Saturday, January 8, 2000

Today I was rid of the Old Navy shirt I had gotten for Christmas that I didn't like (SEE: December 28, 1999). I find that exchanging an unwanted shirt at the store where it was bought is a much humane way of dealing with it, rather than condemning it to life in the "bottom-drawer graveyard." With that in mind, my mother and I went to the mall in Watertown, where it was bought, to make the exchange.

There's something about malls. Maybe it's because they pump extra oxygen into the building's atmosphere. Perhaps it's all the bright lights and gaudy colors. Whatever it is, I think people's minds are affected by it.

I went into Old Navy, shirt and gift receipt in hand. At the checkout counters, only about half the lights were on. I stood there a moment, gauging which one I should choose (i.e.: I was looking for a short line). I didn't think I had been standing still for very long, when a woman got behind one of the empty counters, and asked, "Can I help you?"

I walked over to her and said, "I need to make an exchange."

"Okay," she replied, "they can help you at any of those checkout counters."

"Uh...yeah, thanks." And here I was thinking that another counter was opening up. I stand corrected.

I made my way to one of the other counters, and was greeted by a girl who immediately began to ring me up as soon as the shirt hit the counter. She was telling me that the sale was nine dollars when I pointed out that this was an exchange.

I finally got rid of the shirt after filling out the forms and whatnot. It was pretty much the same way it had been when I exchanged the JC Penny shirt - except at Old Navy they asked me why I was exchanging the shirt. Personally, since I was exchanging it using a gift receipt, I don't think they should have asked the question at all. That's just how I feel though.

Rather than give them one of my more creative answers ("This shirt has been touched by the hand of Satan, and continually causes pig's blood to flow from my walls"), I just said, "I don't like the shirt." Next time I get run from counter to counter, rung up for a return, and asked too many questions I'll add, "I don't like your store."

There is one final detail that really irks me though. They were ready to ring me up for nine dollars for the shirt. The cash I got back from the return was over twenty dollars. I told my mother flat out as we exited the store that she was ripped off. Of course, I didn't like the shirt anyway, so it's as much of a rip-off at nine dollars as it is at twenty.

My mother let me drive home. We hadn't talked much on the way up (one of the reasons being that we got into an argument before leaving), but we ended up in a dialogue on the way back to Potsdam.

One of the subjects that came up was my reaction to an Army recruiter when I went to financial aid the day before yesterday. Let me set the scene:

As I was leaving the financial aid office, I was bitching about how I was in a monetary hellhole. Out of nowhere, a guy who had been waiting in line came up to me and said, "I couldn't help but overhear you talking about your financial problems. I am an Army Reserve recruiter. Have you ever considered..."

I cut him off, "No," I said and quickly walked away.

My mother, knowing how I feel about the military had been laughing at the point where he said, "Army Reserve recruiter." However, as soon as I walked off, her laughter turned into an expression of shock upon her face.

In the car today, she rehashed her argument that he was "only human" and "only doing his job." Furthermore, she stated that my actions had been "rude" and made me look like "a child having a temper tantrum." Excuse me, but banging my fists on the floor and screaming, "No mommy, I don't wanna join the army," would have made me look like a child having a temper tantrum. Walking away was a form of strong protest - it may be a bit "rude," but I felt it necessary. As far as "only doing his job," I seriously doubt his original purpose in the financial aid office was to recruit anyone. When he heard me, he saw an opportunity - to go above and beyond in his duty in the worst way possible: harassing people.

I have little love for the military. I have an even lesser love for the way they try to convince people to join. Throughout my senior year in high school and most of the summer before going to college, my name and address had crossed the desk of a particularly zealous recruiter. Not a week went by that I wasn't getting a call from this guy. "Have you thought about your future," was his tagline. He found out that I played keyboard. "Great, the army needs keyboardists!" He found out that I was on staff for my high school newspaper. "Great, the army needs journalists!" He was trying to tell me exactly what I wanted hear. The only problem was, it was connected to the army and that being, he never got to the bottom line: "the army needs people who are willing to die in meaningless wars. When's the next Vietnam?"

It was because of this guy's dogged persistence that I decided I would be just as dogged in my resistance. Sick of the bullshit, I finally told him flat out that I wasn't going to join. To avoid getting trapped in a situation equivalent to a stalking once again, I resolved myself to be just as blunt with any other recruiters who tried to suck me in. The guy outside the financial aid office may have been "only human" but there was no way I was going to risk falling victim to the single mindedness of his predecessor. True, he may not have had a one-track mind, but I was not in the mood to find out.

My mother and I still never agreed in the end. One trait both of us share is stubbornness. As far as that family trait goes, we are two of the worst.

"I was hoping you wouldn't do the things I did when I was young," she said later during the trip, in reference to my underage drinking and pre-marital sex.

"I'm not joining the military," was my retort.