Day after the debacle at Aldo

The next day, I went to Aldo and flirted with the girl manager who happily exchanged my shoes for a more expensive and stylish pair. See, the thing about approaching women that are paid to be nice to you is that you get the feeling they might not be into you: they are, after all, paid to be nice to the costumer. If you cater this type, you’re so much more into trouble than you’d think. Actually, no catering, period. I marched right up in there and she could feel my indifferent steps all the way from the entrance into the man shoe’s section, and responded to the energy that I distilled. I was unimpressed at her recognition which made her more open and giddily (isn’t there more of an eloquent display of submissiveness on behalf of the opposite sex than assuming a girly attitude?) insisted I take (see, there was a catch to her over-friendliness) the shoes I initially rejected.
–It’s the principle –I argued. –And it’d be better if we move on.
All the while, I was my usual hard-ass self, tough-looking prick, who unwillingly extended a vote of mellow sympathy towards this hot chick going all out for me. She was the domesticated lioness I always wanted next to me. I sincerely thanked her without giving her as much as a vague stare. This girl had made physical contact and obviously left all the rest of the store in pause to come in my aid. I got my shoes and left.