As a teen I worked at a Dairy Queen and after that I worked at a grocery store. I came to loathe both jobs, mainly because of the mush my brain turned into after several years of repetitive tasks and also because people have the propensity to be unbelievably rude.

So I totally understand what it's like to hate your job and all, but that does not excuse how I was treated at Foot Locker today. I had bought running shoes from them over a year ago and the service was great; an employee spent at least twenty minutes answering my questions. Unfortunately said employee was not there this afternoon. I was looking at a few shoes when a moderately disheveled young man came up to help me. I asked to try on two different pairs and he said I should really stick with the more expensive pair.

"Why?" I asked.
"Well...because they're built better."
"What makes them better?" That's an honest question, right?
"Um...it's kind of hard to explain if you don't know anything about running shoes."

I waited for an explanation as to why one shoe was superior to the other. Instead he stared at me, and I stared right back at him, expecting him to provide some sort of answer. Nothing. That was my answer. I apparently didn't know enough about the exotic merchandise in this national chain, and he wasn't about to bother explaining it to me.

Let's take a time out. First of all, it's not like I careened into the store, grabbed this man by his ear and demanded he suck on my toes while providing insight to the molecular structure of each shoe. He's the one who suggested I buy one running shoe over the other, so therefore, I assumed he'd be able to answer a simple question as to why. I wasn't trying to be difficult or demanding; I work out a lot and I need a well-built shoe. If one shoe really is better, I'll (grudgingly) pay more money for it. And last time I checked, I speak English, so it was entirely possible for him to form coherent sentences that I WOULD HAVE UNDERSTOOD, regardless of the fact that no, I'm not a shoe connoisseur. But instead, he chose to talk to me like I just exited the womb last night because "I don't know anything about running shoes." Hint: it's YOUR job to know something about running shoes. You work here. If you actually don't know anything about shoes, don't bother telling me that one shoe is better than the other.

Time in.

So after a good 15 seconds of participating in our little staring contest, I put the shoes back on display, looked over at my boyfriend who had witnessed the entire thing, and walked out. I don't appreciate when people talk to me like I'm stupid.

I then went to another shoe store in the mall where I was treated like an actual human being and left with a new pair of Nikes. Screw you, Foot Locker.