Our story starts within the confines of Southlake Mall (now, Westfield Shoppingtown, wtf?). My shoes had recently began to fall apart and I required a new pair. What better place than the mall? The mall has it all. Since my taste in shoes is slightly atypical I decided to venture to Journeys. My goal was just to replace the shoes that were already on my feet; little did I know this was not going to be such an easy task. I already knew what I wanted, but to get some attention from a sales clerk I walked around periodically glancing towards the counter to see if anyone would come and ask me if I needed any help. I did this for about ten minutes with no one coming to my aid. I finally just went up to the counter, which by the way had 5 employees just standing around not doing anything. There was this chick up there, total punk rock anti-establisment type, who I was trying to get to help me. I stared at her, and instead of the obvious, cheery, “How can I help you?”, I just got a blank stare back. It was like she was staring into my soul. After about 5 seconds of awkward staring I just blurt out “can I have a size 9, brown, low-top, Chuck Taylors?” Little miss Sid Vicious just kept starring. Then I guess after realizing I wasn’t going to go away she goes to the back to go find them. I just stand there waiting, and waiting, and waiting. After about 15 minutes she comes out. She doesn’t even acknowledge me. I go to the counter again. She sees me and says, “We don’t have any 9, but we have 7s.” We have 7s. Why the hell would I want a seven. My foot isn’t variable sizes. I can’t take sizes 7-9. So, my brown chucks were a bust, but I still need new shoes, because mine were falling apart. I go up to another girl this time, and ask her for a pair of navy-blue checkered vans in a 10 (they don’t carry half-sizes and a 9 in vans is too small). She seems OK. She quickly returns with a box. At this point I’m kind of exciting, I am at least going to get a pair I kind of liked. She says, we are out of 10s, but we have 11s and proceeds to take the 11 out of the box and size up my foot. Look lady! I am not an 11. She was looking so hard, and kept looking back at me to see if I was going to be like “Oh yeah, 11s fine, fitts like a glove if I just shove a pair of socks in the toe.” Fuck! This is why I loose faith in humanity. It’s people like this. I couldn’t believe 2 separate employees tried to sell me different sized shoes. They were at both ends of the spectrum too. Apparently if you are a 9, you are also a 7, 8, 10, 11. I was not going to stick around and have to keep going through this. I don’t think I will be going back to Journeys anytime soon. I though you guys needed to hear this. Well, it’s late and I’m off to bed. Until next time. Goodnight and Goodluck.