This is a Rant about the Wallet Witch

I am feeling slightly vexed at the grouchy German hag at one of the stands in the Christkindlmarkt. She works at a bag/purse/wallet booth, and I was sifting through the rows of wallets on display, because my current wallet is not conducive to holding change, and I'm looking for a new one.

So I will take my time looking, right? Because there are infinite number of wallet styles and I'd like one that is both very practical for my needs and appeals to my taste, right? Right. Tell this lady who gives me a cold smile when I walk up. She honestly has that look like I'm wasting her time. I just got here, woman! And I am browsing, not running a marathon.

I must admit to having a "female" stereotype of being terribly indecisive. I think I am afraid of irreversibility. At any rate, unless I know specifically what I'm getting, I am not particularly swift at buying things. 1) Do I need it?. 2) Do I like it?. And so on.

I am narrowed down to two cloth-type wallets, more or less. So they are of the same structure, but different colors, slightly different sizes, different designs, etc. Aesthetically, I like them both. Practically, the charcoal one doesn't open up as well, but eggshell/white gets dirty and sooty looking very quickly. So I need to decide. But this is particularly difficult because for the entire time I am there, she is standing over and watching me. Lady, I am just looking, and have told you so twice. Don't you have some big shelf of purses to go organize or something? Some inventory to count up?? Some sunny land of bunnies to go darken with your face like a storm cloud?? Meanwhile, she has so helpfully informed me for the 3rd time since I got there, "They are all the same!" (No, they are not, just like how you and I are both humanoid, but you are a total five-letter word that rhymes with witch, and I am not.)

I know that I have a hard time deciding, so I smile and apologize briefly. Like you do. Most people understand, and if they want business, they will definitely understand. Instead, she retorts straight back to me, "Yeah. I'm sorry too." I didn't even listen to whatever the hell else she was adding to that remark, because I was stuffing the wallets back into the row and walking away at that moment.

(I really need a Döner and some Will and Grace right now.)