Saturday Morning

We went “out” this morning to do a few errands. One of those was stopping at the mall to exchange some house slippers I had gotten for Christmas that were too small. The wife also had some things to buy in a department store there. While I was unsuccessful with the slipper exchange (they didn’t have the right size), it wasn’t a total loss. We saw a friend from the community where we used to live and chatted a minute or two. I perused the little shops in the public areas of the mall and wondered how anyone possibly could make any kind of a living selling some of the things they were selling. And I encountered all kinds of people.
I encountered the gamut of men from homeless men to dads who had their kids for the weekend (they’re not hard to spot) to other men who were waiting on their wives to finish shopping just as I was.
There were teens who (and I admit I don’t really know) appeared to not have a clue or care, young mothers pushing strollers, texters, trollers (mostly girls 12 to 15), strollers (who were walking for exercise), the requisite saggers (both male and female) and those who looked like they were angry with the world. There were women in gawd-awful get-ups with heels and others who were nicely attired. Older women were, it seemed, more of the nicely attired group, though there were one or two of that age who looked like they really wanted to be 17 again.
Some men were following their women; others were leading. A few (like me) were just standing around. Sales clerks helped those people who came by and feigned interest, and one even asked me if I was being helped (I’m so beyond help…) as I looked at the watches in a display case.
“I’m just killing time waiting on my wife,” I said with a little embarrassment. I moved on fairly quickly to a corner and just stood there for awhile trying to blend in. Noticing, after a time, that I was in the cosmetics department and probably wouldn’t blend in there in the next hundred years or so, I moved on out to the store entrance.
The wife called just a few minutes after that and we found each other and went on to the next thing. On the way out, I looked at the tattoo parlor, the candy store, the jewelry store, the underwear place (Victoria’s Secret), the book store, the electronics retailer, the import market, the tobacco outlet, and all of the clothing stores and wondered to myself if there was enough money in Wichita to keep all of these places in business. I also went past the little shops set up in the court area… the calendar place, the cell phone place, the shirt place, the massage place, the knock-off perfume place, the hat place, the ink cartridge refill place (yeah, I’ll certainly think of the mall first to get my cartridges refilled or get a tattoo), and the 18 other places on our way out. I wondered if there was enough interest on the part of the public to patronize these places to the extent that they were all here and going to be successful. I just can’t imagine that could possibly be the case.
I dunno, though. Maybe the dames in the heels need the massage parlor. Maybe the saggers need tattoos to cover what their clothes don’t. And maybe those who are angry with it all could use something positive from the bookstore or a new calendar. On that thought, maybe the mall and its inhabitants were made for each other. That may be why I felt somewhat uncomfortable in there.