I used to have good luck finding clothes at TJ Maxx from time to time, but I had the strangest experience the last time I went. There was a line for the dressing rooms, and if you’ve ever been there, you know that there’s an attendant who gives you a number indicating how many items you’re bringing in. Well, I was up next, and the attendant, while busying herself with hangers, was mumbling, “I only need one. I only need one.” I assumed she was talking to herself, but then she gestured to me in exasperation, like she’d been summoning me. So I approached her hesitantly, and she said, “I only have three.” I’m sure I cocked my head and furrowed my brow because I didn’t understand, so she repeats herself, “I only have three,” and she starts mumbling about other numbers. There’s a four, and a one again. But she acts like I should know what she’s talking about, and I’m so confused, I’m squinting at her, and I’m trying so hard to understand that my mouth is open. No one has ever paid such close attention to this lady as I am paying in this moment. I have three items, and she isn’t counting them or handing me a number, so I just take a guess: “Should I just go in then?” And she says, “No!” So at least that’s clear. But then she says, “I just have three,” again, and she sticks her hand out impatiently, like she’d been waiting for me to hand my hangers over. She counts them, hands me a three, and gestures me away from her, saying, “You can have three.” I’m still squinting, trying desperately to get a handle on what’s going on, and I think maybe she’s saying I can take my three items in, but it’s not a perfect explanation. I wonder if it’s some kind of Tourette’s, where things are just coming out of her mouth, and maybe she’s deaf, so she doesn’t know what’s actually coming out because I’ve never heard of a disorder where you think you’re saying, “Next,” but what you’re actually saying is, “I only need one.” I don’t think I’ve ever been this confused, not even when I was a kid and my mom wouldn’t let me sing Brick House because it was a curse word. But then I realize that above one of the curtains is the number three. Three was the only room available, so she only “had” three. I felt both stupid and relieved, yet there’s still so much I don’t understand about that interaction that now I just go to Dillard’s where you have to wander for an hour to find an employee; but I could load up a burro with items from the racks and take it into a dressing room, and nary a number would be uttered. It might be harder to find a bargain there, but the peace inside my head is priceless.
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