Mills on Mills

Normally, I like shopping. In fact, normally, I love shopping. I can pass hours in the mall. I once killed seven hours inside a single department store (Marshall Fields, how I love thee). In high school, I got a 10% discount on food at the Galleria because I was there so much, they just assumed I was a mall employee. In grad school, I used to study in the food court on Sunday afternoons. I liked the buzz of people around me and the odor of bad Chinese food from Manchu-Wok. I try to slip the word "kiosk" into every day conversation as much as is humanly possible. And, the only math I can do in my hand involves the percentage of clearance markdowns. But, I do not like the mall at Christmas time. In fact, I despise it. I find that merely being in the vicinity of a mall during the holidays replaces my festive Christmas spirit with outright anger and misanthropy. (You might want to reference my previous post on "Black Friday" for examples of manifestations of these feelings.) Truth be told, I used to have a similar reaction to "Six Flags" wherein a day at the amusement park made me question the fate of the human race, as evidenced by the fact that bicycle pants have yet to die off in civilized society, to the point that I had to give up on that enterprise for the sake of still wanting to eventually bring children into this crazy, crazy world. Basically, I don't want to be at the mall with other "mall people." I don't dress up to go to the mall. If I had children, they would not be in matching outfits of red velvet accented by tartan ribbons. I don't own a Christmas sweater or a light-up lapel pin that plays "Jingle Bell Rock." I don't carry around enough shopping bags to make my own Christo-like installation when I get home. I don't horde shirt boxes that say "Dillard's" in red and green. I don't plan my day around staying inside a multi-store structure. And, I certainly don't make sure I can have a light lunch at some sort of grill that involves overly buttered meat and fries, supplement my afternoon cravings with samples of chicken on a toothpick from an overly aggressive middle-aged woman in an apron, and top it all off with a "nice dinner" at Chili's Too. I just don't want to be that person. This is why it was all the more unfortunate that I didn't finish my shopping early enough this year and had to head out to Opry Mills Mall right after work yesterday. Yep, the mall and 5:00 traffic - it wasn't pretty. For about an hour, I bypassed all hand cream and shammy demonstrators so that I could fully "power shop." I mall-walked with determination, ignored all distractions and got what I needed. Then, on the way out to my car, a little girl ran up to me. (She was the first one to phase my steely mall-crowd-proof demeanor. I blame the pigtails.) She couldn't have been any older than five, and she shoved a little bag at me and asked if I "wanted to buy some fresh mistletoe." Now, I know that some of you might be thinking this sounds pretty cute. Little girl, mistletoe, Christmas cheer, blah, blah, blah. I, however, was incredibly disturbed. First of all, she didn't seem to have any discernible parent in sight. A child that young should be chaperoned at the mall - especially around Christmas time. Didn't anyone else have to watch cautionary tales about kidnappings and Adam Walsh as a child? Secondly, if one of her parents was there, why was he or she watching from afar as their child tried to drum up business in the food court? I also think this is creepy. But, really, what I couldn't get over was the idea that it must have been some kind of scam. I could just see myself being taken down in the parking lot by mall cops or worse. When someone with a badge pulls a baggie of green stuff out of your jacket pocket, I really don't think the explanation that you tried to buy Christmas decor off a kindergartener gets you very far. And, while I not seem full of the holiday spirit today, I wish you all a Merry Christmas!