My sweet MIL needed a new monitor for her Windows 95 computer.  Oh, stop giggling.  We took her up to the City, to Fry’s Electronics because they were advertising a cool monitor for $159.99 that was just what she needed.

 

She and I got separated from Hub and Zappa; I must confess to you all that when this family enters almost any store, we scatter like milkweed fluff on a windy day. 

 

MIL and I found the monitors, and stood patiently by our screen-of-choice, awaiting an eager salesperson.  We waited for a long time, because apparently the eager salespersons didn’t think two oldish women would be cool to wait on.  All those suited businessmen who wandered into the monitor section well after us must have looked more like monied customers.

 

Item:  I guess none of them had ever seen “Pretty Woman.”  That scene where Julia Roberts, laden with expensive purchases, returns to the store where nobody would wait on her and says “You work on commission, right?  BIIIIIG mistake” is one of my favorite movie scenes of all time.

 

I flagged down a salesman, and pointed to the monitor my MIL wanted.  He immediately tried to sell us a more expensive monitor instead, and when I assured him that the low price meant far more to my MIL than did all the bells and whistles on the other one, he began muttering under his breath.  I guess he thought we were deaf, like all old ladies who wander into the computer section and amuse all the salesmen with their attempts to buy and use computers. 

 

“But what would prevent someone on the other side of the planet from paying my bills?”  “What if I hit the wrong key and bother President Bush in the middle of the night?”

 

Sorry, we were not that customer.  We were not bearded businesmen with money hanging out of our breast pockets, either, but MIL had cash and had come to Fry’s to spend it.  And our breasts were real, neener neener. Ours weren’t as large as our salesman’s but I promised myself I wouldn’t mention that when I blogged our shopping trip.

 

After listening to his mutters for a few minutes, while he begrudgingly fetched the cheaper monitor for us, I wanted to ask him why Fry’s stocked the lower-priced one at all, if it was so bad, but I didn’t.  Why?  Because I have better manners than he, that’s why.

 

But MIL got her monitor, and it’s really nice.  Which is certainly more than I can say for our salesman.

 

I was reminded of the time my mother tried to buy a new car in this town.  She drove to every dealership in town and not once did a salesman leave the air-conditioned office to come out and wait on her.  She had to go thirty miles north to the next town up to buy one.

 

Listen, salesman:  old people often have money.  Get up off your ass and go out and wait on them. 

 

And if it’s my mom who’s standing out there in the heat waiting for help, you’d better bring her a cold drink when you go out there.