Sephora

I wish the employees at Sephora would stop following me around. I think Sephora hires about three times as many people than any other store, because clerks literally swarm the place. Now, a store with fairly good service will naturally have a couple clerks come up and ask if you need assistance. Sephora offers me six such people. While two is charming, six is a mob. Each clerk will wander from another part of the store, spot me, and use the vulcher method: they swoop down, pick me apart, posing the same question several different ways, and then tell me their names. I estimate that I get in enough uninterrupted time to properly apply exactly one shade of eyeshadow on one eye, and lip gloss.

I, of course, have absolutely no memory for names, especially when everyone is named something like Karen or Julia. After fending off the employees and getting in a good five minutes of uninterrupted shopping time in half an hour, the question posed at the counter is troublesome. Did anyone help you today? Technically speaking, I suppose the women did help. They kept my shopping efficient, and I never felt like getting a question answered would take fifteen minutes of searching (a la Macy's). I feel that at least one of the women who came at me should receive recognition, so I choose one of the four names I have stashed away: Sarah, Lindsay, Karen, or Julia. I have yet to encounter a blank look from the person checking me out (try it sometime, you'll be surprised).

My confession is this, though: sometimes I just go into Sephora with my friends and don't buy (or plan to buy) a single thing. We just like to play with make-up and smear eyeliner on each other's arms when one of us is distracted. I've have, due to these sessions, experienced the joy of chocolate flavored, glittery face powder. Kat caught my arm when I wasn't looking, and instructed me to lick it. I took a surreptitious look around, but Julia^2 was chattering away at another customer, and I licked my arm. My arm tasted like chocolate, and I was delighted. I feel slightly guilty when the saleswomen come by and ask me if I need help, and I'm not actually trying to shop. But not really, because there are five more people helping anyone who truly intends to do serious shopping.