I procured my umbrella from Up to You and somehow managed to break the case before leaving the store. The co-owner was nice enough to replace it. I also bought some pink rubber cufflinks, a bird feeder that attaches to the window using suction cups and was given a charming cube calender, which I assembled this this evening. It was an altogether pleasant experience.

Unlike my trip to Zellers, which was very strange indeed.

To begin with, I could not locate their tailor or his apprentice. I can only assume that they had to left to avoid a protest that had unfolded throughout the store. People wearing Zellers uniforms aimlessly milled around, acted surly and incompetent. They were obviously pretending to be employees.

This must have been some sort of situationist stunt. Surely Mr. Zellers pays his workers a decent enough wage to garner the staff’s loyalty and ensure their pride in a job well done. Obviously these people could not be actual employees — so angry and dissatisfied with their workplace to be acting like irate zombies. At least these situationists left me totally alone –not even offering me a cup of coffee upon my entrance– as they conducted their little piece of agit-prop.

Unable to locate a real employee, I searched for pink socks, eventually discovering that these merry pranksters had moved all of them to the female section. Furthermore, there was an error in the packing plant. They package that interested me was marked as “Women’s Socks” as if wool socks could be gender specific. Ignoring the absurd mistake and secure in my indomitable masculinity, I meandered to the check-out only to discover that the situationists had taken over the cash registers. I braced myself for whatever little stunt laid ahead.

It did not take long. (Well, the line up took quite a while.) But once I was actually at the register the lady immediately engaged in guerrilla theater, asking me about something called “Airmile Points” and tried to discover if I had a “Zellers Card” to collect “Zellers Points”. I had heard her go through this same routine with previous customers and was curious about how it would end. I told her that I had none of that and waited for the punchline. It never came.

I can’t blame her for her oversight. She must have been worn out from her day of good natured pranks. (She certainly looked like she could use a rest.) But luckily for her she was in a shop owned by The Hudson’s Bay Company – a veritable Canadian institution.

I have no doubt that the wealthy Mr. Zellers, well known for his sense of humour, did the gentlemanly thing and invited this exhausted jester into the employee’s lounge to enjoy an invigorating hookah and footrub. He does have a reputation to maintain. And if I know that wacky Mr. Zeller’s, I’m sure he also had a whoopee cushion at his disposal. That’s just the sort of fellow he is.