I think I've managed to avoid my local mall for months,
straight through shopping season. I've missed so many new things there!
Like the takeover of digital displays. Big video screens now
hang from the mall ceilings, designed to attract the attention of your seven remaining idle
neurons. I caught a flash of Joe Biden
and John Hamm trying to tell me something on my way from Lord and Taylor's to
Macy's. Don't ask me what, but I think
it was some kind of public service announcement. Another time, on another screen, it was just
more advertising; something to remind you of the shopping possibilities you were missing just ten stores away, down the escalator.
Be where you actually are? So over, even in transit.
Retail marketers have to catch us on the run because they know
that the second we stop, we're gone... into the rabbit hole of our own private little
screens. (Where of course, micro advertising videos are also queued up...) I
checked mine to review my text messages, and Lord and Taylor, with yesterday's
"up to 75% off" offer, did its job, diverting me from my original
objective -- Macy's. Following the
text's link to the mobile site, the store looked like it had the necessary selection.
So I started my hunt -- for men's winter pajamas --
on the lower floor of Lord & Taylor's, or, as we like to call it in my
house, Gott un Schneider's.
Now I wonder
if men even sleep in matching pajamas anymore.
All of L&T's men's pajamas, half off a week past Christmas, were sold by the top or
bottom. And all of them with downscaled
upscale logos; Polo players and Nautica sails or Reebock and Calvin.
Reverse snobs like my husband and me, we don't believe in logos;
we don't like to buy ready-to-wear advertising.
Neither do we want winter pjs in fleece (too warm) or short sleeves (too
cold). Nor are we happy to pay twice for one pair of pajamas. And finally, did all of northern NJ's medium-size dads get pajamas for Christmas or
Hanukkah? And did all of the smaller or larger guys sleep in their skivvies? 'Cause they left all their pajamas in the stores. Except for the fleece and the techie winter
camping fabrics, that's all there was; smalls, large, and 2x, 3x, and 4x large.
So I exit L&T.
I figured solidly middle-class Macy's would stock
medium-sized pajamas, and maybe even in sets. Wrong. Same separate top
and bottom Calvins and Ralph Laurens, same logos, at less discount. Same techie
thermals and fleecy pants; a few hanging sets of plaid flannel pjs in two
colors and all sizes but M.
I decided to abandon all hope of cool. I headed for
Sears.
Sears had the sets, by Hanes, in flannel. But again, not the size. Sears also had doors to the parking lot,
where a sudden and blinding snow was now in progress. Panicking, I took a Large and resolved to take them in -- remember, I sew -- before coming to my senses. Then I found and grabbed a flannel bottom in
medium with a print I knew my husband would not be embarrassed to wear. I found a non-techie shirt, also medium, that
in a pinch could pass for sleepwear.
I got on a short check-out line of retirees. When it came my turn the cashier apologized
for her point-of-sale terminals, which always slow down, she said, when it snows. Then she asked me if I wanted a Sears charge
card, for fifteen dollars off, and swore it would only take two minutes. Name, address, phone, driver's license, do we
own/rent our home, and estimated household income, please. I still wanted to pay cash. She forgot and added the 5% for using the new
credit account; that took extra time.
Somehow I had to reenter name, address phone, driver's license,
etc.
I consulted my Android again, this time for weather. Would it pay to wait for the white-out to
clear? In addition to the local weather, Google also took it upon
itself to tell me how long it would take to drive home at that moment, show me
my parking space on the map, other nearby attractions, and six other places selling men's winter
pajamas.
The cashier apologized again, told me she could help me
order a medium pajama set from another store, and it would be shipped home with no shipping
charge. She said she would take my cash
and pay the credit card balance with it, in a few more minutes. But the terminal was working very slowly, and
I had reached the limit of my limited patience. She swore I would get my
bill in the mail, with all the discounts.
By this time, the snow had let up a bit. And two ordering screens were on the
floor right nearby, for the convenience and comfort (chairs and desks, back to back!) of frustrated brick-and-mortar shoppers. With free shipping, to boot. So I sat down and searched for the pjs
myself. The online
system turned up sets of Hanes flannels, medium, in several colors. It even accepted Paypal, just like home. Which
all went to show me, shopping for a commodity I wasn't even trying on, the
utter stupidity of driving to a mall in the first place.
