Mr. Bluetooth stopped working. Suddenly. And forced me to actually use my hands to talk on the phone. Motherfucker.

After going without it for a week, I finally got sick of holding the phone and not being able to type at the same time as “listening” to Mike drone on about Ghostbusters, so I forcedinvited my mom and sister to take a trip to Best Buy with me. Our friendly, local Best Buy is about twenty minutes away — right inside of the much better and shopper-friendly Meriden mall. (The Waterbury mall? Sucks. It’s filled with nothing but GIT clothing, which is fine — if you’re into dressing like a GIT.) So we drove up to the wonderful land of Meriden to return my Bluetooth.

The Geek Squad, as always, was great. They all stared at my boobs (hooray for a self-esteem lift!) and gave memy boobs prompt and friendly service. (I don’t think any of them actually looked at my face, ha ha ha!) I walked out of there with a shiny new Plantronics bluetooth, a 500GB Passport, and a case for my Passport. (I won’t be dropping this one — promise!)

Next we decided to go to Borders, which is right across the way. Now, I’m not a Borders fan. I much prefer Barnes and Noble, for reasons I really couldn’t describe — until now.

I had seen, in a recent issue of BusinessWeek (yes, I get BusinessWeek), a book about marketing and PR on the web, The New Rules of Marketing and PR by David Meerman Scott. I’d been drooling after this book for weeks, and since I had a little extra cash in my business checking account I decided to pick it up. Since the nearest BN is in Waterbury, I decided to check and see if Borders had it.

First, I browsed the Computers & Technology section, because I’m a nerd. Won’t deny it. I wasn’t too excited about their section, and I wasn’t too thrilled with the way Borders pretended to have everything organized, but didn’t really care. I was in a bookstore, which is like heaven to me. Usually.

A little disappointed, I left that section and looked up the book I wanted on the computer kiosk to make sure it was in stock and to find out where it was. The computer said it was in stock and in the Business section, so I started to look for that section. Every other section had huge signs, but the Business section was completely hidden. I ended up standing in the middle of the store feeling a little like the new and very small kid on a football team of very beefy jocks.

Luckily, someone came running over to help me!

“Can I help you with something?”

“Um, well, I’m just looking for the Business section–”

“Anything in particular?”

“Just the new book by David Meerman–”

“Well, I have to help someone else, but I can be right over, or I can send someone over!”

I started to say that I didn’t need help, but couldn’t get a word in while she was talking. “Okay, well, if you could just point me in the general direction–”

“Oh, we don’t point, but I can send someone over!”

I took a deep breath. “Okay, well where is the Business section?”

“It’s over there,” she said, pointing to a small and nearly invisible section. “And I’ll send someone right over!”

I felt utterly violated as I walked toward the minuscule Business “section.” What had ever happened to BROWSING? Why had this woman forced her customer service on me when all I needed was someone to show me where the damn section was? Maybe I’m just used to my BN, but they ask you if you need help and if you don’t, they leave you alone and let you continue to peacefully browse.

I took another deep breath and started looking for the author. “I’ll just find it before someone comes over and I’ll get the hell out of here,” I told myself. So I looked. And looked. And looked some more. Just as I was about to leave the store in a flurry of frustration and many descriptive curse words, someone asked if they could help me. Someone with some kind of large bird feathers sticking out of the back of her pants. Like, female peacock or turkey feathers. Like, large and dark brown, very feathery feathers. Like, I seriously wish I had a picture for you (but my sister insisted that it would be mean, so blame her). They were even all fanned out. Some peacocks would be jealous.

My jaw started to drop, and then I recovered. “Uh, yeah. I’m looking for David Meerman Scott’s new book, ‘The New Rules of Marketing and PR.’” I didn’t even try to tell her that I didn’t need help. I considered running out of the store, cackling like a madwoman, but I sort of still had the hope that she might be able to find it. After all, I — a lowly non-Borders employee — would never be able to figure out the mess that was their method of organization.

“Hmn, Scott, Scott…” She said, briefly scanning the shelves and faking a Scottish — maybe British — accent. I wanted to die. Or run out of there like a madwoman.

She walked away. “Mmn, nope, we don’t have it,” she said from somewhere. Possibly the 5th dimension. “You’d have to order it online.”

“Uh. Okay? Thanks?” I stood there, half bent over staring at the other Business books.

Nothing. Not even crickets from her end. Not even an invitation to order it through them.

I stomped away from the section, determined to stop my sister and mom from buying something, but it was too late; Mom had already bought the new Dean Koontz Frankenstein book. I also tried to take a picture of her on the way out of the mall, but Lauren played Jiminy Cricket and sarcasmblocked me. Sigh.

The moral of this story? Stick with BN. You’ll have a lot less headaches, and plus they have good coffee.

What’s your strangest shopping story? Share it in the comments below!