"Reynoldo then proceeds to go through my items one by one and put them in either a “Yes” or “No” pile. I see him take a pair of Gucci shoes, still in the box, which I bought on clearance and only wore once because they’re a size too small and pinch my feet so hard want to cry when I wear them, and put them in the “No” pile. “What’s wrong with the shoes?” I ignorantly ask. “Um, pointy toes are kind of out right now.” Thanks, asshole. This is a secondhand store in the Inner Sunset in San Francisco…didn’t realize the pointy toe was such a leper. Reynoldo’s judgement didn’t seem to stop with the shoes, though. After he goes through my clothes, he looks at me, dressed in workout clothes, and goes “Not working today?” in a tone suggesting I was either unemployed or some spoiled girl with out-of-style pointy toes Gucci shoes who doesn’t need employment. “No, Reynoldo, I’m a teacher. I teach children.” Don’t you judge me, Reynoldo, or my pointy-toed shoes."
My good friend Ariel is blogging now. She's hilarious in real life and a good writer. This is her second post and I was already laughing out loud. Enjoy.
