There's a woman at the Columbia Heights Savers that has always been cranky. I think she aims to steal my thrifting bliss by either shouting at someone about something, or at the very least shouting about how stupid the whole wide world is because they take more than three garments into the fitting room at a time. I try and make her happy by following the three garment rule even when there's no one else around who wants to try anything on. In the middle of my trying to make her happy, she has pounded on the door wanting to know exactly how many items I've got and if it is my stupid cart that is so purposefully blocking her from doing the work that she doesn't get paid enough to do. I usually take it in stride. Today I pulled up wanting to donate. I think that would make her happy because I want to give them stuff to sell... Almost no strings attached, except that whomever I unload my crap to should at the very least be mildly courteous. No dice. She was rude. She did everything except spell out and perform an interpretive dance on exactly how stupid she thinks I am because I have never donated items at the back door. Only idiots drive up and want to give away their free stuff at the front door. Duh. So, I drove to Arc Value Village, which is was just a little bit out of my way, and I donated there. I bit my lip at Savers because I didn't want to be mean, which I regret. I basically missed my
chance to tell her how much she sucks. Here's my letter to her.
Dear Savers Lady,
I wish I would have told you that I think you're a pain in the ass, and that because of you I have left your store several times without buying anything because I can't stand listening to all of your bitterness.
I wish I would have told you that even though you were wearing bunny ears and whiskers to work today that you are not the teeniest bit cute or cuddly. The opposite in fact. I bet your grandchildren don't even like you.
I wish I would have told you that Savers has been over-pricing their jeans for about the last year or so. And it's probably all your fault. Just because something has a JJill tag on it, does not mean that it should automatically cost $9.99.
I wish I would have told you that you have bad breath.
I wish I would have told you that are not the boss of me.
I wish I would have told you to take your secret back door donation spot and stuff it down your ankle length tapered jeans.
THE END (of our relationship)