Tag Archives: Old Navy

The Highs and Lows of the Gym

With Old Navy’s recent sale on spandex capris, I thought I’d finally hit the gym after buying my pass in January. I know. Shut up.

The gym at my school is an odd one, because it’s tiny and it’s a solid half an half of students and old, rich people who live in the surrounding old, rich community.

There are even a section of treadmills labelled with imperial measurements.
(For those of you who don’t know, Canada switched to metric in the 70s, so those who went to elementary school a long time ago still usually use imperial. Including my parents. Yes, mom, there are 100cm in a metre. I wrote it down for you. It’s on the fridge.)

I’ve made some slight observations.

Good: Old people don’t check you out while you work out.
Bad: I think.

Good: I’ve realized that the elliptical is a magical machine that doesn’t make my knees want to crumble into dust when I use it.
Bad: Have you ever tried looking coordinated on an elliptical?

Good: I climbed the lovingly called “stairs of death” back up to campus without losing my breath after the gym.
Bad: The stairs of death exist.

Good: The new spandex capris and a cute t-shirt aren’t too shabby.
Bad: They are now covered in sweat forever.

So there you are. My adventures at this weird thing that humans go to as a supplement for our lazy-ass lives of leisure so we don’t die of cardiac arrest at 28 while reaching for that last slice of cheesecake.

Necessary disclaimer: Not me.

Necessary disclaimer: Not me.

Oh, How The Tables Have Turned: Me vs. Old Navy

Today, I was the dumb customer. Yes, I went shopping. And yes, I pulled a “classic” (two, even) move, completely being a moron. I apologize, Old Navy employees. It was never meant to be this way. I’m on your side, I swear.

After trekking to the salon in Whitby (here it’s all sketchy $5 Chinese haircut places or “weaves-r-us,” so I go east) I decided to stop by the mall and check out Old Navy. Sales, yay!

and save, I did.

I picked out some various awesome tops and sweaters. One was a nice, thick cable knit cardigan. Kind of old-man style, but in a good way. When I got the cash, it rang up $36! I pulled  the old “what, that’s not on sale? THERE WAS A SIGN!” stunt. To be honest, Old Navy, if you’ve only got certain cable knit sweaters on sale, don’t put them all on the same table with a sign that says “Cable Knits on Sale!” Assholes. Whatever. I brushed it off after the manager went to check the sign, and told the guy to remove it from my bill.

I then handed him my $10 off coupon from the flyer, paid, and left the store.

Looking over my receipt while walking towards the Freshly Squeezed, I noticed that the coupon had actually not come off my bill. “Figures, the guy was slow and not paying attention. Dammit,” I thought to myself. So I got up the nerve the trudge back in and politely let them know the problem. The manager apologized and started typing away into the computer. She had to manually refund all of my items before re-charging me with the coupon. It took her a while to get everything in the computer, and I awkwardly stared at the walls trying not to feel like a douchebag. “Whatever, it’s an hour’s pay!” I kept trying to justify my actions.

She scanned the coupon. Looked at the screen for a few seconds, then at me, then back at the screen.

“Actually, hun, this coupon is for if you spend over $100 dollars.”

…I froze. I was humiliated. I looked over that coupon so many times! When I worked in a grocery store, I wanted to punch people in the face who didn’t read their coupons. Now I was that asshole.

Somehow I got it in my head that it was $10 off $50 or more last week when I shoved it in my purse. What the hell? What is wrong with me?

Well, it wasn’t completely my fault. Neither the cashier or manager even knew how much the coupon was for until after this kerfuffle, and it’s not like Old Navy has a lot of coupons floating around.

The next time someone uses the wrong coupon for some tulip bulbs, I’ll try not to hate them deep down inside. Instead, I’ll turn my hate towards the fact that I really should be in school, and not hating every moment of my life working as a lowly cashier.

Revelation acquired.