Dear Mr. Dressing-Room Mirror,
Your behavior this evening was completely unacceptable. I have never been so humiliated in all my life. Who do you think you are? I do have feelings you know. We need to come to an understanding, you and I. You work for the department store and the department store works for me. Get it? That means you need to be doing everything in your power to make the sale.
For the record, I don’t believe for one second that I have that much grey hair, or that my legs pucker like that. And whose ridiculous stomach was that you showed me?
Again, not mine.
You’re not fooling anyone with that awful flourescent lighting my friend. You’re a circus-fun-house-wannabee, that’s what you are.
To think, people believe our economy is depressed. You’ve got the whole nation fooled. It’s not the economy. It’s stinkin’ dressing room mirrors like yourself that are keeping women like me from spending a dime on clothing.
Candlelight. That’s the answer.
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