her under a pile of reasonably priced hoodies. Get a pretzel along the way. She might not even realize I was gone.

Just as a I was inching to the door, Estie decided not to take any of the shoes because they made her feet look big and she left the shoes on the ground, box open, tissue paper strung about. As a retail employee, this made my blood boil. She obviously has never had to clean up after anyone like her before and it showed.

"Let's go get something to eat" she said as she grabbed my arm to interlock with hers. I was confused and stumbled next to her. I gave the sales associate that look of “I’m so sorry, I know what this is like” as she bent down to pick up the mess left behind.

We went to the food court, neutral territory.

We sat down and as we chatted over teriyaki chicken and egg rolls, she told me how cute I was but that I needed a serious makeover, of which she would be delighted to administer. The next stop would be the makeup store that I never, ever go in followed by trying on clothes that my husband would never, ever let me spend the money on. If this backfired and bankrupted us, I would blame him for recommending this little bonding activity in the first place.

I wasn’t a shopping companion anymore, as I deemed unworthy. Now, I had become her project. A fixer upper friend.