Just Passing By

What is it about women and shopping? If I had to live my life all over again, I think I will become a personal shopper. It will be awesome if I can call the mall my workplace. Then I can rave about my job because I enjoy what I do.

What is there not to like? You’re spending other people’s money. You get to stay in the mall for as long as you like without feeling guilty because you can always say “you’re working”. And you get to buy stuff for other people which are simply fab because you got to choose the color, style and material. Then at the end of the day, you feel like you did your clients a great service because you helped them do a chore that they dread and stretched the value for their money because you scoured the whole mall for clearance items.

Ahhh, if only I can do that. Right now, though, I just allow myself the luxury of window shopping at lunch time to break the day. I found that people at my work just go their separate ways at lunch. I’m tired of spending my lunch hour at my desk or at the break room so I got into the habit of going out for lunch, not exactly to eat.

When I drive myself to work every morning, I try to plan my day ahead. My conversation with myself will go something like this:

Me: O

k, I went to Kohl’s yesterday. Didn’t find anything that caught my eye. I wonder which stores are having a sale today?

Other me: There was a pretty sweater at Kohl’s but you didn’t buy it because it was still more than $15.

Me: I’ll wait til they have a spring sale. I bet they’ll cut the price to half.

Other me: So do you want to go to The Summit today? You still have to buy Joey those Old Navy flip flops she asked you to buy.

Me: Oh yeah, and Tuchie wants a pair too. But The Summit stores are really pricey. I’ll have to go to Old Navy right away and ignore the other shops.

Other me: Yey! So it’s settled then, The Summit for lunch.

Me: Ok. But remind me to buy flip flops and nothing else. I’m saving for my trip home to Pinas.

Other me: Would you pass up if there are really good bargains? You still have to buy pasalubong.

Me: Maybe…
And then the song on the radio will stream into my consciousness. I sing along. It doesn’t matter if my singing voice sucks. There’s nobody but me to hear it. “I’m not ready to make nice…”