One word. One shop assistant. One moment I'll never forget.

Whimsy on a Wednesday!

It was only a month after Christmas so I was rather wrung out. Or, it could be that I’m getting somewhat forgetful in my older years, I don’t know. All I know is that I won’t be going back to that shop again for a while.

When most people are packing away Christmas and getting ready to calm the hell down after a month of shopping/eating/cleaning/being nice to people all the festivities, I’m not. No. I have to start again because I have a lot of birthdays in January and they are for key people in my life. This means I can’t go getting anything in the sale, or adding to Christmas gifts, or looking like I’ve not made a spectacular effort. I have to go above and beyond. When everybody else is moaning about how long and boring January is, I’m speeding through it with an empty purse, a full credit card, and a banging headache. I can’t wait until pancake day is over so I can have a rest.

“What are you giving up for Lent, Jules?”

“People.”

The Backlash

I went into a well known chemist / beauty store to buy a small gift to add to the other endless ones on the list. A very nice mascara that promised length and durability. Blink and you could kill someone. I stood at the display looking for this brand in the right colour. I was having a devil of a job trying to find the one that wasn’t waterproof so the recipient wouldn’t have to go through four buckets of micellar water to get the stuff off. I have known people wait for their eyelashes to fall out instead of going through the cleaning hell that leaves them nearly blind. The vanity game is not for the weak willed.

All of a sudden and straight away I heard a voice at the side of me and I jumped to see a sales assistant standing nearby.

“Are you looking for a mascara?”

“Well, yes but…”

“Number 7 have brought a new one out and it’s absolutely amazing. Super length, not clumpy, glorious coating.”

“But this one…”

“And, it’s got the slimline wand, just like the one you’re looking at.”

“It’s just that...”

“LOOK AT MY EYE!”

I jumped in shock when I actually looked at the lady’s eye, mostly because it violently stood out from its naked companion. It was like comparing a tarantula to a midge.

“I only did one eye. You see…”

Yes, I can see that. Incredible. Truly. However, I know the person I’m buying it for specifically wants this one, otherwise I’d give it a go.”

“There’s £3.00 off today. And I can assure you, she won’t be disappointed.”

Hmm, you don’t know my family

I decided to throw caution to the wind and take a chance. The fact the lady was walking around with one giant lashed eye magnified by glasses was enough to make me recognise this was someone taking their job seriously.

She took me to the counter so I could pay for the item, with a lovely discount, and be on my way.

A dare in the head is worth two in the brush

“Do you have a loyalty card?”

“Yes, I do, thank you.”

“And before you go, is there anything else I can help you with?”

I decided to ask if they had another thing on my list. This was a place that was likely to have it.

“Do you have a whore brush?”

“I beg your pardon?!”

“A whore brush?”

Her one giant eye stared at me in disbelief.

“A WHORE brush I said slowly and louder. You know, a whore hair brush. WHORE HAIR!”

For the love of God, why does this woman not know what I’m talking about? She’s happy to coat your lashes but when it comes to the crowning glory, she hasn’t got a scooby-doo.

“WHORE BRUSH. WHORE. WHORE HAIR.”

It was only after saying it out loud several times and not getting an answer that it finally registered that what I was saying was wrong.

VERY. wrong.

I gasped.

“Oh my God I’m so sorry. What on Earth is wrong with me? What I meant to say is boar hair. A boar hair hair brush!”

“I did wonder,” she snipped.

She looked it up on her computer whilst I tried to explain how I got whore mixed up with boar and hair together and I’m dreadfully tired and I did buy a lovely mascara though.

“We don’t have them but they do them at Kiehls for £90.00”

“Ninety quid for a bloody hairbrush? I don’t think so!” What I wanted to say is that it would probably be a lot cheaper if it actually was whore hair but then realised how highly inappropriate that was and it was time for me to shut up. Wrong crowd.

I thanked her for her help, hung my whore head in shame and left the shop.