Discovered Matalan by mistake recently. Bored, wandering round, I found some cheap Calvin Klein pants. Bought them. Upon getting home I decided they looked a bit 'wrong'. Decided to return them. *
Queing up to return them I notice the 'Refunds with a receipt' sign. Good. Then notice the '...but not for pants obviously' disclaimer underneath'. Ah.
Unload the bag on the counter confident my 2mins queing has given me ample space and time to create a genius explanation that will bypass the rules and get me dosh back.
I decide I'm going to tell them I bought them for my friend that's in a wheelchair and couldn't come in to return them easily after he decided he didn't like the style. Yes, that's what I'll say, no one's going to say no to that. That even makes me look nice. Yes, good plan. And it's the kind of thing I'd have done if it were true anyway, so it's not a wrongness, it's a good thing to say. **
Absolutely normal mum type Matalan saleswoman asks "what's wrong with these then luv?"
What I have planned to say is suddenly halted as it starts to form in my throat when I see out of the corner of my eye, a chap in a wheelchair queing about two people back to return something. I can't say it now can I? I am suddenly hit a wall of guilt and akwardness and I panic and say...
Me - "I bought these for a friend. I won't say why he didn't like them, but he didn't."
Matalan Mum Woman - "ok"
Me - "well I'll tell you then, he thought they looked a bit gay". ***
Matalan Mum Woman - "er, ok."
Me - (realising that I am looking increasingly gay with every word) - "I'M NOT GAY!"
Matalan Mum Woman - "er, ok."
Me - "HE'S NOT GAY EITHER! - WE'RE NOT GAY!" Not that I'm against it, But I'm not myself. You understand".
At this point, I contemplate just coming clean and admitting there isn't in fact a friend in a wheelchair or a not gay male adult friend that I buy designer underwear for out of the blue AND return it for him.....and just admit I am a liar and a mental.
But I don't, I carry on.....(why?)
Matalan Mum Woman - "er, ok."
me - "Look I'm married, pulling out my wedding ring finger to discover I've left it in my swimming bag (ring not finger). "can I just have my money back please and go home, I promise they haven't been used, he just took one look and said - 'TOO GAY'. "
Matalan Mum Woman (somewhat stunned at this point) - "ok luv, I can see you haven't worn them, just this once luv, I'll say yes, that's fine. "
Me - looked around to an intregued audience and scuttled off to find Mrs Wu (who had watched half of it and just cringed behind some cheap T shirts on a rail. )
NEVER EVER going back ther. EVER, for whatever reason. EVER.
At least it was in Bognor Regis, and I never actually have to go back there.
* I just found myself lost and at a loss in Bognor Regis.
** I suppose I was thinking about my childhood friend Gary (who was in a wheelchair) and a similar experience at a cinema once when I said too much. But we did get a refund.
***Why did I say that?And don't get me wrong, I'm not some homophobe, I just thought it sounded an ok excuse for about the time it took for the message to go from my brain to my gob. And realised about a tenth of a second later that it was in fact a terrible excuse.
Queing up to return them I notice the 'Refunds with a receipt' sign. Good. Then notice the '...but not for pants obviously' disclaimer underneath'. Ah.
Unload the bag on the counter confident my 2mins queing has given me ample space and time to create a genius explanation that will bypass the rules and get me dosh back.
I decide I'm going to tell them I bought them for my friend that's in a wheelchair and couldn't come in to return them easily after he decided he didn't like the style. Yes, that's what I'll say, no one's going to say no to that. That even makes me look nice. Yes, good plan. And it's the kind of thing I'd have done if it were true anyway, so it's not a wrongness, it's a good thing to say. **
Absolutely normal mum type Matalan saleswoman asks "what's wrong with these then luv?"
What I have planned to say is suddenly halted as it starts to form in my throat when I see out of the corner of my eye, a chap in a wheelchair queing about two people back to return something. I can't say it now can I? I am suddenly hit a wall of guilt and akwardness and I panic and say...
Me - "I bought these for a friend. I won't say why he didn't like them, but he didn't."
Matalan Mum Woman - "ok"
Me - "well I'll tell you then, he thought they looked a bit gay". ***
Matalan Mum Woman - "er, ok."
Me - (realising that I am looking increasingly gay with every word) - "I'M NOT GAY!"
Matalan Mum Woman - "er, ok."
Me - "HE'S NOT GAY EITHER! - WE'RE NOT GAY!" Not that I'm against it, But I'm not myself. You understand".
At this point, I contemplate just coming clean and admitting there isn't in fact a friend in a wheelchair or a not gay male adult friend that I buy designer underwear for out of the blue AND return it for him.....and just admit I am a liar and a mental.
But I don't, I carry on.....(why?)
Matalan Mum Woman - "er, ok."
me - "Look I'm married, pulling out my wedding ring finger to discover I've left it in my swimming bag (ring not finger). "can I just have my money back please and go home, I promise they haven't been used, he just took one look and said - 'TOO GAY'. "
Matalan Mum Woman (somewhat stunned at this point) - "ok luv, I can see you haven't worn them, just this once luv, I'll say yes, that's fine. "
Me - looked around to an intregued audience and scuttled off to find Mrs Wu (who had watched half of it and just cringed behind some cheap T shirts on a rail. )
NEVER EVER going back ther. EVER, for whatever reason. EVER.
At least it was in Bognor Regis, and I never actually have to go back there.
* I just found myself lost and at a loss in Bognor Regis.
** I suppose I was thinking about my childhood friend Gary (who was in a wheelchair) and a similar experience at a cinema once when I said too much. But we did get a refund.
***Why did I say that?And don't get me wrong, I'm not some homophobe, I just thought it sounded an ok excuse for about the time it took for the message to go from my brain to my gob. And realised about a tenth of a second later that it was in fact a terrible excuse.
