i'm like a bowl in a china shop. hm? a bull? oh. that does make more sense.

it was like this:
*touch*
thk-thk-thk-thk-thk-thk-thk-thk-thk-thk-thk-thk-thk-thk-thud.
the sales lady spins on her heel,  and, surveying the scene, sarcastically voices her thoughts on the matter: "wow. NICE one. reeeaallllly great..."
my mouth is an "o"; i'm at the wrong end of a long row of toppled boots, arm still outstretched, shriveling under the death glare of someone who probably needs to think of a better way to display boots.
boots everywhere. tsk tsk tsk.

to be fair, said sales lady later apologized and said she thought i was her friend and co-worker sherri, or she wouldn't have talked to me, a customer, that way.
to be fair again, except to me this time, they shouldn't set boots up like dominos if they don't want them to fall like dominos.