 |
Rude Encounter
It's not often that people are rude to me. Perhaps this is because, from
their point of view, the experience must be so unsatisfying. When I do meet with
rudeness I'm rarely outraged, or piqued or even mildly put out; I'm
generally intrigued. Why would you go to all that trouble? I find myself musing. How
strange. How interesting. And then, of course, it's only a short step to
'Why, I didn't even know you cared!"
This was not at all how I felt when I was insulted in a little local boutique
this morning. I thought I was being a model citizen, well at least in retail
terms I was, because on the way back from the hairdressers I attempted to
impulse buy a winter party dress that caught my eye in a shop window. The dress
was of mid grey panne velvet with a lighter grey gros grain ribbon belt. Ever
since I fell, hopelessly, for a beautiful bottle green velvet party dress in
Prada a month ago-it was bigger than my budget and considerably smaller than
my size - I have been longing for a proper grown up evening dress, with a
little movement to the skirt and a certain sheen that would look luxurious when
captured in oils, say. I was thinking a little bit early Henry James heroine,
a touch of the drab glamour of Celia Johnson in Brief Encounter, a teensy nod
to Virginia Woolf on her neater days with perhaps some outdoorsy Emily Bronte
notes. I wanted something very slightly theatrical, yet definitely more
Sickert than Sargent. The dress I was gazing at was so serious it was almost
genteel, but twinned with my as-yet-unworn frilly grey cape it would be perfect.
I felt a strong swell of desire, it was an exciting moment and I made to slip
the gown off its hanger when the assistant called over to me loudly across
the shop, 'It'll never fit you.'
'Oh!', I murmured, staggering slightly. This was almost a scene from one of
my gentler nightmares. I took a deep yoga breath. Then I gathered myself
up. 'Thing is', I squeaked, 'I do have dresses by this make (Moschino) in
this size (44) so err.....'
The lady shrugged. 'If you wish' she conceded, with the sort of cynical
superiority with which one might attend a meeting of the flat earth society.
As I slipped the dress over my head I said a brief prayer. I wouldn't normally
over something as silly as a new dress, but this had become a matter of
pride. I could hear the assistant hovering excitedly outside my cubicle, her ears
cocked for the sound of straining seams or the chattering teeth of a breaking
zip. To my delight the dress fitted me fine. I emerged into the shop and
examined myself in front of the mirror.
The assistant was impressed, and she bowed slightly in my direction. I could
see she felt the need to make some kind of amends. 'The thing is', she
began, 'it looks so much better than I'...she started again....'You know what I
think it was is...it's just that....the clothes you wore coming in to this
shop were really terrible. Unflattering I mean.'
As an apology this wouldn't quite do. I had thought I looked quite jaunty
and sailor- girl-chic in my red Top Shop cotton skirt, my navy Vuitton short
sleeve jersey with the linen bow at the front and my high heeled wooden clogs.
You don't have to put up with this, I told myself. I tried to come up with
a witty riposte but all the things I thought of really hit the nail on the
thumb such as 'Look, if I wanted insults, I could have got them for free at home.'
Walk away from the shop now, I self instructed, but for some reason I
couldn't move. I had insult paralysis. It was time to strike back and I thought of
telling the woman she was really quite old but I suppose this would hardly
have been news. We both stood facing each other squarely, hoping for something
to happen. After a minute she said to me neutrally, 'You'll take it?' 'Oh. all right then,' I muttered crossly. I imagined my husband reprimanding
me severely later: 'That'll learn her' as he did the time I flung a ten
pound note at a taxi driver who had been horrible to me, while I shouted 'keep
the change! '
No, I knew it wasn't right to reward such bad behaviour, but I also knew
that if I left that lovely dress in the shop the loss would be entirely mine.
|
 |
|
|
|
 |
