If I’m guilty of one thing, it’s buyer’s remorse, indecisiveness, or straight up “I like to bug the people at the return desk.”
I’m notorious for purchasing something, then wanting to return it… Or actually returning it.
Last week I found a fun set of earrings at the classy Tar-jey (said with French accent) and walked around the store with them in my little red riding hood basket. I was shopping with a gift card, so I sort-of blew the money quickly. A sports bra, and a bright nail polish later, I checked out.
Sitting in my car, I put the earrings in. They had the backs that pinch too hard, and although they were fake diamonds, they wound up looking bigger than my head. It’s as if I was screaming, “Hi, my name is Caitlin, and I’m trying really hard to look like I own gigantically huge diamond earrings. No, they’re real, I promise… That’s why I’m wearing gym clothes. I sold all my belongings to be able to afford these.” (Yes, I wear gym clothes while shopping. Before the gym, never after.)
The next day on my lunch hour, I returned the earrings.
A week later, I discovered the best lip balm in the entire world. I can’t share my discovery, but let’s just say it’s very expensive for lip balm, and I’m waiting until I have a new job to buy it. I promise, it’s worth it. What’s not worth my money is the three dollars I spent on a Softlips brand balm that I thought (based on the ingredients) would replicate my heaven-like balm. One swipe across my lips, and I spit on my shirt then rubbed it off my lips. Dis-gus-ting.
Didn’t even make it to the car before I marched back into the store to return it.
Shoes, gym shorts, (unworn, tags attached) Nalgene bottles, you name it, I’ve bought it, and subsequently returned it.
My sister is even worse than me. If we are together, she makes ME return something for her. I’m not afraid. I march in with a “this was a gift, I didn’t like it,” or “I picked up the wrong one, and I’m in a hurry. I’l come back later to get the right one.”
I’m a genious at returns!
If any of you are psychologists, please spare me. I’m sure I am showing signs of emotional shopping and returning disorder… Or addictive shopping personality, but I can’t help it. I guess it just gives me something to do.
Thankfully we just moved to a different state, because I was getting rather sick of entering said Tar-jey and hearing, “Welcome back, Caitlin” from the staff at customer service. They might be equally as sick of me, but at least I keep them employed.