Have you ever tried making a big purchase since you’ve had kids?
Think about it really hard. Oh my god – have you answered yes? I suppose at some point in your life you have had to. So answer this question now…was it almost as painful as childbirth?
I mean, shopping with kids isn’t exactly enjoyable is it? You all know how I feel about food shopping, but when it comes to anything more important – after all Mr Aimee can always stop off on the way home for gin – it becomes even less enjoyable.
I once went jeans shopping with a small child – mine, not a random one. After the changing room curtain was whipped aside, followed by the words “why is your bottom eating your pants mummy?” were sung in a loud voice, I decided never to go jeans shopping with children again.
In fact, I rarely go clothes shopping with the kids. However, if for some strange reason I ever have to, I have perfected the ‘grab and return’ techique. You know what I’m talking abut! You grab various styles and sizes from the rails, pay and try them on at home. Often forgetting to return the ones that don’t fit until it’s too late. The other pro of this is you get to avoid changing rooms. I can try them on at home, and look in the mirror in my study which is slightly bowed, meaning my reflection always looks better.
Anyway, I digress. The prospect of potentially needing a new sofa is looming – after all, there’s only so much wee one poor sofa can take. I can feel the dread building up in my stomach. Sofa shopping is the worst. It’s the sort of thing I think I still need to see in real life. Although, why I say that when my current sofa, which is about 12 years old, was bought on line, I do not know.
Anyway. Like I say, I’m feeling the dread. Sofa showrooms make me come out in cold sweats. They’re almost as bad as car sales men. After all, in a recent survey people were asked, “what’s the worst part of furniture shopping in store?” The result came out as “46% agreed that pushy sales assistants hindered their in-store shopping experience”. Between you and me, I bet the rest said “our children.”
Oh, don’t look at me like that. After all, there is nothing worse than a whiney thing jumping up and down, tugging on your arm and nagging in your ear. No I don’t mean the salesman (BOOM BOOM), I mean a child. Are you honestly going to tell me, that when you want to part with a lot of your hard earned cash, that a small child bouncing up and down and begging for food and drink isn’t irritating? Especially when they try and get you to purchase something that looks like it belongs on the set of ‘Disney on Ice’.
Although, saying that, the children do have their uses. Pushy salesmen ARE the worst. I despise anybody who pretends to be your friend (unless you’re buying my book and giving it a good review, you can pretend away then!). Car salesmen are buggers for pretending to be a friend to make a sale, so actually, when you’re at the browsing stage, the kids can be beneficial.
After all, we might not want them jumping about on stuff, but the salesman wants it less. Recently I went to check out a few cars, just to fuel my dream of having a car that doesn’t fart whenever I start the engine – or leak. Anyway, I had to leave swiftly, when after a test drive, I caught The Chunky Monkey licking the side of the coupe version.
However, if you’re foolish enough to leave some contact details when you’re fleeing in a hurry, salesmen don’t leave you alone when you think you’re gone and home dry. Even when you’re safely out of the showroom, salesmen try and contact you when they think the kids won’t get in the way or scratch anything. They give you a ring.
BIG mistake, HUGE. Because everybody knows that as soon as you pick up your phone the kids need you.
On this particular occasion I’d been to try a car out, and it wasn’t for me. I was being typically british about it all though, I nodded and smiled and filled out my details as you do, and then came away. A month later I got a call just as I’d started the bath running. I didn’t recognise the number but I’m always in hope that somebody is calling to tell me that I’ve won the lottery, so picking up it turned out to be the salesman. They had an amazing offer on one of the cars. ONLY 9% APR over 48 months (he told me that was two years *snort*). Anyway, at that moment a small child needed a poo. I picked him up and rushed him to the toilet. Then just as he was explaining that this ‘once in a life time offer’ was ‘only on for the next 24 hours’ the next one needed the loo, but the step and the toilet seat were already in use, so I had to go and help him up too. I was running up and down between two bathrooms on two different floors while running a bath.
In the end the guy started getting fed up of me saying “look, can you wait a second…just push a little bit harder…NO NOT YOU” and said “Shall I call back at a better time?” To which, I was brave/flustered enough to reply with “yeah in 18 years time please”.
Just reminding myself of that has filled me with dread about the sofa. I think we might need to book the outlaws out!
PASS THE GIN.