Overcoming Embarassment
A few weeks ago, I wanted to rent a movie that I had heard was good from one of my favorite blogs, www.gofugyourself.com. Unfortunately, when I went to my local Blockbuster, I had difficulty finding The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. I searched high and low, in New Releases, Comedy, and Family, but to no avail.
I had balked at seeing the movie initially, despite its above-average reviews, namely because I thought nothing good could come from a title that included the phrase 'traveling pants.' I couldn't imagine walking up to the ticket counter at the movie theater and saying it out loud. Likewise, I was too embarassed at Blockbuster to ask the friendly employees where I might find the film, and left empty-handed.
(I went back the next day and met success by looking on the 'Drama' shelf; the movie was amazing and you should watch it when you get the chance.)
Despite my delight at finally locating the cloying, girly tale of 4 BFF, I could barely look the checkout guy in the eye while I was paying for the rental. It brought back unpleasant memories of the movie-snob employees at Vision Video in Athens sneering at my entertainment selections. I felt a reaction similar to the one I feel whenever saleswomen at upscale boutiques look down their noses at my scruffy attire, which is a desire to scream, 'DUDE, you work in RETAIL!'
This is why I love shopping online, especially at iTunes. Nobody knows about my bad or bizarre tastes; my face may turn a little red when I see that they're recommending 'George Michael's Greatest Hits' based on my past purchases, but that's before I take them up on their offer to buy the album for $9.95. And then I ruin the chance to conceal this appalling taste in music when I gloat about my purchase of the Spanish verson of Enrique's 'Hero,' or put *NSync's 'Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays' on a non-Christmas mix CD I make for a friend.
I had balked at seeing the movie initially, despite its above-average reviews, namely because I thought nothing good could come from a title that included the phrase 'traveling pants.' I couldn't imagine walking up to the ticket counter at the movie theater and saying it out loud. Likewise, I was too embarassed at Blockbuster to ask the friendly employees where I might find the film, and left empty-handed.
(I went back the next day and met success by looking on the 'Drama' shelf; the movie was amazing and you should watch it when you get the chance.)
Despite my delight at finally locating the cloying, girly tale of 4 BFF, I could barely look the checkout guy in the eye while I was paying for the rental. It brought back unpleasant memories of the movie-snob employees at Vision Video in Athens sneering at my entertainment selections. I felt a reaction similar to the one I feel whenever saleswomen at upscale boutiques look down their noses at my scruffy attire, which is a desire to scream, 'DUDE, you work in RETAIL!'
This is why I love shopping online, especially at iTunes. Nobody knows about my bad or bizarre tastes; my face may turn a little red when I see that they're recommending 'George Michael's Greatest Hits' based on my past purchases, but that's before I take them up on their offer to buy the album for $9.95. And then I ruin the chance to conceal this appalling taste in music when I gloat about my purchase of the Spanish verson of Enrique's 'Hero,' or put *NSync's 'Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays' on a non-Christmas mix CD I make for a friend.
1 Comments:
I made the mistake one time at Vision Video by our place of asking one of the more pale employees for a recommendation in the Wooday Allen section. I think he thought we were boyfriend girlfriend after that glorious 20 min he spent telling me the merits of each film.
I would always get my "Sex and the City" rental with an art film to cover for my shame. I understand...I really do.
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