First stop was Belk’s at Southpark where I originally bought the jeans I was wearing about 20+ pounds ago. I wanted the same jeans a size smaller. (Not Your Daughter’s Jeans–Oprah recommends them. Me, too.) Belk’s doesn’t carry them in petites anymore–go figure. But a nice sales clerk said that Nordstrom’s has them. At this point I usually just go home and mope, but Steve dragged me to Nordstroms.
On the way we stopped at Anthropologie–You guys realize that Target is my normal store of choice, so this was a reat treat for me. We bought some knobs for the china cabinet my friend Jennie gave me. (Her mom’s which had been in her garage for years.) Love the knobs, but enjoyed the salesclerk even more.
She had a fit over my charm necklace and we talked about charm bracelets and why you never wear them. I told her where to find Bead Lush and I have no doubt she will soon visit and make her own necklace. Debbie Crane has really started a new trend. I left the store feeling so happy at the interaction.
Got to Nordstrom’s; found petites; found my jeans. They now come in colors. Steve insisted I buy 2 pair–black and dark denim. Who am I to argue? Besides he doesn’t want to do this shopping thing again any time soon.
Another saleclerk–”OMG, where do you get your nails done?” She ws new in town and her hands were wrecked. Like me she can’t grow any length nail. We commiserated and I gave her Kim’s name at Fancy Nails and Jewelry, Kings Point on Kings Drive. I’ve gone there for 10 or more years. We discusses gel vs tips, etc. and we laughed a lot. This just made my day.
I skipped back through the mall to the car.
You just never know when a quick smile or a genuine compliment to someone will have a huge effect–even change a life.
Knitters encourage each other all the time with questions and praise. This is what makes us such a special community.
I guess I’m saying–spread it to the rest of the world————–and thank you to three salesclerks who made my day productive and very happy just by their positive, helpful attitudes
You just never know . . . .