Buying Shoes

Dear Uppity Shoe-Salesman:

You are a shoe-salesman. I don't know if this wasn't clear to you. Your objective, you see, is to sell me shoes. As in, after interacting with you, I should walk away with one or more pairs of shoes. I know you're cranky because you touch women's sweaty feet all day. And I understand that many of these women try on eight pairs of shoes that fit and look nice, and then decide that they're not buying them or inform you that they were just enhancing the window shopping experience, and that they're heinous people. Despite this, you seem to be operating under some misapprehensions. You appear to believe that your job is to:
a) pretend you don't see me holding shoes and looking at you expectantly
b) mozy over when you finally deign to grace me with your attention
c) wander to the back of the store for ten minutes
d) stop to talk with your coworker
e) attempt to "assist" three customers at the same time
f) finally come back and tell me that you don't have the shoes in my size
g) tell me that other stores may have a pair in my size, but you will not be calling said stores
h) get angry when I talk to the manager and go to another store

Allow me to enlighten you: this is not your job.
Next time don't assume that my not being a sixty-year-old woman with a Gucci bag and sneer means I'm not going to drop some money. Or that because I'm younger than you that I'm going to take your shit. There's this crazy thing that comes around once a year where teenagers spend extraordinary amounts of money. Prom, you may be familiar with it. Perhaps not, since I imagine I'm not the first person to walk out in disgust without purchasing anything. I don't know when people decided that "the customer is always right" is some sort of fabrication to keep you down, but I assure you that it's not. Being a salesman means that you sell me something and spend effort attempting to get me to do so, not that I exert a lot of energy trying to purchase something. We live in a capitalist country, so surely you can appreciate that in order to make money, especially on commission, you must first not only have a product, but get it to a customer efficiently. It's your responsibility, so get off your arse.

I don't hold it against you that you don't like your job and aren't particularly good at it. You're not alone. Go listen to some pop music, eat chocolate, and please don't become one of those woman-hating serial killers that my grandmother warns me about every time she finds about a new one on television

Sincerely,
The Girl Who Bought Shoes for Prom, Despite Your Best Efforts to Thwart Her