I am not a good consumer. If the fate of the free world depended on my spending habits, the only survivors would be grocery stores and animal rescue groups. So when I was recently forced to shop for shoes and a purse the sticker shock I felt when I pulled out my credit card would have been enough to convert my heart from manic fibrillation.
What the hell is this? Some dumb lady puts her name on the purse and suddenly it costs twice as much as I paid in rent on my first NYC apartment. Have we all lost our minds? Lost our sense of reasonableness? Lost our ability to discern when we are being taken like rubes in the big city?
This purse had better last for the rest of my life. If it doesn’t, the lady whose name is on it better be prepared to follow me everywhere until I die carrying my wallet, kleenix and credit cards. Because I have now reached my lifetime’s limit on how much I can pay for purses.