the danger zone.

see what they did here?

If you’ve been a part of this attempt at maintaining sanity silly endeavor of mine for very long you might recall this post from this summer when I had the weirdest day ever, and got hit on by some pretty ridiculous diverse fellas. Some people found it amusing, so I think it’s time to share stories from the Danger Zone with you.

I like Target; I go there often, and usually my trips there result in me wandering aimlessly around carrying a latte in one hand and a $3 rug I found on clearance that I’m trying to justify buying at 97% off even though it would probably be making the space under my writing desk its home because I don’t really need it. Rarely on these trips, I venture to the electronics section. It’s usually rare because the things they sell there are either expensive or impractical in my life, and neither of those things appeal to me. That is previously the reason I abstained from visiting that particular section, but recently, I have had some experiences that I believe provide sufficient justification for my decision to avoid/rename the Target Electronics Section.

Picture it: Sicily 1965 I’ve decided to be the fun camp friend and make my whole staff a mix cd, so I go to Target (with purpose for once) to buy a million blank cds. As it happens there are 2 brands, similar in detail, one on sale, one better priced pre-sale, and both stocked in the wrong place. I’m confused; I’m reading; my latte sits neglected on the shelf beside me. Kind Sir walks past the top of the aisle, waves and it begins.

(click there. it gets better.)

“Need help finding something?” he says as I look up from intently reading the label on a stack of cds in my right hand. I glance at the second stack of cds in my left hand and say, “I think I found what I need, thanks.” Then, I smiled. (Dear boys, a smile is not an open invitation for anything. It’s actually more of a reflex thing for me.) My theory is that this precious cherub was not used to a) female shoppers in electronics or b) friendly customers in Target period. I returned to my previous pointless attempt to differentiate between the two products.  Aproximately 2 minutes later Suddenly, Kind Sir is creepily close to my left elbow, having stealth-moded his way to me from the bottom of the aisle.
“Can I help you find something?”
“No thanks, I’m okay.”
“Ok, well let me know if you need anything.”
“k, thanks.”
…(walks to the end of the aisle [circling around me])
“You look so familiar. Do you go to Prattville High?”
“Absolutely not, I just graduated from AUM.”
“Oh, I thought maybe I knew you from there. Did you have a boyfriend from Prattville? Maybe I knew your boyfriend, and that’s why you look familiar.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Hmnnn. You just look so familiar…(vacant wide-eyed shrug from me, intent questioning gaze from not me.) Well, do you have a boyfriend?”
“nope.” (crap, Jenna, why can’t you think on your feet?!!!)
“Can I have your number then?”
“Oh, no, sorry.”
“Oh it’s ok. It’s cool.”
So I ran away with both packs of cds leaving the cold latte in my dust slinked away through the garden section awkwardly carrying my drink, both packs of cds, and flushed face out of the danger zone.
End Scene.

If it were a one time occurance, I’d probably still say “I’m going to go take pictures of unsuspecting people with the display cameras in the electronic section,” but since it wasn’t I have to say “I’m going to attempt to complete a covert mission in the danger zone; here’s hoping I come back unscathed, toting TSwift’s new cd.”

Thus I bring you, experience number two.There I was, looking at camera accessories (please don’t ask why, I don’t even know myself) when Sly Guy tilts his head at me [flag one: if you employ the confused head tilt at someone shopping in your section, you probably aren’t an employee in said section] and says,
“Can I help you find something; I work here.” [flag two: if it isn’t obvious you are an employee, you’re probably not.]
“No thanks, I’m just looking.”
(circles around me) “I’m just playing, I don’t work here.”
(if you know me even a little you are picturing the look that was on my face in your head right now.)
“Are you here with someone?” (dear goodness, this is not a bar, this is Target! what is happening?)
“yes, my friends.”
“A guy?”
“yes.”
“Oh, well then ima jus keep on walkin.”
welp, done looking at the camera section. And of course making a bee line to my friends who are currently in the toy section, probably didn’t help validate my claim any.

The Danger Zone is a real place friends; lonely people like music and stuff. I always think it’s funny that these people are the only ones who ever hit on me. Really I guess it’s the answer to the prayers I painfully cried out for the first half of my college career–not “being hit on in Target”, but “not being hit on by my friends/aquaintances/guys who aren’t stable/certain/intentional”. I’m thankful that people I’m attracted to never hit on me because quite frankly I’m always attracted to boys who are unavailable (mostly emotionally unavailable, but I think some of them might be psychologically unavailable as well) and I think we’d all agree that the last thing any relationship needs is two unsound people in it.

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4 thoughts on “the danger zone.

  1. Jenna, that was so funny… I’m sorry, I’m dying in laughter here. Whenever I’m in an electronic section, people usually stop and ask for my advice instead of trying to see if I need help. lol

    SO I just have to ask, “Do you have a bf? And, can I have your number?” ROFLMBO ;-)

  2. old post = good times with awkward conversations with campers, wondering where whoever isn’t present’s keys are.

    new post = amazing, but i’m sorry that on your very dear and loving trip to target to purchase CDs for all of us (here’s to hoping you mean this camp year and not the last) that creepers creeped all over you. i absolutely hate creepers, especially in awkward places that do not make sense, like target.

    love your blog. love it when you post. miss you!

    amanda riley

  3. Leslie, your comments are good for my soul.

    Travis, from now on, Im training myself to say “yes, and his name is Bob.”

    Amanda, it is for you guys! I just have to mail all $50 worth of them. I miss you Sass!

    (Thanks for reading, friends!)

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