Mall Madness

My Top Pet Peeves at the Mall

For me, a shopping mall is like a glorious oasis, a cool reprieve from the stress and monotony (and in summer, the unrelenting heat) of the week.  I love to meander through this refuge in search of bargains (I'm a whore for a sale), enjoying the odd treat or five along the way.  It is also a great place to do some people watching, particularly in the season of the short shorts.  However, there are a couple of things that annoy me more than a barking dog, N1 traffic and Mariah Carey.

Firstly, those people who are trying to raise money for endangered animals or hungry children or constipated geriatrics.  They try to trap you with a friendly greeting or a compliment on your outfit.  I never fall for it and just give a pseudo smile followed by a firm "no thank you".  I once did just that before ducking into a CNA and the bitch says (in a creepy tone), "I'll be waiting for you when you come out".  Not cool, even if you are trying to save the world.  I will choose the charities I support so please refrain from ruining my shopping experience with your harassment thankyouverymuch.

Speaking of harassment, I avoid eye contact and hold my breath when I walk past those foreigners trying to peddle an array of skin care products with miraculous mud from the Dead Sea.  I was only ensnared by them once, once and never again, when I first visited a mall in the US.  Now I see they are in just about every mall in Cape Town too and there is always some poor soul watching patiently for years of dead skin and liver spots to vanish before their eyes.

In stores like Woolworths and Pick 'n Pay, the Express line is meant for 10 items or less.  Not, 10 items or more if you don't feel like standing in a regular queue.  Of course, now and then we throw a couple of extra items into the basket - in my mind, three packets of chips count as one item.  But there is always that one person in the Express line, that same person that buys 2L Cokes by the dozen, who doesn't give a fuck about how many items they have in their shopping cart.  I once saw a cashier send an offender to the correct line and wanted to applaud her and recommend her for Employee of the Month.

In some stores, while I am happily browsing, which is part of the joy of shopping, I will be interrupted multiple times by one assistant after another asking, "Do you need any help?  Just shout if you need some help."  I'm not a fucking first-time shopper; I will ask for help if and when I need it.  Then I want to pay and there is a line snaking around the store, right past those same overzealous people on the floor, but only one till is open.  At that point my head is looking around like a meerkat in search of a manager.

I am not the most patient of people, I will admit.  But a pet peeve is when someone takes their sweet  time at an ATM.  I'm watching from behind and wondering what they could possibly be doing that is taking so long.    After a lot of sighing and head shaking (to no one in particular) I make sure I complete my transaction extra quickly to show how it should be done.

I also find my eyes rolling uncontrollably when I see women suffering from New Mother Syndrome (NMS), those who completely disregard anyone else because they have given birth recently.  The mothers who push their bundles of joy around in 4 x 4 strollers that will ride right over you so you must just get out of their way or get stuck behind them.  They typically drive huge obnoxious vehicles that they manage to park over two parking spots, perhaps to give them enough room to unload the moerse pram.

And then, my biggest irritation, one that can ruin an entire shopping experience: people who do not wear shoes to the mall.  This epidemic is particularly rampant in the northern suburbs of Cape Town. FFS.  It's not that difficult to throw on a pair of flip flops (or even a pair of Crocs *shudder*) before leaving the house.  Now I have to be subjected to the revolting sight of your black soles while I'm trying to enjoy my Dunkin' Donut.  I typically give these common cretins a look of disgust as they pass me which I am sure they do not register.