Gotta' Be Kidding
At the risk of turning this into a lactivist blog, I simply must tell this story.
I went to Nashville on Sunday to see my best friend from seminary who was in town for a meeting. Her commitments ended at noon on Sunday, and since I wasn't going to arrive until mid-afternoon, she got together with another family member who lives in town. We decided to meet at Wild Oats since it's one of the only places I can find anymore in Nashville. It turned out to be extra-convenient because someone's dad forgot to put his shoes on his feet before we left home, and I remembered that Wild Oats sells Crocs. (Joshua is now required to wear them 24/7, which is the only way I can justify having spent $25 on a pair of shoes that he will probably outgrow next week.).
I met D, we loaded her stuff into my car, went into the store, found the Crocs, and I decided to pick up a "just in case" bottle of More Milk (it increases milk supply, as you may have guessed). We checked out, put Joshua's new shoes on so he could walk around, and then I figured I should probably feed Clare since she was cranky and hadn't eaten in a few hours. So we all settled into one of the booths at the front of the store and I started to feed her.
As I'm looking around I notice that one of the baggers, a young woman, maybe in her teens, is looking at me. Then I see her turn around and say something to the checker in her lane, and I hear the checker say, "Well, the baby's gotta eat!" Apparently this isn't the reaction that the bagger's looking for, so she moves along to the next lane, leans close to the checker, and says something to her. The checker looks over at me, and then the customer in the lane gets in on the conversation. I have no idea what they're saying, but I'm acutely aware that no one would have paid a lick of attention to what was going on if Bigmouth Bagger hadn't decided to announce it to the whole world.
And really, I'm astounded by the irony. Wild Oats boasts a "complete selection of the highest quality natural and organic food, helpful supplements and gentle, environmentally friendly household and body care products." Um, what could be more natural, organic, gentle, and environmentally friendly than good old momma's milk? And where's the logic in making a big deal over breastfeeding in a store that sells breastmilk supplements? Seriously? You're gonna take my $25 for a bottle of breastmilk supplement and then make a big deal that I'm breastfeeding in your store?
My respect for them is waning...quickly.
I went to Nashville on Sunday to see my best friend from seminary who was in town for a meeting. Her commitments ended at noon on Sunday, and since I wasn't going to arrive until mid-afternoon, she got together with another family member who lives in town. We decided to meet at Wild Oats since it's one of the only places I can find anymore in Nashville. It turned out to be extra-convenient because someone's dad forgot to put his shoes on his feet before we left home, and I remembered that Wild Oats sells Crocs. (Joshua is now required to wear them 24/7, which is the only way I can justify having spent $25 on a pair of shoes that he will probably outgrow next week.).
I met D, we loaded her stuff into my car, went into the store, found the Crocs, and I decided to pick up a "just in case" bottle of More Milk (it increases milk supply, as you may have guessed). We checked out, put Joshua's new shoes on so he could walk around, and then I figured I should probably feed Clare since she was cranky and hadn't eaten in a few hours. So we all settled into one of the booths at the front of the store and I started to feed her.
As I'm looking around I notice that one of the baggers, a young woman, maybe in her teens, is looking at me. Then I see her turn around and say something to the checker in her lane, and I hear the checker say, "Well, the baby's gotta eat!" Apparently this isn't the reaction that the bagger's looking for, so she moves along to the next lane, leans close to the checker, and says something to her. The checker looks over at me, and then the customer in the lane gets in on the conversation. I have no idea what they're saying, but I'm acutely aware that no one would have paid a lick of attention to what was going on if Bigmouth Bagger hadn't decided to announce it to the whole world.
And really, I'm astounded by the irony. Wild Oats boasts a "complete selection of the highest quality natural and organic food, helpful supplements and gentle, environmentally friendly household and body care products." Um, what could be more natural, organic, gentle, and environmentally friendly than good old momma's milk? And where's the logic in making a big deal over breastfeeding in a store that sells breastmilk supplements? Seriously? You're gonna take my $25 for a bottle of breastmilk supplement and then make a big deal that I'm breastfeeding in your store?
My respect for them is waning...quickly.
Comments
Too bad for her that we're not lizards.
I'm more intrigued by the fact that Joshua has to wear crocs 24/7. Is this a medical thing? (I have a very anti-croc bias which of course does not apply to babies, just curious)
teenager.
says it all.
In a store like that, you would've had a gazillion shoppers rip her a new one if they heard that.
I'd still call and talk to the manager. Time for a little employee briefing!
I'm with Kel on the Crocs, they should never have been allowed out of the garden...
I was surprised at myself when this happened. I always thought I'd be the big, bad, in-your-face, you-gotta-problem-with-it-? gal but it was actually intimidating. In fact, D and I just packed up the kids and left. So much for being a lactivist. It was almost worse that no one said anything directly but just kept whispering and looking.
I'm not a fan of the Croc, either. But in the interest of not having to make anymore stops to buy Joshua replacement shoes, I just bought the Crocs because Wild Oats sells them. Joshua now has to wear them until his toes poke out the ends because that's the only why I can justify a $25 pair of shoes for a two-year-old.
I think if they had approached you, you probably would've stood up for yourself. Whispering and giggling instantly throws you back to 12-year-old-why-don't-they-like-me?-mode. Who is prepared for that? Not even 12 year olds.