Do I look like a criminal?

I went shopping today, in quite a smart mall.

In the first shop, which was a racy lingerie shop (Victoria’s Secret), a shop assistant asked me politely how she could help and then, when I said I was just having a look around, took to following me, maybe two steps behind, as I tried to look at the new, sexy cut-out styles.

I can’t tell you how off-putting it is to look at sexy lingerie with an assistant breathing down your neck.

Did she think I was going to pick up a handful of padded bras and shove them in my handbag? Is that the look I give off when I’m shopping? Do I really look that shifty?

Signed, sealed, delivered, stamped and paid. Can I go now?… Are you sure?

Needless to say, I left empty-handed.

And then I had to nip into e-Max, the electronics store, to buy a gift for one of DD’s friends. I chose the gift and was taken to a till, where the barcode was scanned. But I couldn’t pay there – oh no: instead of a bill, the barcode scan produced a “ticket” that had to be taken to the “cash till” (bear in mind Dubai aspires to be the foremost “Smart City” in the world).

So off I trudged to the “cash till”. There, a relatively normal transaction took place. I paid for the goods, and a receipt was produced. But, as if a till receipt was not enough proof of purchase – as if I could have faked a till receipt between the shelf and the shop door –  the receipt was then stamped with a “PAID” stamp. And then it was stamped again with a “DELIVERED” stamp (of course it was “delivered”; I took it to the till myself).

The item was then bagged up and I went to leave the shop.

But no. There was a twist: Madam may not exit the shop with her carrier bag of paid-for, stamped-for goods. Good Lord, no.  Madam must produce the receipt out of her handbag because she cannot leave the shop without a stamp from the security guard (“Checked and Delivered”).

Maybe they should get another stamp to add at the till: “These goods are not stolen,” or how about “Let Madam go; she is not a felon.”

Is it just me, or do Dubai’s shops make you feel like a criminal, too?

 

Advertisements