Blogs | Here Comes the Wedding | Un-dressed
June 17, 2008
Un-dressed
Okay, since my first foray into dress shopping went so well, I naively thought that the rest of my shopping experiences would be equally painless. Wow—could not have been more wrong. The second time I went dress shopping, my mom came along for moral support. Indeed, I needed her.
I did everything I was supposed to do. I made an appointment, I arrived on time—everything. I walk in and meet our consultant. Unfortunately, the very first thing I notice about her was her absolute dragon breath. Yes, from across the counter, this woman was putting out a not-very-pleasant aroma every time she spoke.
Oh my God…I had no idea what to do! It seemed rude to offer her a breath mint or to cancel the appointment. So I went through with it. I let her bring me dresses to try on and help me into them in the tiny dressing room—all the while, trying to hold my breath.
But that wasn’t the worst part. The fact that she had absolutely no idea what she was doing was the worst part. Being a plus-sized bride, I wanted a bit more coverage in the arms and shoulders, so I asked for a dress with sleeves. She then informs me that they don’t make any dresses with sleeves (A total lie, since I saw a few on the company web site). She didn’t even bother to offer me one of the lace bolero jackets I saw hanging up in the accessories aisle—I had to specifically ask for it. It’s like she had no idea that a coat would be of interest to a bride who didn’t want to show her arms. And she had no idea how to upsell—I mean, duh—she’d be making a commission on any accessories she sold me. Why wouldn’t she show me a jacket?
I also asked if they had any dresses with net or lace overlay. She had no idea what I was talking about. Overlay may as well have been a word in a complete foreign language. It was awful. My little sister who’d helped me on my previous shopping trip could’ve smoked this woman in a head to head wedding dress challenge, and this is what she does for a living.
Argh! My mom took a few photos of me in the dresses I tried on that day, and you can see it all over my face. I’m miserable. I hate this day. I’m annoyed with the salesperson, and I can’t get out of there soon enough.
So we leave. Politely, still, because that’s the way I am. But definitely not happy. This salesperson then calls me the next day to ask when I’m coming back to try on dresses. Is she mad? Seriously? She had no idea how bad it was? Awful. I’m going to try on more dresses, but I’m going to have to gird my loins if there are more dragon-breath salesladies waiting out there.
Posted by Nichole at 3:33 p.m.
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