In the [Old] Navy

I went to my first ever Old Navy store yesterday, and what a terrifying experience. It looked like your average Wal-Mart store ten minutes before closing on December 24th... except with more women than men. I'm fairly certain it would have degenerated into a Lord of the Flies-like situation very quickly were it not for the headset-wearing staff, who looked to be literally directing traffic when indicating where the lines for the checkouts and fitting rooms started.

But none of this is really important; what is important is that I was vainly searching for a pair of jeans. It doesn't sound like a difficult task, but when your size happens to be the North American average (yeah, I've gotten fat... now fuck off), looking for pants in a crowded store becomes absolutely Darwinian. I couldn't find any, and neither could the very tall woman standing next to me looking for the same size... I eventually spotted the correct size, but in the "tall" length. So I handed them to the woman, who said "Wow, you're like a professional shopper!" I then enlisted the help of one of the headset-wearers who also had limited success. She eventually handed me a pair in the right size and length, but the wrong style. "Aren't these flared instead of boot cut?" I asked her. She looked at them and said, "Hey, you're right. You know these better than I do!"

So anyway, I didn't get any jeans, but I've decided that I was born to sell them. Since there's no Old Navy here, I'm gonna apply for a job at American Eagle this week. I like most of their clothes and they don't play techno music in their stores, which is about as good as its going to get at this point I think.

In other news, no word from Planned Parenthood. This worries me because at any of the organizations I've ever volunteered for in the past, whenever anyone expressed interest in helping out we were on them like sharks who smelled blood in the water. How bad is it when I can't even give my labour away for free?