Abigail M. Schilling

Old Navy, sensing I was on the verge of distrust (why, company, do you keep sending emails?), sealed the deal today. They've won my allegiance once and for all and if I didn't already own a wardrobe sponsored by them, I would now.

It's been raining a lot here and tonight as I was leaving work it was raining so hard that I thought about not going back to Old Navy. But I had promised the sales girl last night that I would be back for all the clothes I made her ring up and put on hold. And I had--at her request--told her what time I'd be back today. See, I didn't have the coupon I thought I had and I don't earn those cardholder coupons for nothing. I will get my rewards, dammit!

With my irrational fear of promise-breaking, I headed in the opposite direction of my house to get those clothes I had put on hold. The coupon had actually expired so I had nothing to live for, but there were so many clothes on sale, and I couldn't just let them lay on the rack, so inexpensive and unbought.

I mean, seriously, did you guys know that Old Navy is GIVING AWAY clothes? I've been there twice in the last week because everything is so cheap I want to buy clothes for everyone I know. Of course, then they wouldn't get actual presents and they'd be all, "Schilbo, why are you pushing your ridiculous need to buy clothing on me?" And I'd be all, "do you not understand the beauty of NEVER having to do laundry? It is beautiful. And glorious. And the way to live in lazy peace."

So, I did the right thing and just got clothes for me. (For the rest of you: TARGET DOLLAR AISLE! Merry Christmas!)

Unfortunately, when I arrived and asked for my (huge) bag of stuff on hold it was nowhere to be found. Apparently, the girl last night did not mark down when I was coming back EVEN THOUGH SHE ASKED ME. And so they figured it had been on hold forever and my huge bag of on-sale clothing had been reshelved. I didn't know what to do. On the one hand, I didn't have the coupon I thought I did so I wasn't going to get the fatty discount on the already cheap clothes and so should give up, BUT on the other hand, CLOTHES I DON'T NEED. MUST BUY.

And so, with the help of a really, really nice manager we weaved through the racks in the back, pulling out my clothes. He was so nice and so apologetic that I realized that once we found all my clothes I couldn't unselect certain ones as I originally planned. He kept finding stuff that wasn't mine and saying, "how about this?" which, when I type it out, makes it sound like he was trying to sell me more clothes, but in real life (IRL) it was like he was my BFF.

Once we found everything--and by everything I mean that no one person should ever buy that many clothes for herself at once--I was rushed to the front of the line. "Oh no! After all we put you through, the least we can do is not make you wait in line!" The line was at least a dozen patrons long and they all looked at me in awe. I'm sure they pondered whether they too could get VIP status by dressing head-to-toe in Old Navy attire.

Rushing me to the front of the line did end up being the least they did. Not only did they take my expired coupon, but they added on a considerable discount which I'm afraid to talk about on here for fear that Gap, Inc. will find this blog (they visit every single time I mention them, seriously) and either take my clothes back or fire my BFFs. Bottom line: I now have TONS of free clothing.

I totally regret doing laundry the other day.