Earlier
this year I was in Orlando for SleuthFest, a mystery writers conference I co-chaired
with Julie Compton. I did a little retail therapy before the conference
started, savoring my last few hours of relative quiet before the start of a
hectic four and a half days.
I
went to the Victoria’s Secret store at the Mall at Millenia looking for a slip
to wear under a dress. At 53, I am old school: I wear a full slip, half-slip,
or camisole under my clothes as my need dictates. Working in corporate America
in the 80s through the early 90s, I wore suits with the appropriate
undergarments, pantyhose and heels every day.
I
know that dress in general is more casual these days, particularly among
younger people.
I
was astonished, and not a little dismayed, when the young girl greeting me at
the door who asked what I wanted didn’t know what a slip was. It wasn’t that
she didn’t know where in the store it was; she had no idea what garment the
word slip represented.
I
get that she doesn’t own a slip, and her mother may not own a slip. What got me
is that she works in a store that sells slips; for that reason alone, she
should have been familiar with the word if not the use. The catalog has slips,
and uses that word in the name of the garment – I checked.
She
offered to get someone else to help me, but I said I would find it on my own. I
found two slips that were possibilities, and confirmed at checkout that I could
return them to my local Victoria’s Secret if either or both didn’t work for me.
Returning
to the hotel, I put both slips away and ultimately didn’t need either during
the conference. I knew one slip would fit without trying it on; I had one just
like it at home.
The
other slip, which contained enough spandex to slim an elephant, I wasn’t so
sure about. It was sized according to bra size, so in theory it should fit. Attempting
to try it on, I was afraid I would break an arm getting into it and would need the
Jaws of Life to get out of it.
I
returned it to my local Victoria’s Secret store; when the sales clerk asked the
reason, I just said it didn’t fit. No need to mention needing life-saving
implements for assistance.
I’ve
worked in retail. I know that every salesperson doesn’t know about every item
in a store. I
do expect a basic level of knowledge about the items a company sells,
particularly when they have a catalog an employee can browse through to
familiarize themselves with the merchandise their employer offers.
I
always thought Victoria’s Secret was a sly reference to the unseen undergarment.
It behooves her employees to learn all of her secrets.
