Today I went to a makeup counter of a very famous and well respected cosmetics brand to potentially top up supplies for my kit. I was (eventually) served by a “Make Up Artist” whose Brows looked like they were painted on with liquid eyeliner. Clearly she had failed to imitate something she had seen on Instagram.
It had me baffled at how unfortunate this girl made herself look in an attempt to entice me to purchase her product or utilise her (questionable) talents.
For a time I couldn’t be sure if this was an actual employee from (this brand) as she was just wandering aimlessly around the grubby counter confidently showing off her busted face paint. Surely this is purely a generic sales person attending the counter while the actual staff are busy or on a break. She clearly has very limited makeup experience, but she was wearing the uniform and I had no other choice but to let her attend my enquiry.
I couldn’t look away as her painted-on Brows were screaming at me for help. In my head I was shouting shady lines back at her like: “Honey, you’re selling Makeup, not house paint! It might be a good idea to learn how to use it sometime!”
… but I kept it all inside. Maybe she was new to this whole scene. Yes. That has to be it.
Now, I’m not a Makeup Professional and I can be easily confused with all the many variations in products and their applications, so I told her I was a Brow Artist and I was after some specific items. Then I explained how I intended on using them – to which she only stared at me blankly like I had just coughed or something.
From my previous experiences at the makeup counter, this particular cosmetics company has always had a fantastic reputation for service, sales and makeup application. Their staff are always professional. They look immaculate and, generally, they know their shit.
I have worked in retail so I know the importance of at least trying to make a multiple unit sale. I was ready to be bombarded with products I just can’t live without and overwhelmed with multiple demonstrations on how to combine all of the marvellous techniques from all of her skilled learnings. At bare minimum, I was prepared to walk away with at least three expensive ‘must haves’.
Instead, my under zealous sales “professional” continued an attempt at selling me a whole one item like she almost knew what do do with it, before rushing me to the sale register. The product was quickly in the bag with its receipt and BOOM! I was done.
It was clear that her work colleague (the cute gay boy with the searing attitude who had just walked onto the counter) was obviously more interesting to play with at work than her (paid) reason for being here: trying to sell me stuff.
Damn! I should have lingered a little longer when I was waiting to be served, as he clearly had a better understanding of personal eyebrow makeup application than my clown-browed Artiste.
Oh, and through all of the distraction and confusion I didn’t quite get to mention that I would have liked to be shown to some green concealer or alternatives if you had the time … but … umph… you know what? I can get that at Mecca.
To misquote and paraphrase RuPaul: “If you can’t beat your own Brows, how the Hell you gonna beat somebody elses? Can I get an “Amen” up in here?”
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