Shop! In the name of love

Fule for Thought

 

I think the word “shop” is the only four letter word that men really can’t handle. Those of you married men out there know what I mean. Oh sure, it may have started out innocently, where you kept your wife company, but then it changed.  

It grew … it got bigger than you’d ever expected, until shopping became a natural thing you fell into. Women seem to absolutely love shopping. To them, it’s like a “getaway,” a chance to socialize while looking for things to buy.  

Many hours can go casually by, while looking for those “special” items. Men, on the other hand, know what they want, and don’t want, and will not deviate. If we have to shop, it will be a quick, military-like strike: get in, buy, and get out with as few casualties as possible!

On a recent trip to Chinook Centre, we finally managed to get into the underground parkade. It was an absolute zoo, with security directing traffic BELOW ground. Oh, and they have those state-of-the-art red and green lights to show you where spots are available. The problem is that NONE of them work right!  

The green ones are green even if the spot is taken. Some company ripped off Chinook, because these lights cannot be trusted. I’ll bet that security kicks back, watches the monitors, and laugh at us chumps heading to the green lights, only to be denied a spot!

I think if store owners in malls were sharper, they’d change their store lay-outs. I mean, if a man HAS to shop for clothes with his wife, design the store to keep that guy busy! Put in a wet bar with a big screen TV set to sports … THAT would get us in the store, and keep us there longer! Wouldn’t it be great … your wife casually picking out things to try on, while you sample the many choices of draft beer! And don’t stop there … let it be like Bourbon Street in New Orleans, or Beale Street in Memphis. Let us take our beers from store to store … now wouldn’t THAT be a way to get husbands to stay in the mall!

I love the women’s stores that have comfortable chairs for the guys. They usually have magazines out as well. Again, though, if you REALLY want to keep us happy waiting, put out Sports Illustrated, Time, heck … even Rolling Stone!  Don’t put out Glamour, ELLE, or the Oprah magazine … how’s THAT going to help a guy? On this same clothes shopping trip, I rushed for a comfortable chair (I actually had to out race an old guy, but hey … survival of the fittest)! 

Debbie had a great sales lady who kept bringing her clothes and doting on her. I sat with that glazed look guys get when we’re waiting for our wives … it’s another survival instinct: we “zone out” to stop ourselves from poking out our eyes! Our minds are thinking “kill me now,” but our mouths have been trained to say, “yeah, that looks great, no, I like the colour … it works for you.”  

Deb’s sales lady came over to my chair and offered me a chilled bottle of water! Wow, I was touched, but I did ask if she had any Rye to go with it … sadly, no (I’m not kidding….a wet bar would have been great)!

The manager also joined in with the sales lady, and said Deb looked familiar; she asked Deb if she was a “regular” at another location? I couldn’t stop myself … I said, “it’s probably her shoplifting you’re remembering!”  

Now, Deb hates to be embarrassed, which is sad because she’s married to me! I told the lady that probably Deb’s picture is in a lot of different stores, and the manager even replied that she thought her picture was in their staff room! POOR Debbie!

On a recent trip to Canmore, Debbie was dragging me from “quaint store” to “quaint store”… I could feel that glazed look starting! Suddenly, we met three older men standing on the sidewalk … just standing. They weren’t talking, and they were also glazed over.  

“Waiting for your wives, aren’t you?” asked Deb. She smiled, and said they probably wouldn’t have to wait TOO long. They smiled back, a kind of helpless smile, almost a cry for help … I could only nod my head, on my way to MY next store! It felt like the four of us were dogs waiting, or being led, to be “fixed,” or put down. We all KNEW it, but it was too late!

The only time I’ve EVER enjoyed clothes shopping, was when Deb was picking out bras. She called me into the change room for an opinion, and I, like any other guy, RAN! In moments the SEARS lady knocked on the door and said I’d have to leave. I tried to explain we were married, and I’d seen her in labour, but it didn’t work! The ONE time I was happy shopping for womens’ clothes, I was ACTUALLY interested, and it came to a crashing end! Crap.

(“Fule for Thought” is a slice of life humourous column that appears in the Strathmore Times, written by long-time resident, town councillor, high school teacher, coach, husband and father of two – Pat Fule. If you would like to get in touch with Pat, you can send him an e-mail at Pat.fule@shaw.ca)