My Love Letter To Nordstrom

I could just make a few jokes about Nordstrom’s heave worth flattery tactics or their penchant for stuffing your purchase into the smallest bag possible but that just isn’t my way now is it.

The year was 2007 and I was going through a surprisingly rigorous interview process in orders to land myself a job slinging clothes at Nordstrom. I couldn’t actually afford to wear the clothes I was selling but I considered my status as a Nordy’s shop girl quite desirable.

My first few days on the job were all about brainwashing training, “perception is reality!”  (I wake up in a cold sweat to this day with that mantra ringing in my ears.)    Myself and the other recruits watched some hopelessly outdated videos presented by the HR department (apparently it takes what looks like and old episode of Roseanne to teach folks not to be racist) and we attempted to stay conscious while a grown woman literally leaped around the room like some sort of Nordstrom adult cheerleader. Be aggressive, be be, aggressive!

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