Dang monkeys

Have I got a story for you...
As you all know, I'm no stranger to utter embarrassment. In fact, Embarrassment, Humiliation, and I are best friends... a perfect tri-fecta. And because I use self-deprecation as a coping mechanism to keep myself from going crazy, you guys are the winner here. Prepare yourself for this one.

I've desperately needed to go shopping for awhile, so last night I went to Kohl's. It was one of those days where I just couldn't find anything I liked. After finding nothing in the clothing department, I went upstairs to look over the shoes. I stuck out in that department too, so I decided to call it a night and leave. I went back to the elevator I had just come up ten minutes earlier and discovered it was broken. The door wouldn't close because some idiot buying tons of over-stuffed monkeys (?) apparently got one stuck in the door.

A store employee with a thick accent was in the process of taping a sign on the elevator door and nearly had a fit when she saw me. "Don't get in it!" she cried. "You'll get stuck!" I wasn't even considering getting in it. I asked how I was supposed to leave. She called the store manager who explained that they had no freight elevator and proceeded to poke the wire hanging down for about five minutes. Finally, he went away to call the emergency repair technician. "It was 2 days before the last technician fixed it," the store employee explained, which made me feel SO much better about the situation.

He came back a few minutes later and said he left a message for the technician. Oh, and he called the fire department because, hey, if they can get a cat out of a tree, surely they can get a chick in a wheelchair off the second floor of Kohl's. Sure enough. Ten minutes later, the firemen in full gear came tromping back to help me. For a split second, I thought they might fix the elevator, but that passed. "Yep, it's broken," one said. "Ready for a ride?"

Their plan was to go to the escalators in the middle of the store and find a way to transport me down it. After voicing my uncertainty at the brilliance of their plan, one tried to assume me. "We're professionals," he said. "But this is actually a first for us," said the other. Great.

So the store manager stopped the escalator and told all the people who were wanting to go down it to wait. The firemen moved me to a chair and picked it up like I was a queen on a throne... actually, it was more like I was a protester at an abortion clinic being loaded into a paddywagon. They walked me down the escalator. The guy in the front was a bit lower so I kept pitching forward. In my head, I kept picturing me flying forward on top of him and the both of us lying in a heap at the bottom. Call me ridiculously petty, but in an embarrassing situation like this, I'd prefer the fire department to send out the ugly firemen, not the smokin' hotties. Say what you will about the luck of having hot firemen carry you down stairs. You're wrong.

Meanwhile, other shoppers are going up the other escalator, some carefully watching my unholy descent, others pretending everything's normal. Like they have no idea there's a fire engine sitting outside and that wobbly girl in the two firemen's grasp passing happens every time they shop at Kohl's.

In the end, I'm returned to my chair. The hot fireman whisk themselves away. And I'm given a $15 dollar gift card for my inconvenience. That's $15, not $50. Cheap bastards? Hey, that what I said. I left as soon as I could. I'm not shopping there until my embarrassment has worn off. What makes it so much worse is that I didn't even buy anything. I hate coming home with nothing. Nothing but a crap story. I know it could've been worse. They could've thrown me over their shoulders like a sack of potatoes, butt first. Imagine that.