The Apocalypse and Nordstrom Rack

[The following events are true, and possibly over-dramatized.]

People are mostly insane. I tend to feel this way after a Saturday at the Mall of America. In college, it was easier to go up during the week. All of the strollers weren’t clogging the elevators, kids were at school, and most humans were working instead of making lines and walking against traffic holding hands.

Saturdays at MOA are a strategized shopping. If you think you’re going to free form, you are an amateur; go hang out in Lego Land. Years of experience in the field have taught me how to handle vital situations in effort to save daylight. If you don’t plan, time will literally stop and pull you backward. You will go home with nothing, and you will need to find a newspaper in the parking lot to figure out what day it is (fine…or use your phone…way to support the print industry).

Example situation: determining if a $13 scarf is worth waiting for in a line that extends half way through the store.

Solution: wait to see if your comrade is going to buy something, then commence in a purchase pool. If she doesn’t, abort. There is another scarf in another place in another time (possibly on another planet) that will be a grab and checkout away.

There are some experiences in life you just cannot unexperience. I have never physically been to a Nordstrom Rack store until last weekend. On top of the muddy landslide that is 3:30 on a Saturday at MOA, add a store that is full of ridiculously discounted designer clothing, and a slew of questionable people that may sell body parts for it if that were an option…or just straight up walk out the store with it, like the 14-year old a couple security guys drug past me in the 3-foot aisle. No joke, the alarm went off at least 5 times.

I just wanted a colored leather jacket. The one I was potentially interested in was on a rack being hi-jacked by a family of 4. They seemed to be camping out between racks like it was trench warfare, and were still huddled there when I left the store. The oldest son was resting his head on the jacket I wanted. It was weird.

Not finding much, and having temporarily lost Mindy, I decided to Mario Kart my way to the shoe section, wishing I had a swarming arsenal of red shells. (See, I knew N64 would serve a life purpose….mom.) People seriously do not move. I am a polite and conscientious person, but after ten minutes in Nord-Rack I got the impression it was every man for himself. So, I decided to see what individuals valued their achilles over a Michael Kors coat.

By the time I made it to the size-8 shoe aisle, it was too late. An a-bomb had been dropped. Shoe carnage. Everywhere. There wasn’t a distinguishable pair in sight. I was able to look for only a few seconds before I was overtaken by a wave of anxiety, and the need to puke. So, I wheelchair staggered to the entrance of the store afraid that my last text was going to be, “I’ll be outside.” Only I wouldn’t be there. I would be just another casualty of the Rack.

Disaster Zone

I wish I had the brain to take a picture, because it was absurd. I did find this photo online. However, there aren’t enough shoes on the floor or people laying in them trying on half a pair, but you get the idea.

When it comes to Nordstrom Rack, for your own sanity, I recommend shopping online…or a Tuesday at 8:30 a.m.

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