I went to Sephora at lunch today, to buy many things that I don’t need. This often happens at the tail end of winter, when I’m feeling as pasty and vitamin deficient as I will all year. I wind up buying a hundred dollars worth of sugar scrubs and sparkle lotions, trying to wake up my face.
So OK. All well and good. Here’s the real problem: The women at Sephora, the salespeople, will not leave you alone.
In my 20 minute trip through the store, no fewer than SIX different women asked me if I needed anything. One of them asked me three times. Through an effort of will, I managed to keep repeating, through gritted teeth, “I’m fine, thanks.”
What I really wanted to say was: “Look, I’m trying to figure out if I need a $70 microdermabrasion kit. So can you just fuck off?”