Get in the Zone

AutoZone that is. I recently found out the discrimination that men feel at Victoria’s Secret while at AutoZone.

Hold on here, men aren’t discriminated at VS, they are eagerly helped by associates wearing all black with a tape measure around their necks (ya, I think of all black when I walk into VS, why aren’t they wearing pink?). All they have to do is walk around touching every bra in sight with a expression that resembles me looking at oil filters. I don’t know the difference between oil filter sizes. Just like men don’t know the difference in cup sizes. But the lovely ladies of VS love men that come in and need their help. They understand the importance of men buying the ‘demi bra’ and ‘seamless panties’ for their lady at home. Not so over at the Zone. Well the bra and panties part. Oil filters and bug wash.

One of the last things that left our apartment in our move was a very full oil pan. The option was to either take that to AutoZone to drain, or take our used goods to the Deseret Industries (the Mormon version of The Salvation Army). I chose AutoZone because someone could come out and drain it for me. It’s oil! I don’t want to spill that all over me. It could happen especially since I was wearing a cream colored top. I wasn’t going to risk it.

I walked in and saw a man helping someone. So I waited. AutoZone has a weird set-up. They have the actual counter that takes your money for oil filters in the front of the store. I had nothing to buy so that wasn’t the line I was heading for. I went for the counter that the men just chit chat at. But there was only one guy there and he was busy. I was the only girl in the whole store and yet, workers walked right by and ignored me. I was looking at them as they passed me. I made it very obvious.

They wear black too, what a coincidence.

The guy that was busy was now busy over at the check-out counter so I stood in line, waiting for him. If he was my only option, I’ll take it. I still looked around and finally made eye contact with a new guy behind the ‘chit chat’ counter. He asked if I needed help. Duh, I had nothing in my hands and a blank, frustrated stare on my face, of course I needed help!

So he helped me. I got my oil pan drained (gross) and I left feeling that using my cuteness and charm got me now where at the Zone. Sorry ladies if I just ruined it for those of you who walk in with your own oil pans and drain it yourself. I just couldn’t. My cream colored top wouldn’t allow it.

Next time Justin can go to the Zone and head to VS for a nice new ‘demi bra’ for me. He’ll be well taken care of at both places. Hope he remembers what cup size I am.

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