Do you have a plain bag?

So I’m not militant about this, but I prefer not to live as a walking advertisement.  In general I do not spend my money on t-shirts that have a company name.  I also have a strong sense that my purchases communicate values, so I communicate with those with whom I do business – much to the mortification of a teenager near and dear to me.

Today this looked like this:

The roomy fitting room had a bench, but the staff person said a second person is not allowed to go in.

As I smiled, I commented, “If parents are the ones making the purchases, maybe some hospitality could be extended.”

Another mother in a separate fitting room from her daughter piped up her related comments.

He smiling said, “It’s not up to me.”

I understandingly nodded, and said, “Yes, I know, but maybe you can pass on the comment.”

The teen I was with chose to be deaf to my comments.

Then we waited in a lengthy line for check out.  A big sale was on, and we had found jeans that fit 50% off.  No small feat.  I had plenty of time to notice that the bags from the store had shirtless young men or a couple expressing affection better expressed by married people in private.  So when the clerk begins to bag the purchases, I asked, “Do you have a plain bag?”  Poor young man, he looked befuddled at me, looked for someone to help him, and then told me these are the only bags I have.  Teen behind me is making noises that mean I beg you not to mortify me.

I looked for a comment card.  None available.

I would have asked for a manager, but at the moment the teen was more important to me.

From what I am told, I am one in a million customers who would even care.  I do care.  I don’t want anyone exploited – even a now well off Californian young man, but apparently not enough to forget the on sale jeans.

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