The Difference Between How Men And Women Are Treated While Shopping

I’m sure every woman in America has, at some point, felt the dread of having to go shop for something that they don’t know much about. Married or not, we’ve all had to purchase some type of item or receive some type of service that is considered a “man-job.” Whether you’re going to get your oil changed, buying a new car, or looking at tools, there is a certain stigma attached that says, “This item is for penis-havers only.” Having recently become a homeowner and, well really just a fucking adult, I’ve had to shop for numerous things like this and I’ve come to notice something every single time: Most men selling a penis-only product talk to women like we are fucking idiots. 

If you’re anything like me, you do your research before you even begin this process. Every time I have to buy something that’s going to cost me a good chunk of money, I scour the Internet to find out what I want and what I can afford. I then research it and ask others, including my man-friends and family, about what to look out for when I go to buy it. In other words, I know exactly what the fuck I’m here to buy, and while I may have some questions for you about the product, you talking to me like I’m a 5 year old makes me want to shove my credit card so far up your ass that they have to surgically remove it from your throat.

I remember when I bought my first car, I knew exactly what I wanted, exactly what I was going to pay for it, and I wasn’t leaving there with that car unless everything went exactly my way. My dad went with me because I was going to need a co-signer but I had instructed him to let me handle all of the talking, because my father is not very good at that sometimes. We pulled up to the lot, got a salesman, and went straight to the bright orange Camaro that I wanted. The salesman proceeds to ignore me completely and starts talking to my dad about the size of the engine, the transmission, the gas mileage, shit that I already knew the information about because I’d been stalking this car for weeks. When my father told him that it was me who was buying the car, he comes over and just guess what his selling point was… I’ll give you a second to contemplate. Got it? Wait for it…

“This car is a beauty hon’! The color is really sparkly and unique! Oh and look here! There are even car seat hooks in the back for the kids so it’s real family friendly!”

Motherfucker, are you kidding me? You’re trying to sell me a fucking CAMARO based on the fact that it has car seat hooks? If I did have a baby with me, I would hit you in the face with my baby, repeatedly.

Here’s another one for you: I walked into the Home Depot today on my lunch break to buy a refrigerator. I had an awesome experience buying it and ended up spending way less than I thought I would, so I decided to go look at the weed eaters. I thought I found one that I wanted so I called Billy Joe Badass, God’s Gift to Home Depot over for some assistance. My question: “What’s the battery life difference in these two? Is the difference worth the 20 extra dollars?” His response: “Well little darlin’, the 20 extra dollars still won’t get it in pink.” Why don’t you just point at me and laugh in front of the whole store while chanting, “You have a vagina! You have a vagina!” Yes I’m aware of that you big dumb fuck, are you aware that you just lost my money?

 No, this drill isn’t for my damn husband. Yes, I have measured the space and am sure the refrigerator will fit. Yes, I do know how to pop my fucking hood. Yes, of course I need help carrying this out even a fucking world champion weight lifter couldn’t pick this shit up.

We’ve all heard it, and we’re all fucking sick of it.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not every man. I’ve come across some extremely helpful men before who talk to me like I am a human, not a dumb broad who has never left the kitchen, and if I don’t understand, I feel comfortable letting them explain it to me. Anytime I have found a place like this, it’s a guarantee that I’ll be back there the next time I need something. However, there is no telling how many people have lost my business just from talking to me like they would their damn Cocker Spaniel, Bitsy.

So for any of my man-friends who are in the sales of penis-only products, feel free to share this with your friends. You wouldn’t want some asshole talking to your mother, your wife, or your daughter like she was a dumbass that was on her first big trip to the magical world of Lowe’s. Speak to us like intelligent adults, even if we ask a question that you might think is stupid. You’ve never had a department store lady look at you like a dumb fuck and call you “little fella” or “sweetie-pie” past the age of 12 because you didn’t know the difference in periwinkle and magenta, have you? I didn’t think so.