Clothing Optional

Last Friday Ben, our other friend Ben, and I went to Ross Dress For Less to find some last-minute clothes for the weekend wedding we were attending. Ben desperately needed some button up shirts that fit and I was on the prowl for a dress. The problem with me on the prowl is that I typically have a specific style, if not color, and price that I'm looking for, and I expect to find it in one trip. At Ross, no less. Because obviously the outfit I just designed in my head should exist in the store a block away. That seems reasonable, right?

Anyway, I'm in the dressing room trying on a few options when I find this cute A-line dress that has a distinct 50's vibe, which is exactly what I'm looking for, albeit made of wool, so not summer-wedding friendly. But it might make a great winter dress! I decide to ask Ben for a second opinion, so I scurry out of the dress and back into my clothes to go find him upstairs. He and Baby Shaq (our nickname for the other Ben, so as not to confuse the two) have found some good shirt prospects and I ask him to come see the dress. He agrees and I go back downstairs to try the dress on again. Once I'm zipped up, I come out to find him....but he's nowhere to be found. So, I wait.

And I wait.

And I wait.

And I start thinking about the choice words I will share with him once he finally shows up.

Finally, I get fed up with waiting and decide to run upstairs, still wearing the dress, to find him. Up I go, but he and Baby Shaq are nowhere in sight. Back down I go, thinking he may have finally shown up, but alas, no Ben. Fuming somewhat, I return to my dressing room only to find that someone else has grabbed it. Sigh. This night is getting better and better. So, I wait.

And I wait.

And I wait.

And I start thinking about some more choice words that I'll share with Ben, because, clearly, this is all his fault.

Finally, I get fed up with waiting again and call out to everyone in the dressing room, "Anyone see a brown skirt and yellow top?" No answer. Awesome.

So, I pace.

And I pace.

And I pace some more, waiting for people to come out of the dressing rooms because by now I'm not really sure which room was mine, as they all look alike.

Did I mention I'm still wearing the Ross 50's style dress? It is cute, but I'm starting to associate all my frustrations from the night to the dress and now I HATE it. I just want to put my own clothes back on and go home and grab dinner. It's 8:45 for pete's sake! (Did I also mention that I get grumpy when I'm hungry?)

Out of boredom I walk back out to the front of the dressing room and will wonders never cease, there is Ben and Baby Shaq! FINALLY. So, I show the dress off to Ben, give a little twirl, and wait for his reaction. He replies, "Sure, it's fine. Get it if you want."

Blink.

Blink.

THIS is the response I've been waiting for? Give me a break. I tell him I no longer want the dress, and he says, "Ok, whatever. Get dressed and we'll head out." I explain how that's a lovely idea, but there's a small problem since I CAN'T GET TO MY (designer hand-me-down) CLOTHES. He's flabbergasted that someone took my room and I roll my eyes at him, trying to convey that really, none of this would have happened had he simply shown up like he said he would (BTW: he waited for me at the upstairs dressing rooms. The dressing rooms on the floor where there are no clothes for women.)

So, the three of us wait.

And wait.

And finally some gal comes out with my skirt and top on hangers. "That's mine!" I exclaim. I grab the clothes from her as she's handing them back to the dressing room attendant, excited to finally change back. As I take the hangers, something catches my eye. What's that on the tag? I bring the skirt closer to get a better look...and you want to know what I find?

My clothes have ROSS TAGS ON THEM.

What?! How...when...who...what do you mean my clothes have Ross tags on them?! ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME? I verbalize all these things to Ben, Baby Shaq, and the dressing room attendant. The guys look at me in disbelief and the dressing room attendant gives me a look that says, "Yeah, right, crazy lady. Sure these are your clothes. Thieves these days! They're so stupid."

So proceeds another 10 minutes or so of us trying to convince the Ross employees that I am, in fact, not trying to steal their clothes, I simply want mine back so I can go home. I point to my color-coordinated jewelry. I offer them to smell my pits and compare the smell to the clothes. I suggest they check the security footage to see what I came into the store wearing. I ask if they would prefer that I walk out of their store in my bra and panties. I say everything I can think of to prove my case. Because I refuse to buy back my OWN CLOTHES. Finally they are convinced, remove the tags, and let me change. That's when I realize my necklace is also missing, since I took it off to try on the dress. I ask Baby Shaq to go look in the jewelry cases, half expecting it to be tagged and on display. But it seems like this item was stolen. Which is sad, since it was a gift from a Cambodian friend. Sigh.

In the end, I get *most* of my items back, we buy Ben a shirt, and high tale it out of Ross, grab some Subway, and laugh at the preposterousness of the whole ordeal for the rest of the evening.

The moral of the story? Marry a guy who knows where the ladies dressing rooms are in Ross.