Well, it finally happened. No, I don’t have a date. No, I didn’t win the lottery. And no, I don’t have superpowers, although, that would have certainly affected the outcome of the chain of events that led me to this moment. No, I mean “it finally happened” in the Freddie Mercury sense of the phrase. That’s right. I’ve gone slightly, nay, utterly mad. Return with me for a moment to the beginning: that fateful night I visited the mall looking to get some Gap body spray and dinner at Chick-fil-A and ended up leaving with $120 eye gel because I decided that was as good a time as any to start making more eye-contact with people. (I’m sure you are dying to know if the eye gel was worth it and the answer is “NO”. And considering my current circumstances, I have absolutely no scruples about saying that SEACRET products are rubbish for the price. You can get the exact same results by doing nothing and nothing, as we all know, costs nothing. I would go as far as to say that they rig either their mirrors at the kiosks or put “magic” ingredients in what they allow you to sample and then sell you dollar store generic product for the price of your mobile phone bill.)
After that visit, there were several other visits to the mall where I was inevitably forced to pass a SEACRET kiosk. My instinct was to avoid eye-contact out of self-preservation, but I decided that I was not going to allow these aggressive sales reps to keep me from making progress on one of my life’s goals. Also, avoiding eye-contact isn’t really effective now that they’ve taken to literally planting themselves in front of you so that you will run into them which forces you to make eye-contact. A few times I was able to escape with a polite “No, thank you” and a quick side-step without even breaking my stride. Of course, then they had to change tactics and used misdirection to lure me to their stall. Determined to power on past them, the girl with the lotion asks, “Do you keep my nails natural?” What? Do I natural keep what? All she needed was that moment of hesitation and I found myself inches from those stupid dead sea products. She picked up a rectangular nail buffer and I saw my next tactic.
“I already have one,” I said confidently--I really do have one. She almost looked defeated, but arched an eyebrow and quickly rebounded, “From us?”
“Yes,” I said triumphantly as I turned to go.
“When did you buy it?” she asked scrambling to regain control, but it was too late. I had put eleven feet between us as I called out over my shoulder, “Last year!”
Talk about being proud of myself! She nearly had me in her clutches, but I escaped yet again. I thought that was the end of it and took care of my mall business. I had actually enjoyed my trip to the mall and was so happy that when I came back the same way to get to my car, I was startled she stepped in front of me again, lotion locked and loaded. She caught me so much by surprise that I faltered. “Would you like a sample of our hand cream?” She smiled coolly and her words were smooth, almost sing-songy, yet sinister. I recovered from my surprise and gave her an exasperated, “Seriously?!” as I kept on walking and shaking my head. There was no mistaking, though, that a shift had occurred: We were clearly playing a new game now.
Yes, I know. It sounds a bit dramatic and embellished. I thought I was just being paranoid myself. Paranoid is as paranoid does, however, and I made a conscious effort to avoid that part of the mall anytime I had to be there. I would even walk around the outside of the mall just to get to my desired destinations. That lasted only until the next good rain, when I got splashed by a Hummer as I was making my way round from the Ladies’ Dillards to the Men’s Dillards just so I could get into the Gap from the clothing side, which is a good 20-30 feet from that SEACRET station, undetected. Enough, already! I chastised myself. This is all in your head. Just walk through the mall like a normal person!
My first day “back” on that particular concourse of the mall, was an extremely busy Saturday. I was nervous about going past that booth, but I thought with such a great crowd, I wouldn’t be noticed and who cares anyway, right? She probably didn’t spend a thought obssessing over me and I’ve been avoiding her like the plague. I held my head high, gaze forward as I walked confidently past amongst the throng of mall-goers. I had nearly cleared the “danger zone”--you know, the 10 foot radius between consumers and any kiosk--when I felt a sharp jolt then pain right in the socket of my shoulder as I was knocked sideways and slightly off balance. I steadied myself and was about to apologize when I looked into cold eyes accompanying a smug smile. It was her. “No, I am sorry. Do you keep your nails natural?” She was almost purring. My favorite Seacret sales rep had spotted me immediately and not only had she slithered through the crowd to get to me, she shoulder-punched me. AND she did it AGAIN on my way out! The bruise I had on my shoulder socket took over a week to finally disappear, so I stopped going to the mall for a while.
As most of you who live in Lubbock know, Barnes & Noble relocated and built a big store at the mall. And as any of you who know me know good and well that the only thing I love as much as, if not more than Williams & Sonoma and Sephora is any giant bookstore. (I WILL visit the Amazon warehouse one day!) So after a many-month hiatus, I returned to the mall and parked at the Ladies’ Dillards’s side so I could check out the hats and purses on my way to check out the new Barnes & Noble. So caught up in my elation and haste to visiting that happy place, I forgot about the Seacret kiosk and my nemesis there until I had stepped into the “danger zone”. Everything began moving in slow-motion as the realization of my position came to me. She materialized out of nowhere. Taking advantage of me being clearly off my guard, she stabilized herself, bent her knees and turned her right shoulder inward . . . she came up and forward just as I reached her and knocked me in my left breast-bone so hard that I spun around once and landed flat on my back. I don’t know how I managed to not hit my head, but I didn’t. She rushed to me immediately, apologizing.
“I am so sorry!” she cooed as she helped me sit up and looked genuinely concerned. “Are you alright? I didn’t even see you there! Sure you are OK?”
What???? I narrowed my eyes as I met her gaze and saw a flash of triumph cross her eyes so quickly that you had to be looking for it to have even caught it. She held her hand out to me to help me stand up, maintaining her “oops-it-was-an-accident” facade. She made to let go once I was standing again, but I clutched her arm tightly and forced her to look at me once more.
“Oh, it’s ON,” I said in a low growl. She didn’t respond or react, but I knew she did not mistake my meaning. We dropped arms and I stalked away fuming.
I like to talk big: 1) because who doesn’t? 2) it helps me release frustration, yet simultaneously invoke laughter at my own wit--yes, I think I’m funny, and 3) I don’t have the guts to follow through on my big, exaggeratory speeches. Ask Sarah, she will confirm this. Plus, in my heart of hearts, I really don’t relish being mean to people. Even if they have it coming and I am absolutely justified, my anger/frustration/whatever will subside and I will feel like dirt for being ugly. As usual, after I had cooled off and wandered around Barnes & Noble for a while, my perspective shifted and I had no desire to pursue “it” being “ON”. It was just stupid and I’ve never been in a real fight. I certainly didn’t want to be in one now considering I am a sack of potatoes with noodle arms, putty hands and loose-jointed legs. So I found another way out of the mall determined not to come back for at least a year or two . . .
. . . which brings us to today. Now before I continue, I want to preface what follows by saying that I have really been having a hard time here lately. I am really behind at work. I’m overwhelmed by the semi-complete state of my home. My emotional involvement at work due to the lack of effort on the part of parents of my students has maxed itself out to the extent that the things I blow up over shock even me and has left me utterly exhausted in spirit. I feel like I really hate people when I get this way. My depressive episodes, which generally mean lots of crying for me, have been manifesting themselves as a complete lack of desire to do anything but lay on my couch and sleep. It’s been very bizarre. I say this, not to justify my actions, but rather to put my frame of mind into perspective. I am not proud of myself.
So I had to go to the mall today. It was a horrible day. HORRIBLE!!! We had a little snack party and these free-loading parents show up and eat nearly everything. The Special Ed Director got on to me because I hadn’t taken a TAKS-Alt training module. And because of the Shattered Dreams program, I was two aides short with no subs. I was tired and frustrated and I just wanted to come home and sleep awhile. One of my aides’s car broke down and she needed to pick up a gift she had ordered from Gap. Since we got out early I was going to have a nice long nap, but I am so grateful for the loyalty and devotion of my aides and they make such a paltry salary in comparison to what they are worth that I cannot refuse them anything. I bucked up and told her that I would take her to the mall and bring her home. I should have parked on the Men’s Dillards side. I should have waited in the car. I should have let her take my car while I waited out at school for her to come back. There are a thousand other things I should have done, could have done to have avoided what happened.
I was so exhausted that I needed help to stay awake for all the driving, so naturally, since I was already angry about the mooch family, I ranted to my aide about them all the way to the mall. The good thing was that she was equally angry and ranted right back. I started talking big, as is my custom, and began devising all sorts of punishments for those parents and all the other people who had ever irritated me. I started absentmindedly playing with my little can of pepper spray on my keyring as I imagined spraying it in that dad’s face the next time he attempted to help himself to food in my classroom. I imagined spraying it at all the cosmetic/perfume counter trolls who act like I’m beneath them when I show the slightest interest toward anything in their area because I’m not dressed to the nines and clearly not worth their effort. I imagined spraying it in that dad’s face right before I pushed him down a long flight of stairs.
As we drew near the Gap, I was acutely aware of the Seacret booth. Sure enough, my nemesis was ready and waiting. She had her lotion out and she was in position to knock me over again. I slowed my pace and Becky veered into Gap Body. I stopped squarely in front of Miss Seacret and she straightened up and looked at me with false demure. We stood there, facing off for what seemed like hours. I wanted to . . . and I realized I didn’t know what I wanted to do. Just walk away, you’re tired and you want Jesus to be proud of you. I turned to go, but not before she squirted fruit-scented Dead Sea-salted body cream all over me. I didn’t hesitate . . . didn’t think . . . I unleashed a stream of pepper spray right in her face. Her shrieks were shrill and stifled between coughs and sputters. I pushed her over and watched her writhe on the floor in agony for a moment before I picked up the tube of body cream and squeezed out the rest all over her. That’s when the cops showed up.
I was arrested and charged with assault. I decided to use Justin, a friend of mine who is a policeman, as my one phone call. He helped me contact my dad who posted my bail. I have a court appearance in two weeks and can’t leave town, so I won’t be going New Mexico for Thanksgiving. I want to plea insanity, but I don't know that it will fly here. I’m a bit numb at the moment. I know I was utterly and completely in the wrong, but I’m having a hard time feeling remorse. I’m sure that I will eventually and I will apologize and make restitution for my behavior. I am more worried about the disappointment and heartache I have caused my family, especially my parents.
Eye-contact--it’s just not worth it. At all. EVER.
Only fragments of this story are factual:
1. Seacret Eye Gel was not effective after that first demo at the kiosk last year. I used it faithfully everyday, sometimes twice a day and saw no results that seemed so evident before I bought it.
2. The Seacret girl did use misdirection and tried to interest me in their nail buffer, which I already own, when I refused a sampling of lotion.
3. I did go to the mall today.
