Misadventures at Pottery Barn, Clarendon

Ophelia has been on a quest for a while now to find an attractive, affordably-priced and appropriately formal menorah. I mean, it’s my first one, but it’s also the one I will share with Monkey, and I kinda plan on using it for a while, so it was important that this wouldn’t be a) ugly b) a piece of crap c) hard to clean d) more expensive than I could afford. When last I was out with LocalJursidiction, I bought [an ugly] one at Linens-N-Things and some candles to go with, just so I would have one just-in-case, with the intent to hopefully find a nicer one in the meantime and then be able to return the LNT one. Finally, this weekend, I spotted one online at PotteryBarn in brass and bronze. Not too terribly pretty, but lightyears better than the disgusting one I got at LNT, with the added perk of being the same price. I figured it would be a fair enough tradeoff if I could get it, so we tromped off to Clarendon to see if they had one in stock. I convinced Monkey to come with me with the promise of Ben&Jerry’s. That caused him to proclaim me the most conniving, sneaky woman on Earth, and this I could not deny.

When we finally got into PB, I was immediately able to find the one I was looking for – it was a little uglier than I had hoped, but then, I’ve never been a fan of “rustic.” We invented air conditioning for a reason and man has never had real reason to look back, but that’s another story all together. I wasn’t smitten, but I wasn’t disgusted either. The problem though, was that there was only one, as part of a display. I decided to check around to see if perhaps there were others, in boxes, since I could just imaging trying to bring it home, tripping, and impaling myself on it. As I wandered toward the other side of the store, I suddenly saw IT: beautiful, sleek, silver, dignified (this is important), resembling something easy to clean, and most of all, small enough to put in the freezer! (For easy wax removal.) Behind it was a box, and we weren’t sure if this box went with the menorah on display, or if it was another box containing a second menorah, but it was wrapped nicely in a fancy-tied festive ribbon. Also, we could not find a price, so we decided to ask a helpful sales clerk. Let me preface by saying that the menorah is somewhere between “heavy” and “not-heavy”, and the box is a weird weight where it *could* contain a menorah, or it could merely contain packing materials. The clerk lets us know that it is only slightly more expensive than the one I had been considering, so I decide, “why not?” It wasn’t like I was honestly going to be able to find a nicer or cheaper one with the big H only a week away. What next ensued is almost unbelievable. I pick up the box. “Is it in here?” I ask. It feels like it might be, but I can’t be sure – it’s been previously opened, so one indeed cannot be sure. The clerk picks up the menorah and weighs it in her hands and says “hmmm…”, so I lift it too and lift the box, and Monkey looks at me like I’m an idiot. “Is it in there?” He asks a little impatiently. “I dunno, it’s a weird weight” is all I can manage. So he lifts the box too, lifts the menorah, and then in head-scratching language, also says, “I dunno, it is a weird weight.”

“Well,” I say “Can we open it to be sure?”

The Clerk, I can tell, does not like this. I am not sure why she is so adverse, other than perhaps a desire not to be on the re-tying end of this exploration, but she says, quickly changing her assessment, “Oh, it’s in there.”

“But can we check?”

“It’s in there. Do you need candles?” she asks, holding up an overpriced box of white candles.

“No, we have candles.” (Remember that I purchased these at LNT, and know better than to buy $9 menorah candles from PB and return the $4.50 ones to LNT.)

“Yes, but these are SPECIAL candles.” I look at her, thinking that she’s more shikse than I am and what does she know from hannukkah candles, but she continues: “These are made especially for this menorah.”

O.
M.
G.

“No, these are menorah candles. All menorah candles are this size.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Well what color are your candles? Are they different colors?”

“No. They’re white and blue.”

“But they’re different colors.”

“They can be. They can be any color you want. Ours are blue and white.”

“But are they red?”

“Nopewehavecandlesthanksbye.” To Monkey: “Bring the loose menorah.” Fortunately for me, he knows what I was thinking.

We get to checkout, explain that the box is a weird weight, and we would like a clerk to “justcheckthebox” before vending so we can be sure not to be walking out with an empty menorah box. Unfortunately for us, our cashier, a native English-speaker, speaks doublefast, but somehow understands NO English. At all.

“Wha?”

We’re not sure if there’s a menorah in the box, so we brought the loose one. Can you just check please?”

“Wha?”

Her boss comes over. “But don’t you want to give it as a gift?” (What does this have to do with it? When is it appropriate to give unwrapped industrial boxes as gifts just because PB puts a ribbon on it? Furthermore, what does this have to do with it? I've every right to receive the merchandise for which you charge me, so I've every right to ask you to check your trussed-up box for me.)

“No, it’s for us, could you please check?”

“Oh no, it’s in there.” Boss leaves.

“It’s in there,” asserts the chipmunk-who-does-not-hear-English.

“Okay”, I say, a little strained.

“Soyouwantedbothright?”

I am not sure what she’s said because she speaks so fast, but I think she’s assuming I want both menorahs. “No, only one,” I say.

“Didyouwanttheoneinthebox?”

I cannot be hearing this. I get snippy. “YES, I want the one in the box!”

“Yourtotalis sdfsdkdfgkhdg.” (I inserted gibberish here because I honestly could not hear what she said, didn’t feel like arguing, and really didn’t care as long as I bought myself a menorah.)

“Arrgh.” I hand over my credit card. “But…” Monkey starts. Don’t worry I tell him, I’m checking it as soon as we get out of this abominable place.
When we do get outside, to my delight, it does contain a menorah, which means I don’t have to go back in and deal with it, but this is not through virtue of these three nitwits somehow being able to ascertain the contents of a sealed box better than I. This is just through sheer luck, and secretly, I wish that their hair gets stuck in their too-shiny, too-shellacked lipgloss.
All.
Day.
Long.

I made the point to get out of the way and be polite and do my package opening on a nearby bench, but I SHOULD have done it right in the middle of the front door. At least, the seething, snarky Me wished that after the fact.*

At this point, realizing that I had not eaten in the last 5 hours, Monkey and I decided food would be better than ice cream. Our first thought was to go to the cheesecake factory, but we quickly remembered Hard Times Café around the corner – a place we’d been meaning to try and which had been recommended to us for both its BBQ and chili multiple times in the past, but hadn’t had a chance to try as we’re almost never in Clarendon.
And that

Is the NEXT story.

---

* Monkey later told me how uncomfortable he had felt the whole time in PB, partially because we were buying a menorah, partly because we had the ordeal over the contents-of-the-box as well as the candles, but also, he felt that perhaps the clerk was thinking we were being cheapskates by not buying the candles.

I thought about this, and decided that first of all, it was stupidity that caused our ordeal. Second, we already HAD candles, so we weren’t being consumer whores by bending to buy the over-priced “name-brand-boutique” candles. I wouldn’t call that being cheapskate. Cheapskate is buying your candles at CVS and then haggling because they’re not all perfectly tapered.

On the other hand, I realized that really it was a larger statement on being Jewish. Monkey has grown up in Fl, where it is ok to be Jewish in some places and definitely not ok to be Jewish elsewhere. I, on the other hand, have never had to be Jewish. So suddenly, finding ourselves in metro DC, to me it seems an exceedingly ok area to be Jewish, and to Monkey, it is still a place to be wary. I decided that it probably comes down to this: converts, soon-to-be converts and one-day-to-be converts are probably a lot more brazen about being Jewish not only because we have had to deal with less discrimination, but probably also because a good deal of discrimination just goes over our heads or under our radar.

Ignorance truly IS bliss.