Ramps, electric doors and parting with cash

I’ve developed rather an affinity for ramps: if a shop has one, I will enter, solely for the reason of showing that it entices the pusher of a poussette in. Similarly, if a shop has an internal elevator, I will use it, regardless of whether it takes me to the prettiest dresses, or the grottiest of men’s underwear, solely to show that customers need it.

If a shop has a high step, I will not enter it. Unless, and this has rarely proved to be the case, a shop assistant spots me outside and voluntarily opens the door. Then I’ll enter, and most likely buy something too (luckily I don’t live near Hermes…).

If a shop has a level entrance, and, wait while I calm myself, electric doors, I will be a regular.

What will f*** it up though, are internal security who follow me around. I know I look a little dishevelled these days, especially for gay paree, but I.MADE. IT. OUT. OF. THE. HOUSE. WITH. CLOTHES. ON. Okay, that little mustard coloured spot on my cardigan isn’t exactly mustard, but I’m in proper adult attire and the big basket on my oversized pram does not make me a shoplifter. Truly it doesn’t. Not even a tiny bit. It does show the potential space I have for goods in your store – that I will pay for, in full, at the checkout. Like normal people.

Cos, I’m normal, right?*

*Smoothes hair back, pats pinny down and surreptitiously rubs at a little spot of “mustard”…

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