Nudity.

Remember being little and wanting to dress up as a cowboy or princess or maybe you were the kind of kid who thought clothes were overrated and preferred running around naked? I was the latter, of course. Except I did not like to go barefoot. I always had to have shoes on, always. I was not the kind of kid who liked to dress up.

Princess dresses were for girls, and I was not a girl - I was a TOMBOY. I liked to play hard outside and climb trees in the woods and ride my bike until the sun went down. This, I think, is a lost kind of childhood. Today's kids are glued to phones and computers and game systems. It's just sad.

But I digress. I don't like to dress up. Knowing this, I applied for my retail position at RH because I knew it meant stocking shelves, and unloading the truck, and greeting guests with a plastered smile for long periods of time. Manageable stuff. Until S told us, one fine day, that if we were truly going to make our sales quota every day, we should probably WEAR THE CLOTHES WE SELL AROUND THE STORE.

Wait, this is a joke right? A joke, haha? Um.

So, I did what every good employee should do and I listened to my manager EVEN THOUGH SHE HAD NO IDEA WHAT SHE WAS TALKING ABOUT. She told me to wear the heavy, ugly shawls around the store and pretend I was a model.

Uh, S, SINCE WHEN DID WE ALL SIGN UP TO BE MODELS? All I want to do is ask people how their food was and leave them in peace. I don't want to prance or waltz around the store wearing a heavy, gaudy shawl that DRAGS ON THE FLOOR SINCE I'M SHORT. I don't think people will buy shawls from a girl who drags the shawls around the store and collects dustballs. It's just unsanitary. We also wore scarves and hats, as if snow were blowing in from the air vents. One minute I was cold, the next I was having a mid-life crisis and hot flashes. Good grief.

The kicker, though, was what we had to wear recently. Our new anal manager, T, decided we would all look cute if we traded our brown name-ridden aprons, for JUNE CLEAVER HOUSEWIFE APRONS, while, of course, we sampled apple crisp and apple butter to increasingly hungry guests. There are several issues I have with wearing these 1950s flowery things.

First of all, I don't want to be seen as or referred to as a HOUSEWIFE. If you know me at all, you know that this term is slightly more offending then being called a MOTHER. I've just barely come to terms with the fact that I drive a SOCCER MOM VAN. Second of all, these aprons are ugly. I would rather wear my normal brown and try to blend in with the crowd. Third of all, have I mentioned they are housewife-y?

Needless to say, I think we could really meet our daily merchandise quota if we all walked around naked. I'm going to drop this idea into the suggestions box, see what happens at the next meeting.