So we spent a day in South Beach before we boarded our ship last week, and my peeps (I say this because I’m down with the kids, yo) and I divided our time among three activities: looking at men in swimsuits, eating and shopping.
My shopping adventure left me with three fabulous new purchases: some broken-in-looking flip-flops (which immediately bloodied my feet) and two pair of jeans. One pair comes directly from the school of painfully trendy fashion: they sit low on my hips, they give me a bit of a butt (which would be a great name for a jeans store), they have unintelligible words embroidered in large gothic letters on one hip, and they have bleachy crinkles that give these jeans the illusion of being my constant companion throughout a fascinating life of discos, high-class hookers and Hollywood premiers. Best of all, the saleslady gave me 25% off when I waffled over whether or not I should buy them. Lesson learned: Always waffle.
The other pair of jeans came from the Gap on Lincoln Road. They’re basic dark jeans with only a hint of bleachy crinkles. They sit low on my hips. They stay straight and true through the ankle. Just like I like them.
And when I walked out the door with them, I set off the alarm. Now, my policy on store alarms has always been this: I’m not a thief, so if you’re too stupid to remove the tag and too lazy to do anything about it when I set off your alarm, I’m not going to waste a moment pretending to care—unless the offending tag is the kind that forces me to return for a removal, at which time you will feel my inconvenienced non-thief consumer wrath.
And when we got to the hotel and I put on my new jeans to wear on a night out in Miami and there was no tag to be found, I totally forgot about the alarm. Until I started setting off alarms in every fucking store we poked through that evening.
Six hours later when I was finally back in the hotel room and out of my jeans, I turned them inside out to see what had been causing all those goddamn doors to beep. And there I found it: Sewn into a side seam was a fucking built-in alarm tag featuring embroidered words instructing me to cut out the tag before washing or wearing my new jeans.
Dear Gap,
The above story leaves me with a few questions:
1. Why are you sewing alarm tags in your jeans? The clippy ones seem to work just fine for everyone else.
2. Why aren’t your clerks deactivating these tags before they sell your jeans? Do you enjoy having your door alarms go off every time a customer leaves your store? Do you enjoy forcing your customers to trip alarms in every store they enter and exit after they leave you?
3. In the event your clerks can’t deactivate these tags, why aren’t they at least alerting your customers to their presence and instructing them to remove the tags when they get home? It’s not like consumers are in the habit of turning their new clothes inside out in search of boobie traps and hidden deactivation instructions.
4. Why the hell do you suck so much?
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