LMNOP

In my mind I have this running list of shops I will not enter unless they are absolutely swarmed with customers. All of the stores on this list (which includes such popular mall favorites as Bath & Body Works, Victoria's Secret, the shoe department at Nordstrom, and any perfume counter anywhere on Earth) have one thing in common: their salespeople have been trained in the art of what I like the call The Sales Pitch of Earnest Desperation.  This is when, upon entering the store, you are immediately accosted by an overly effusive sales associate offering to Help You With Anything You Need, Seriously, Just Ask, My Name's Jennifer and I'll Be, Well, Hovering Right Beside You Until You Decide Things Are Too Awkward and Then Sneak Out of the Store.

Everybody has their own way of dealing with these people; some ignore them, others tell them to f*ck off, and still others will politely keep repeating, "No, thanks, I'm fine," for the duration of their visit.  However, I do not know of a single person who will turn to the lady in Bath & Body Works and say, "You know what?  You can help me!  I am new to this planet and its concepts of grooming, bathing, and perfuming.  Furthermore, the layout of this store confuses me. Why does this bottle of lotion have a picture of a pear on it, while this one features an image of a rose?"

So if nobody out there is looking for this suffocating level of "service," why does it continue to exist?  This is what I have been pondering for the past two days after a particularly disastrous encounter with an overzealous Lush employee.  I would describe her pathetic sales pitch in detail, but a.) to relive that encounter would be to risk a brain hemorrhage, and b.) I am already getting the evil eye from the person behind me in line to use this hotel's computer; instead I will just ask, "WHY?  Why won't they leave us alone?"  Leave your theories in the comments.