An unsuccessful trip to the DI has got to be one of the most depressing things ever. For those of you not native to Utah, Deseret Industries is Utah's version of a mega chain thrift store. DI seems to draw from 2 main demographic pools for employees; the mentally handicapped, and the scary demographic. I commend DI for the former, and am slightly annoyed by the latter. I guess they are just trying to give everyone a chance. Today I saw a guy exiting the dressing room area. There were a pair of dress shoes sitting on the floor of one of the dressing rooms. One of the scary employees gruffly asked the patron, "Hey. Are those your shoes?"
"No," replied the patron.
"They aren't? You didn't just leave them there?"
"Yeah. Sure. Rrrriiight," quoth the asshole, as he was scrutinizing the patron's shoes, as though the guy was really going to trade the nice dress shoes in the dressing room for the disgusting hiking boots with the massive hole in the toe.
Or perhaps he was upset that he would have to return said shoes to their proper place. But since when was that task located outside the parameters of his job? What the hell else does he do in there all day, but put crap away? They certainly aren't washing or cleaning anything in that store, I'll tell you that much.
Which brings me to why being unable to find anything on a DI visit is so annoying. I never feel dirtier than after having rifled through a bunch of clothing at the DI. It all has a distinct, musty odor. Seriously, touching one article of clothing in that store leaves me feeling like I just slapped a leper. I can just mentally visualize all of the bacterial creatures mingling on my hands in an orgy of filth. And my eye always itches while I'm in there. But I am terrified to bring my hand anywhere near my ocular organ, for fear of contracting pink eye. Or maybe blindness.
So, as I walked to my car, rather than leaving with the satisfaction that I a) found a killer article of clothing for less than 6 dollars, b)contributed to the financial autonomy of various handicapped people, and c) probably furthered an alcohol addiction, I just left feeling dirty. I started putting my hands in my coat pockets, but then recoiled as though burned; the last thing I want to do upon leaving DI, was transfer my hand filth into my pockets.
Are there any quality thrift stores in Utah? Ones that won't make me feel alienated and depressed while shopping?