Expensive and Smelly

Why must I take out a second mortgage to buy candles? 

On Friday night Sabrina and I went to Yankee Candle. Woo hoo! My exciting life is mind boggling, isn’t it?

I needed to go to Yankee Candle because about a year ago my mother bought me a Febreeze “Scentstories” machine, and Yankee Candle now makes scent-story disks for said machine. Which is good, since the machine is currently in our basement. The only disks that were available before were 5 different scents of vanilla (ick), or 5 “Scents of the Sea”, all of which smelled like bottom, mixed with salt. Salty butt. Hub and I get the Yankee Candle catalogue at home (which, by the way, rocks. It has scented pages, people!) and I noticed the new yummer smelling scent disks within the publication.

At Yankee Candle I am approached by a Candler asking if she can help me. I ask for the disks, and get the sad puppy dog face from Candle Girl – they only sell those online. But! She can order them for me and have them delivered to my house! Sounds good.

I shop a little more, eventually settling on a raisin sized candle ($9.99!) and a car freshener ($4.99!) and go to check out. Well. The new Candle Girl can’t order things online, so she gets her supervisor to help out. Supes is about 19, and looks like a dark haired cheerleader from hades. Cute, but in a mean way, you know? She can’t figure out the ordering, either… new Candle Girl keeps telling SuperMean what she should do, even though she has never done it.

Supes (under her breath): Where do I put in the tax?

Candle Girl (extra quiet): I think it goes in there. <points>

S: No, I cant seem to find…

C: Right. There. <points again>

S: Whatever, I don’t think it added it in.

C: Yes, it did. You’re gonna charge him twice.

S: Yes, yes, fine. <type type typety type>

Me: Um…

S: ONE MOMENT, SIR!

Isn’t it funny how some people can say “Sir” and totally mean “Person wasting my precious, precious time”? I would have told her to forget it, but she had my debit card in her manicured claws, and I’m fairly sure that she would have put through some fraudulent charges if I was rude. When we finally walked out of there, it had taken 9 minutes to check out. It doesn’t seem like a long time, but it is when you’re glaring at a rude child (fogey!) holding your bank account in her nasty little grip.

These disks better make my house smell like my mother snuck in and is cooking Apple Pie while making an Autumn Wreath and carving a Spiced Pumpkin.

PS – Sabby was totally stalking a college boy who was shopping for candles. At first I was like “Whatev, Sab – he’s decorating with candles, he’s my kinda lad”. However, he checked out beside me when I was patiently waiting, and he bought 3 black votives, and 3 forest green votives. He totally bought them ’cause he thought they would help him get laid. Sigh. Straight boys are so clichéd.

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