My amigo, Andrew, and I had loads of time to kill that Tuesday, so I suggested we go to the costume shop so I could try to find a costume. After about 30 or 45 minutes, the owner started following Andrew and I around the store, quickly telling us how great a product was as soon as either of us picked it up. But 20 minutes later, his patience wore thin.
"Have you decided what you want to be?" the owner asked.
"Well right now, I'm shooting for a Black Mexican, a pirate who can't swim, or an obese ninja," I replied. "But I can't decide. I'm just looking right now, tho."
"OK, but here, we're all about transforming people. And if you're not willing to be transformed, we don't want to waste your time, and we don't want you wasting our time."
The owner quit talking, but he made sure to stay at the end of the aisle, to remain close to us. Just in case we needed any help, of course. I wish I could say I found it odd that, with a store full of customers, he continued to keep his eyes on only us. But Real recognize Real; I knew what was up. But it seems he couldn't keep his tongue or frustration subdued any longer.
"Have you decided yet?" the owner asked again.
"Not yet," I nonchalantly replied. Again. After being talked down to for the past 20 or so minutes, I was doing my best to tune this man out. "I'm still looking, and I don't think Andrew's even going to dress up for Halloween."
"OK guys, I need you to do me a favor," the owner said in a matter-of-fact tone. "I need you to go outside and don't come back in until you know what you want."
I stood there shocked. Not shocked that I was followed around a store. Not even shocked that I was asked to leave. I was dumb-founded by the fact that we were being temporarily kicked out. For fucking browsing.
"Are you serious?" Andrew inquired. "Why?"
"Because I don't like you two. I'm the owner and I want you both out of my store."
Although Andrew decided to take the low road and curse the man out, I decided to get my buddy and leave without a fuss -- after depositing a mouthful of saliva on the front steps. To the owner, and to many others, it might seem that I wasn't forceful enough. Even Andrew thought I should have stood my ground, got in the man's face and stated my case. But I refused to play into that asshole's hands and be the ignorant nigger he probably thought I was. I know the deal. I've seen this kind of arrogance and ignorance before. And I know there are no customer service agents to call because this is a locally-owned shop.
But what he didn't know is that Phyllis Oliver is my mother; Carol, Wilma and Debra are my aunts; and Tia is my sister. None of us willingly lay down and get violated with piss-poor customer service. If you want to be nasty with us, we will both take the high road all the while getting just as nasty with you.
Immediately after being told to leave, I got my sister on the phone and told her what happened. Although our conversation lasted for under a minute, we set up a plan for how to stick it to the man. Three days later, she, our cousin Amber, and their friends Cynthia, Chelsea and Malcolm met me at the costume shop. We we went in with the intentions of wasting as much time as possible. Try on as many costumes/wigs as possible. Ask as many questions as possible. But always being as congenial as possible.
Amber picked up a fake severed limbs, a female Freddie Krueger outfit and another outfit. My sister got the female boxer and sexy gangster outfits. Chelsea had the gold digger and opera singer. Cynthia had the naughty cop and 60's flower child. Malcolm had the six-foot-tall Stewie Griffin. Even though they didn't take long to try on costumes, and the sign clearly stated we could try on up to six costumes, the owner came by and rushed them with their costume fitting, further exemplifying the poor customer service that led to this ruse.
After an hour, everyone made their choices and headed to the check-out counter with the intentions of ringing it all up on one tab. I felt bad for what we were doing because all the employees were very helpful and friendly. It was the owner who unknowingly fucked it up for everyone else. After the cashier hand-keyed and bagged our $488-worth of merchandise, my sister and I "all of a suddenly" decided we didn't want any of it.
I've never seen a person's emotions go from pseudo-friendly to boiling red in 1.4 seconds before, but I saw it then. The owner quickly pointed at the six of us, told us to "get the hell off" his property, and that if he saw us on the property again, he would call the cops on us for trespassing. Seeing that we were completely unfazed by his threat, he whipped out his huge, 1997-era cell phone and called the cops that moment. Knowing to get out while the gettin's good, we piled into our cars and drove away, completely satisfied that we were able to stick it to the man while not turning into Sambos and coons in the process.
The moral of this story is to be nice to the people who spend money or will potentially spend money in your store. Just because you have a monopoly on the costume business after the only other party store was forced to temporarily shut down, doesn't mean people will put up with poor service. And if you want to fuck me, I'll fuck you back. With no lube.
Deuces.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oGaFPJmMNbw
