Yesterday I went to Ross Dress for Less. It was supposed to be a relaxing outing, one in which I enjoyed the immersive wonders of glorious bargains. Not even yet TO the store, however, I encountered an omen in the form of this event:

An ambulance came wailing along from behind. I, along with both lanes of Wilshire east-bound traffic on the block on which I was driving, pulled over to the right. The ambulance went on by us. And THEN a green Jeep Cherokee, which was behind the ambulance, came along. Did the driver pause to allow these two lanes of people on my block to return to our lanes and proceed? Um, not quite. Instead, he blew past us, forcing ALL OF US to remain pulled over so that he could use this opportunity to advance himself ahead of us. Nice. Luckily for the vigilante spirit in all of you reading this, we wound up side-by-side at the next traffic light. And yes, he got the bird. And yes, he was probably all, “What the—what’s that for?!” But I felt somehow relieved, having transmitted rage.

But oh, this was only the beginning of my nightmarish outing! Once in Ross, I browsed and shopped and found many delightful bargains. Among them was a blue shirt with a puppy on it. On the tag was the brand name: STEVE! It was so very cute, and so very fun-PJ-ish, and I tried it on in the dressing room and everything. It was a “Wanted” item!

Among my other intended purchases was a pair of PJ shorts, the tag to which read, “Two-piece Set.” Since the shorts were solo on the hanger, I searched high and low for another “set.” What I found were three more pairs of the same shorts, all also solo on hangers. I tried asking someone on the floor for help with this situation; she said only the people “up front” could help me.

So “up front” I went, with my marvelous finds and my credit card. Here, the cashier told me she’s not allowed to sell one piece of a two-piece set. I explained my search for coupled PJs and my discovery of several pairs of the same shorts by themselves. She called the manager over. At first, he was reluctant. I insisted that I had made a sincere effort to find the shorts’ partner top in his PJ department. Finally, he marked down the shorts, saying, “But you won’t be able to return them.” OK, fine, Dude.

But THEN the heartbreak … turns out it had escaped my notice that the “Steve” brand puppy shirt was ALSO sporting a “Two-piece Set” tag. Oh NO!!! The cashier looked at it carefully and then called the manager again. This time, no amount of argument from me would convince him to sell me this shirt. “We’re not allowed to sell one piece alone,” he said, and TOOK MY SHIRT FROM THE COUNTER AND HUNG IT BEHIND THE REGISTER IN A SPECIAL NOOK!

I said, “I looked for other colors of this shirt, so I can tell you there aren’t any others back there. In sets or alone.”

He said, “We just got in a bunch of PJs. We have ten days to match them tops to bottoms.”

I said, “Well, it seems like while you’re working on that, they maybe shouldn’t be out on the racks. Anyway, I will pay the two-piece price. I didn’t know it was part of a set, so I was prepared to pay the price on the tag for it. When you find the bottoms, you can just throw them away for me.”

He still said no!

I couldn’t help my growing anger. “You mean that I went to all the trouble of trying on this shirt and deciding against other items, and I want this shirt today, and I can’t buy it, but you might sell it to someone else tomorrow morning when you get your act together in the PJ department?”

Nope, no shirt for me.

“So wait, you put things out on the racks, and the customer is taunted by these items—made to think she can actually, oh, PURCHASE them—and it’s not true, because your store can’t manage to match the tops to the bottoms?”

“Sometimes the customers mix them up,” he said. (This was clearly not the case. All three pairs of striped shorts? The customers?)

“Not my fault! Not my problem! I want this shirt. Sell it to me.”

Nope.

So I got his store number and his name, etc. And as I’m leaving, he has the nerve to say, “When you call to complain, please tell them how I let you buy the shorts.”

As IF! “Oh, why don’t you fill them in on that part?” I said, huffing out of there. (Steve cringed when I told him this part, so I recognize that I should probably be embarrassed about my behavior, but somehow I’m just not.)

I realize this guy was just trying to do his job, to follow company policy, and now that I’ve calmed down, I have better things to do with my time than to get him in trouble, or to try and influence Ross’ PJ protocol. I even recognize now how petty all of this is. A PJ shirt sent me over the edge? Really? But even now, 16 hours later, I wish I had that shirt in my possession, and I’m still mad at that stupid manager, who obviously COULD have sold me my shirt (since he sold me the shorts), and didn’t. But perhaps he has severe OCD, and unmatched tops and bottoms torture him in ways I can’t imagine. Maybe I should have gone easier on him.