Who's Who In The Mall

I'm a bit of a sadist, I suppose.

Since I currently work at a non-profit students' association, I'm not exactly making the kind of change that would make Daddy Warbucks jealous. Don't get me wrong, the association is all-kinds of awesome, particularly regarding my co-workers, and the fact that I get to plan college activities. However, "not-for-profit" translates to "what's the least we can pay you before it gets embarrassing for everyone?" Therefore, I've relegated myself to taking a part-time job in addition to my full-time job, because a) the extra money is great, and b) I really didn't want to enjoy my weekends anyways. So I took a job working as a "sales associate" for a certain satellite radio company. At West Edmonton Mall. The greatest shopping and tourist mecca in the fucking universe. Do I love the pain of not having a day off in the week? No, but I'm afraid that I might be getting used to it, only because I've found a way to keep myself entertained.

Now, contrary to what you may think, there are times when I actually like working at WEM. Probably not in the way you think, though. Sure, there are those times when I wish for sweet death, but other times, I like working there because of the swelling mass of humanity that slowly oozes its way through its consumer thoroughfares. If you have any interest in observing human behaviour, the mall is the place to watch, record and by all means, make fun of every single person there. Many people will remark at some point in their lives that "Boy, the mall was a zoo!", so in keeping with that theme, I present to you "Who's Who In The Zoo?"

The Camouflage

Do you have one piece of camouflage?

How about multiple pieces of camouflage, that when worn all at once, create one single outfit that covers you in forest green or sand tones from head to toe? If so, then you're a camo-moron, and yes, I can see you. I don't know how or why this fashion trend started, but I used to know a kid in elementary school who wore camo sweatpants and a camo hat, simply because he thought that when we played Hide-and-seek, nobody would be able to find him. We always did, because he looked stupid, and he was fat.

The Clones

The Clones are any family or couple that feels the best way to express their love for each other is by dressing the exact same way. There's nothing better than to say, "Hey, these are my bastard children, but you'd never know it, because we all look super awesome in our matching outfits", or "Honey, I'll totally wear that matching track suit, if it means that I can still see you naked, because I can't get anyone else to." This is psycho-shit, people, and it's on display all the time.

The Motorist

I don't watch auto racing, so maybe I just don't get it. However, I definitely get the Motorist. Here's a guy or gal that just loves the thrill and monotony of auto racing (more specifically, NASCAR), so much so that they want to be draped in their favourite car number or sponsor. Sometimes I want to be draped in Mountain Dew and Tide, too. The checkerflag pattern on the arms is a must. It speaks a lot to the ambitions of the individual, and their goal of one day having their arms win a race. The Motorist usually smells like KFC.


The Alberta Tuxedo

Given the nature of the economy in my province, these people are popping up in increased numbers. The Alberta Tuxedo is as blue-collar of a person as the colour they proudly sport. They work for Suncor, Syncrude, Jake's Metal Refinery and the Camrose Kodiaks. They've taken the expression "wouldn't you just love being draped in denim?" to the max. The denim says they're built tough, but the leather collar says they've got a soft heart that's unfortunately not water-resistant. The cell-phone that's always handily clipped to the waist lets everyone know that they're ready for a phone call duel, anytime fucker. Overall, they're pretty much douchebags.


The ProstiTot

Largely due to the gradual sexualization of underage individuals in today's society over the last decade, the ProstiTot is a staple of the mall scene. Young children, attempting to emulate their heroes on TV, on film or in music (Hannah Montana, Bratz, High School Musical), can be seen flocking in droves to their favourite store to get the latest in spaghetti-strap tank tops. Their screams over a recent boy-crush can be particularly nasty within hearing range, and even made more piercing on a bedazzled cell phone. They can be found having their youth raped at LaSenza Girl, or day-dreaming about being pregnant like tween patron saint Jamie-Lynn Spears.

The Fat Girl With The Small Backpack

I've got an idea: wear something that doesn't greatly emphasizes your problem. Like a really BIG backpack. Fuck.