The Great Sunglasses Caper

A regular customer (who is not the friendliest but we are used to it) stormed into the boutique on a Saturday morning demanding we return her precious Vera Bradley sunglasses she'd worn while shopping the day before. After searching every fitting room, our little lost-and-found drawer and under the chairs in the waiting room, we came up completely empty-handed. We offered to call her if we found them. I personally went so far as to contact every store in our entire shopping center to see if they had turned up. Nothing. She called two more times that afternoon and made a personal appearance on Sunday, accusing one of us of stealing her glasses. They meant so much to her, they were a gift and she was sure we were being dishonest. Again, assurances to call if they were found. Asking if they had possibly fallen under the seat of her car threw her into a fit though I feared it would before the words were even out of my mouth. She called again the next day and we still had not found them, she promised to call our headquarters to complain. One of my part-time associates said to me "why would someone be so hateful to people who go out of their way to help her in a store she loves so much she stops in at least once a week?"

Not 30 minutes later, the phone rings again. This time it's a young lady, very upset over a pair of missing Louis Vuitton sunglasses, insisting she lost them in our store and asks me to scour the fitting room she was just in. The rooms had been checked, they are cleared out after each customer with the efficiency of a hazmat team, but I look anyway and no sunglasses. Her temper is escalating on the phone and she is on her way back to the store to see for herself. I do have paying customers that I am juggling between the great sunglasses caper but I am honestly beginning to wonder if I don't have a thief in my midst. My young Louis Vuitton victim walks in, I know her immediately. "I just called about my sunglasses. Have you found them?" she looks so upset she might vomit. (I would, too, if I thought I'd lost a $600 pair of glasses.) Honestly, with no smugness at all, I say "Are they black?" {"yes"} "Embossed with the LV logo in silver on the sides?" she's nodding, relieved that I found them. "I think they're still on your head." Eyes big as saucers, hand goes up to affirm the shape of the glasses perched in her hair and all she can get out is "Omigod!" followed by "I'm so sorry", etc. We all had a little laugh, it's no problem, happens all the time, hardeeharhar, etc. and she's on her way, a little less oblivious than before, bless her heart.
Copyright © 2009 The Retail Diaries.

So another week passes and we had been collectively wondering if the Vera Bradley sunglasses ever turned up. In she walks one afternoon, sunglasses on, and my assistant who was nearest recognizes the glasses right away. "Hey, Mrs. X, did you find your sunglasses??" Dismissively, "Oh, yes, I'd left them at my sister's house." I wonder if her sister wears Louis Vuitton.

Personally, I prefer Chanel.