HOLY CRAP … eight fire extinguishers and four carbon monoxide/smoke detectors are HEAVY and they are going to RUIN my $70 gel mani. I totally think one of my finger nails is going to snap right at the quick. I hobble over to the elevator and use my elbow to press the button.
My purse slides down my shoulder and catches in the crook of my arm. Oof. That was not good. I had all the bags and my purse positioned in place where I could get all of this stuff out of the store. However, one thing moving would throw off my balance. Ugh. The elevator opens, I again use my trusty elbow and rest against the elevator wall. Once I reach the street level, I walk towards the door.
“Excuse me…excuse me…” I have no idea that the security guard is speaking to me, so I continue towards the door. Why would I think he is talking to me? I paid for all my stuff (or well – Town and Country’s stuff) and I am dying under the weight. All I want to do is get the hell out of this store and into a cab. It is not until the security guard has rushed ahead and stopped in front of me. “Excuse me…” he says again – this time, with just a little attitude. “Yes?” I reply with a little more attitude. He looks at me for a minute and then says, “I need to see your receipt.
You have GOT to be FREAKING kidding me with this sh*t … in this moment I feel like a cartoon character with steam coming out of my ears, and my fingers turning red under the weight of plastic bags weighting my arms into the ground. I smack my lips and hand him a bag, he reaches for and lurches forward from the weight. That is ALMOST satisfying. And his face actually softens as I yank the receipt out of the bag.
“Do you need to look through the bags?” I ask as he juggles the bag with 4 fire extinguishers and his highlighter to mark my receipt.
“No, no – here let me help you flag a cab,” he says, opens the store and guides me to the sidewalk. He flags a cab and settles me inside, "Have a nice day,” he says. He shuts the door and the cab takes off to Town and Country’s house.