Today, I returned a shirt to Old Navy. I hate returning stuff. I always feel like I’m doing something wrong. Like shoplifting, but backwards.
This time, OldNavy.com sent me the same shirt twice and I couldn’t just keep the exact same shirt. It’d be a waste of $7.99. So, my cheapness trumped my fear of returning things.
So, there I was, walking in. I was all worried about getting caught (doing what, I don’t know). Like most people, worry makes me more prepared (in my old high school days, let’s just say I had a lot of legitimate reasons for being late).
I was all prepared, the best I knew how, for the dreaded return. I had the receipt, the shirt was still in the original plastic bag with tags on. Fool proof right? Should be a seamless transition.
I walked straight to the counter. (I was afraid if I chose my exchange first, they’d think I stole both shirts and somehow sealed one in a bag.)
I tell the cashier, “I bought this online and they sent me 2 of the same shirt.”
She looks at me, then at the bagged shirt, then back at me and says, “Hmm, you bought it online?” She put audible air quotes around “online” as if I were making up this “website.” Then she says, “Well, put the shirt and the receipt in this bag and find another shirt for the exchange.”
I’m like, “Ok. No big deal. Over there, right?” Great customer service lady.
She points me generally in the right direction and I turn that way. Then, I’m literally 10 steps away (which for me is well within hearing distance), and she says to her coworker, “Keep an eye on that lady, she has a bag.” I guess she thought I was going to stuff as many $7.99 shirts as I could into this bag and sneak out the door all-mission impossible style.
I breathe slowly. I walk as purposefully as possible. Not seeming like a nervous shoplifter. Not suspicious. Just a normal customer shopping at Old Navy.
I get to the clearance section. “Ma’am, can I help you find something?” The chipper teen says with a quivering lip. I act like I don’t notice and ask for a price check. I felt like she thought I was trying to throw her off my scent because this was the quickest price check I’d ever witnessed.
I grabbed another shirt to prove I was a normal, money-having, not shoplifting customer and paid for both shirts at the front. Same cashier (I did that on purpose). Overly nice, she says, “This is such a cute top.”
I reply hastily, “There wasn’t one your size.” Then, I turn and walk out the doors, undeterred by the stores theft detectors. (like I should’ve been anyway.)