And the Shopping Gods Smiled Upon Her

Setting: Marshall Field Warehouse Sale

Time: Due the vampire circadian rhythm problem and the stop at Starbucks, 8:15 a.m. (plus did not have to wait in the line)

Amid the young families, B-ham mother/daughter teams, and over-dressed 70 year olds, the Shopping Gods smiled and then presented an ottoman. It was exactly what I was looking for, same brand as my other furniture.

I had eyed it at the clearance center several times, coming back once every two months to watch the price fall. But the price never went below $150, which is what I paid for the chair, so I could never bring myself to buy it. Then I would go sit in my chair and really wish that I had bought the damn ottoman. So I was committed to spending the $150 this time, if I found one.

There it was . . . with the other orphaned ottomans, with no one else sitting on it or leaping toward it. I sat down, Starbucks in hand, and turned over the price tag. $97.50, first and only mark down, brand-spankin' new. I then physically picked up ottoman, which was awkward with the latte and the purse.

Now everyone has a part to play at the MF warehouse sale . . . they do not multi-task. The write-up people only do write-ups on little clipboards, the cashiers only do (as Z would say) cashierin' and the mover men only move things. You cannot pay for the ottoman perched on your knee as you struggle to hold on to it and your coffee unless you have a write-up. The cashiers are only cashierin', they will not put a sold sticker on the shiny ottoman. Okay, put the ottoman down near a write-up person. Wait as rabid shoppers eye your ottoman (and the couch that was convenient to sit on) and snarl. Get foot run over by three strollers. Tackle the write-up person before anyone else gets her, ottoman in tow. Physically carry ottoman to mover men, who then do not want to take the ottoman with the big pink "pickup today" sticker. Cajole mover men into taking ottoman to loading dock.

I then continue to shop. I now need nothing. My life is semi-complete. My feet will be up while watching T.V. I was below my budget. Life is good. And then . . . there was the chair. Lovely black leather cigar chair. Better leather than my other furniture (I have the "Simply Living" Leather set, this chair was not simply) and a recliner. Not my favorite of the genre . . . it has this headrest in the back that pops up, which is "just more to break" as my Grandpa B would say. But I look at the price. The tag says originally $499, which I know is wrong, it's a least a $1000 chair. The markdown is . . . get this . . . $179. I have clothing that cost more than that.

Now one should always bring a "sitter" to the warehouse sale, preferably one without any agenda of their own. That way they will not wander off when you find best deal in the house. I, however, had no sitter. So I had to sit in the chair and try to get the write-up person to come to me. I also had to beat off a man (with a life partner) with my purse. He came up, while I've got my big butt planted in the chair, and was fiddling with the price tag. "This is a really great deal", he said. "I know. That's why I'm buying it." I think he was seriously considering wrestling me for it but instead backed off two rows, still watching, waiting to pounce if I got up. After a lot of gesturing, I was finally written-up and was able to stand.

I looked for an orphan mattress for my trundle in the guestroom but there were only sets. I then waited in the cashier line for an hour and a half (evidently there is no fast cashierin'). The chair was originally $1750, the ottoman $460. The Shopping Gods are very benevolent today. I, somehow, am their favorite girl.

Mr. Crabbypants and my mother were nice enough to meet me at my house to help me get the chair inside. The back leg needs to be fixed (didn't notice that but . . . it was cheap) and Mr. Crabbypants told me what to do to fix it. I'm sure it was dropped when it was delivered the first time. I will now have to make an offering to the Shopping Gods . . . as I now have more places to sit.