Illustration by Bob AulSend anonymous thanks, confessions or accusations—changing or deleting the names of the guilty and innocent—to “Hey, You!” c/o OC Weekly, P.O. Box 10788, Costa Mesa, CA 92627-0247, or e-mail us at
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I admit I didn't look like a glamour queen, but so what? I had gone for a run after work, changed into a fresh T-shirt and sweat shirt, and popped into your “fine furniture” establishment to look at an entertainment unit I was interested in. Once inside, I found a vase I liked and thought I'd buy it. You were busy on your computer doing who-knows-what when I asked you if I could purchase the item. You took one look at me—in my baseball cap and shorts—and told me that all the salespeople were with other customers and I wouldn't be helped for at least 10 minutes. Your look and tone said it all. I had been relegated to the bottom of the consumer food chain. I began to wait for a salesperson to help me, but as the minutes ticked by, it became apparent that it would be more than 10 minutes. I walked to your desk and put the vase in front of you. As I turned around, I said it was obvious you thought I was unimportant. Under that baseball cap and sweat shirt was some major purchasing power. Your fine judgment cost your “fine furniture” establishment some major money. Is that how you treat everyone who doesn't match your Good Customer Profile? I think your “fine furniture” establishment needs some “fine tuning.”
