I ventured to the outlet mall with the husband on Sunday. I wasn’t going to go anywhere because I just switched from Zoloft to Lexapro and I wanted to be sure I was “normal” enough to go out in public. Then, I said, “Screw it! Let’s go shopping.” I wasn’t really planning on buying anything because as the husband says, “We’ve been spending money like drunken sailors.” I’m not sure what that means as we have not purchased hookers or cheap rum, or any rum for that matter.
But then there was a Kate Spade store. Cue the harps. Everything was 70% off. My wonderful husband insisted that we go look around. This is why I love him. Well, there are other reasons, but his insisting that I buy even more purses is one of them. So, of course, I found two purses that did not even cost as much as one Kate usually does. I walked out of the store smiling with my Kate Spade shopping bag hanging off of my arm.
Then, we began looking in different clothing stores. The husband (we’ll call him Chris) was looking for good deals on Polo shirts because he only has 872 of them in every color in the Roy G. Biv rainbow. He needs more shirts, you guys. He’s got a uniform to maintain.
Finally, at G.H. Bass, he found the gold mine of Polo shirts. Can we call them all “Polo” like people in the South call all sodas “Coke?” Anyway, you know what I mean – short sleeve business casual and/or golf shirts with three buttons. They had a ton of them, so he grabbed a few to try on.
While he was in the fitting room, I must have looked lost because the manager (she seemed in charge so she must have been the manager, right?) came over to ask me if I needed help with anything. I said, “no, thanks” and raised my bag, telling her that I already spent money today.
That’s when my awkward light came on.
Manager: Have you seen our purses? [She points to a bunch of perfectly nice looking purses without Kate Spade labels.]
Me: I’m kind of partial to Kate. [I held up the purse I had hanging cross body.]
Manager: [Gets a serious look on her face] Oh yeah, especially now.
For those of you who don’t know or don’t care, Kate Spade committed suicide a few weeks ago.
Me: Yes, it’s a shame she didn’t just take her meds. I take meds. I don’t understand why people are ashamed of taking meds.
Manager: Me, too.
Me: I read that she self-medicated with alcohol, which is the opposite of what she needed.
Manager: Yep, because it’s a depressant.
My Brain: Hold my beer, Lisa. Shit is about to get awkward.
Me: Years ago, when I was going through my divorce. I wanted to kill myself. I sat in a closet and thought about buying a gun and shooting myself.
Manager’s Brain: Seriously Shari, you need to stop talking to customers you always get the weirdos.
Me: I was doing comedy at the time, and the next night I did a show, and everyone was telling me how funny I was and how much they loved me. I was thinking if they only knew.
Manager: Yep, you never know I guess.
Manager’s Brain: Shari, say something neutral and back away slowly. You are not the fucking suicide hotline.
Manager: I wonder what happened with Anthony Bourdain.
Me: Yeah, I wonder. Who knows.
My Brain: Just stop. You have been awkward enough for one day.
Me: [Looking around store.]
Manager: Well, look around. Let me know if you need help with anything. [walks away]
I bet there are a lot of people out there who talk about me at the dinner table. They usually have stories that begin with, “So, I had the weirdest customer/patient/client today.” You just know that manager Shari sat down to dinner with her friends and/or family later and said, “You guys, do I have therapist written across my forehead, or what?” Sorry, Shari!