Niemans Shmiemans

I was shunned by Nieman Marcus, and I didn't like it.

Not one bit.

Is THIS what it's like to be treated like a second class citizen???

While in Chicago (glorious city! LOVED it! Can't wait to go back and not spend 10 hours a day in a windowless conference room in need of an afghan), two coworkers and I snuck out one afternoon to do a little shopping.

It was designer sale time in all of the biggies (Nordstroms, Saks, Niemans) and we were hungry for deals.

First stop: Nieman Marcus.

I've never been to a Neimans before. Macy's, Nordstrom's, Lord & Taylor – I've spend my time in those stores. But never Niemans.

And let me tell you about the SHOES on those sale racks! Prada! Chanel! Choo! I swear I saw the EXACT Manolos that Carrie Bradshaw bought for her big "good-bye" date with Big – the ones she was wearing when Miranda's water broke all over them.

And even though these shoes were on crazy sale, they were still $300, $400 and even $700 a pair. I mean, I love shoes, but I also love to eat. Splurging on shoes and eating canned beans won't cut it for me.

But I did find a very nice pair of Tory Burch gladiator flats (with the cutout signature TB on the front) in a great citrusy orange color. They were beautiful.

I handed them to the (uber stuffy) salesman (I'm sure at Neimans they're not called 'salesman'. It's probably something silly like 'guest service associate' or something ridiculous).

Stuffy McStuffington take the shoes from me (after giving me – and my white jeans and Old Navy sweater – a blatant and distasteful once-over) and asks, "American Express or your Nieman's charge?"

To which I reply (rather hoitily): "Neither."

SMS raises one perfectly-manicured eyebrow and asks, "Oh? Cash, then?"

ME: "Still no."

SMS rolls his eyes and sighs QUITE AUDIBLY and says, "Personal check?" with such a look of horror on his face that I may attempt to use a method of payment that is SO last decade. You might have thought I was going to offer to pay him in cockroaches or dusty sheep.

ME: "I don't have my checkbook."

SMS: "I don't understand."

Really? It seem quite clear. I don't have any of the forms of payment you have mentioned thusfar.

ME: "Visa? MasterCard?"

SMS, that look of disgust back again: "Oh, no. We only accept Neimans and Amex."

And with that, he slid my Tory Burches off the counter and sauntered into the stock room – which I'm sure at Niemans is called a "Supplementary Shoe Solarium".