I got a part-time job at Dillard’s department store in the Aurora Mall while I lived in Denver, Colorado. If the personnel employees and the Vice President of Human Resources at Dillard’s were shocked to see how I presented myself for the interview, imagine my surprise when they said I was hired. I had no words to express the surprise. That was one of those moments that you see on TV where the movie star faints and falls to the floor. Yeah. No, I didn’t fall to the floor. I didn’t even faint. As a matter of fact, I didn’t even swoon. But they did shock the shit out of me when they said ‘I was hired’. But that was nothing compared to the shock they gave me when they told me which department I was working in. Picture this for a moment. Imagine that you’re a guy. In my case I don’t have to imagine because I am a guy. But humor me. Just imagine that you’re a guy. Are you with me? Now, imagine that the Human Resources (HR) supervisor tells you, a guy, that you are going to be working in the women’s lingerie department. Exactly what in the hell makes you think I know anything about women’s lingerie? Okay. I’ll give you that. I’m married. So, I’ve seen women’s lingerie. I’ve seen it. I’ve even taken it off of a few ladies. A few of you guys may have even tried it on. I’m not saying you have. But I’m not saying you haven’t either. So there I was in the women’s lingerie department trying to sell women’s underwear. I was even holding my own, as long as women knew what the hell size they wore. The problem arose whenever a woman would walk up to me and say, “Excuse me sir. Do you work here?” And much to her surprise, I would answer, “Why yes I do. May I help you?” “I’m looking for new bras. Which ones should I buy?” Naturally, I assumed that every person who walked into the Dillard’s was rich. So of course, I took her straight to the most expensive bras. Then, I extolled the many virtues of these most expensive bras. They were the most comfortable to wear, they lasted wash after wash, and the fit was perfect. If said hypothetical lady ever asked how I knew any of these things, I would just bullshit her. Cuz of course, I didn’t know shit about bras. But nobody ever asked. I think that was cuz I only worked in women’s lingerie for one day. Nah. That had nothing to do with it. It wasn’t until said hypothetical lady slid the next question in that I ran into trouble. Her next question was, “Excuse me sir. What size should I buy?” Now you see, here is where some gray area developed. I couldn’t tell if said hypothetical lady was just screwing with me cuz I was a guy or if she really didn’t know her own damn bust size. I had some real heartburn with that second part about knowing her own damn bust size. How in the hell does a lady not know what size shit she wears? I ain’t buying it. You bullshit the baker and you might get a bun; you bullshit me, and you don’t get none. Yeah. I just wasn’t buying it. That was an awful lot of shit to swallow or buy. And I really didn’t need any shit because I didn’t have nothing to fertilize. So, I looked at the lady and said, “Well lady, here’s the situation. I don’t have an instruction manual that tells me how to measure that. And the way I was taught probably ain’t going to work here. Yeah. I don’t think so. Cuz well, it just ain’t going to work. You see, I’m self-taught how to measure a woman’s bust. I learned in the back seat of a car. You understand why that won’t work here? It just wouldn’t be prudent. If you don’t know your bust size, hmmm… Let me see if I can find a lady to help you. I’ll be right back.” I went and got the department manager in cases like that. Of course, the department manager had to give me a little dose of her shit too. As we walked back toward said hypothetical customer, she always asked me, “How come you couldn’t help the customer?” I rolled my eyes and let my jaw drop a bit. And then I replied, “Really? A woman asked me what size bra to buy. And I should’ve been able to guesstimate her bust size? Really? It’s not like I can just scoot her into a fitting room and touchy-feely to get a general idea about her relative bust size, now can I?” The department manager was trying to restrain herself from laughing. It wasn’t working. I said, “Yeah. Go ahead and laugh. Perhaps you can show me a way to measure bust size.” The department manager didn’t say anything, she just walked over and helped the lady. Later, she asked me why I recommended the most expensive bras to the customer. I told her my strategy. If the customer doesn’t object when I try to sell a Cadillac, I’m going to sell the Cadillac. First, the customer feels flattered that I think he or she can afford the Cadillac. Second, the store makes more money. At the end of the day, that is why a store is in business. A store is in business to make money. At the end of that first day, I had a long talk with the department manager. I suggested that women’s lingerie was probably not the best place in the store for me to work. Luckily, she agreed with me. The next day when I reported for work, I was told to report to men’s suits. If Dillard’s had continued to leave me in women’s lingerie, my part-time job would have been another exercise in futility.
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