can you say it again? only louder and more slowly?

On Saturday morning, Mr. KK and I hit the stores with the rest of the crazy people.

Our first stop was Target, so I could stock up on half-priced Christmas goodies for next year.

Our second stop was the mall, so that I could exchange something from my Mom.

(Sweetly, she thinks I'm a size smaller than I actually am. When I told her this she replied, "Well the sweater I got you just looked so big I thought for sure it would fit." Thanks, Mom.)

So I'm standing in line at The Loft, listening to the guy behind the counter talk about himself. He's going on and on about how he's working in women's retail for over 20 years, how much he loves it and how good at it he is, and how he went to school to be a stylist. Really? You went to school to be a stylist and you're working the Return Line at the mall on the day after Christmas? Might want to reign in the ego a bit, dude.

So it's my turn (finally!) and the nice woman helps me with my exchange. I also have a top from Mr. KK's aunt that is a bit too long.

KK: "Can you scan this to see if it's crazy on sale? I know everything is marked down, and if it is I'll ask her for the receipt. I didn't see it anywhere in the store, so there's a chance it's from The Loft outlet and I'll take it back."

She scans the sweater with no luck.

SALESWOMAN: "It's not in our system. And I don't even recognize it."

KK: "No worries. I'm sure it's from the outlet. I'll just take it back."

SALESWOMAN: "No, wait, let me check for you. Stephen, is this top one of ours?"

The retail douchebag dances over from his register and pulls his Gucci glasses down his nose to inspect my sweater.

DB: "Oh no. This sweater is from the outlet," he says to her with disdain. Then – using only 2 fingers to touch my sweater like it's covered in swine flu – he tosses my sweater towards me. "We can't touch this sweater."

SALESWOMAN: "Okay, thanks. That's what she thought. I was just checking."

Then, Stephen the DB looks up at me. "You need to return that at the outlet. We don't take their merchandise here."

For a second I feel a little like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, only more like a criminal.

Then, I got royally pissed off.

KK: "Thanks. No problem."

DB: "It's from the ouuutleeeet." His annunciation skills are wonderful. "The outlet is a different store."

Okay. That's it.

KK: "Yes, I know where the outlet is, Stephen."

I grab my sweater and walk out the store.

Of-freaking-course, the door alarm goes off, completely ruining my 'stomping-off-in-anger' show.

I walk back to the desk to overhear my saleswoman and Stephen taking.

SALESWOMAN: "She wasn't trying to return it here. She thought it was from the outlet to begin with."

STEPHEN THE DB: "Well, you never know. These people come in here and try to return stuff they shouldn't...you never can tell..."

Stephen turns around to find he's face to face with...ME.

He smiles embarrassingly.

I raise one eyebrow.

KK: "Hi, again, Stephen."

Busted.