Went with my friends to David’s Bridal (aka Estrogen Hell) to find a bridesmaid dress for my friend’s upcoming wedding. We picked out a couple styles and went to a fitting room, but were accosted by a slightly cranky salesman. I guess the employees work on commission, so he wanted to make sure he “helped” us. Well, in the end, he didn’t!
To jump into stereotype land, he was a cranky, condescending gay man (My gaydar was going off…c’mon, he works at David’s Bridal…!). He was a by-the-book-salesman for David’s Bridal (“You should sign up for the credit card…Have you seen our shoes? Try our shoes on…Let’s set an alteration date today-otherwise you won’t get one!“). He had that sort of thin, nasal voice that hoity toity British butlers have in cartoons, but without the British accent. And all that wasn’t too bad for me, until he asked my friends and I if we were comfortable wearing heels, and then lectured us on how to break heels in…seriously? If we want your opinion on heels, Mr. I-wear-flat-shoes-always-because-I’m-a-man, we will ASK you.
He continued to ask us about about trying on shoes several times, even after my friend politely declined. He wanted us to visualize where the hem line of the dress would be. Dude, we don’t even know if we’re going to BUY this dress. He also had to ask *three* times about what “backorder” meant (my friend asked if the dress was in stock, and not “backordered”). Also, this guy had no idea about different dye lots and having all of our dresses made from the same dye lot, so the colors would all match perfectly. To which he basically said: “What? I’ve never heard of that…maybe with other companies, but not with us. All of our colors are the same.” Well, buddy, are you there in Philippines, with the children, hand-dying the fabric? No?! Didn’t think so. The creepiest part was when he unzipped my friend’s dress to pull out the tag and write down the style number…without asking. Touchy, Zip Zip, Touchy!
This guy was just too stiff and stuffy, and seemed to treat us like we had no idea about dresses or shoes. Did our boobs and purses not give away our sexual identity? Guess not. In the end, my friend did pick out a dress style, but we told the Salesman Failure that we would think about it and left the store. We will be going back to order the dresses…but hopefully we can give the commission to someone else.
I don’t think I’m asking too much here, when I want a sales person’s assistance – I just want them to be knowledgeable about the store/merchandise without being condescending…oh, and for them not to be an annoying little bitch!
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