Sears and TV – Canadian style

In the evening, after the Sears episode (see below) and lunch with Clare I relaxed to the gentle buzz of the hostel television. Slowly, with mind in neutral, I passed the hour with the gentle distraction of Smallville – not that I understood the plot, but…

Eventually, the point of this story arrived – the news.

To most people in the UK, the news, local or national, is a Serious affair. It’s full of death, violence, medical crises, scandal and politics. In short, its depressing. On any given day, the UK is going to Hell in a hand basket. Or possibly in a un-recyclable carrier bag.

In Canada, this does not appear to be the case. A terrible case of police brutality is reported – a trophy photo was shot when someone was arrested. Officers have been disciplined!

A building in Vancouver, designed to last six months for an exhibition has become unsafe, and is to be knocked down.

Atrocious political shenanigans – an official bought into an investiment trust, managed by professional investment bankers. He clears this with the appropriate public officals, but in his declaration of financial interests several months later, he declares an interest in an company (curtesy of the fund) that he might – MIGHT – have made a decision about.

As opposed to wasting millions on consultants and management companies…

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Sears. Yes…

After lunch with Clare, I walked back to the hostel, had a shave, put some contacts in, got changed and went for a stroll, ending up in Sears, a huge department store. Wondering where to find men’s clothes, I looked at the list of floors and products to find a Strange Thing.

What was strange? They had listed Women’s Apparel, Women’s Intimate Apparel and Lingerie.

So I, being curious, bored, and slightly intrigued started to prowl the Ladies floor, but to no avail. For 10 minutes I searched, finding lots of frilly things, but no answers.

Remembering my new years resolution to be social, I sought a shop assistant to solve my dilemma. I approached the young brunette young assistant and described my confusion.

I then watched, as she slowly went from pale white to a lovely shade of flustered red. Remember, if you please, that I was shaved and wearing contacts…and looked an innocent 16. Within moments she made her apologies, running off in search for someone to answer my question.

Minutes later I was approached by the Matron, with shop assistant in tow. With stern expression and eyes glaring she demanded I repeat my question – so I did.

She stopped, and appeared before answering.

But what do you think she said?

(Keep it clean…or amusing and dirty…)