Thursday, my boss took our team to lunch at the Mall of America.
We went to Tucci Bennuch and it was… alright. I split a chopped salad and FAMOUS BAKED SPAGHETTI with a coworker. The chopped salad had just enough bleu cheese and bacon in it to be KILLER and just enough wilted greens and grainy tomatoes in it to make it RAUNCHY so….. I give it a C . The baked spaghetti, which frankly – everyone at our table made a giant fuss over – was the weirdest, rudest, most tasteless bunch of nothing ever. With a crust. This is after I’ve sworn myself to be a Pasta-Free Zone! But everyone was mental over it… and now I feel duped. (Much like how I felt after seeing “Brokeback Mountain”.)
We went to Sephora after that… and yes, I was in make-up heaven. I think they should rename it: Sephora- The Greatest Place on Earth. I know I go to a different place when I’m there… I do know that. I open the drawers at the bottom of the displays that only the employees are supposed to open. I ask endless unanswerable questions. I approach perfect strangers to tell that how ABSOLUTELY BREATHTAKING they would look in “Socialite” shadow by “Too Faced”. I simply can not help it. So, after 15 minutes, I’ve convinced all my coworkers to buy GLITTER EYELINER — can you imagine?? And they all love it! And want to buy it! God, if only you could sell makeup like real estate… I’d be so rich… anyway, my boss leans over to me and says, “Wow, Denise. You should totally work here!”
… and my delirious smile slips off my face as I realize my BOSS just said this to me… that I… should work at a…a…a… make up store??? In the….the… *gasp* MALL?!!!!
I could have died.
“But, then I couldn’t work for you!”, I stammered….
“I just meant you look so happy in here.”, she says “People should do what makes them happy.”
Huh.
It is at this point that I convince her – a woman in her late 50’s – that she MUST buy some navy blue/purple glitter eyeliner that makes her look a little burlesque.
I can just as easily use my powers for evil….
The MALL, indeed….