My normal approach is four steps: (1) find the men's section; (2) grab either Degree or Axe for men; (3) pop the caps and smell a few; and (4) purchase one that I don't think a woman, if I ever met one, would find offensive. I don't even look at the name of the scent. Gone in 30 seconds.
Last night required a different procedure. For there in front of me was a family. An impenetrable wall of family. Here's a rough approximation of the configuration:
__________________________
W < > S K H
G < > Me
__________________________
W = Woman in her late twenties, with a shopping cart (< >) parallel to the aisle facing S.
S = W's sister, I think. A little younger.
K = Kid, an 8 year old girl
H = Husband of woman, slightly younger, and definitely NOT in charge.
G = W's mom (the grandmother) with her own shopping cart (< >) also parallel to the aisle.
The deodorant is on the north side of this aisle. W, G, and S are in the women's section. K and H are in the men's section. K is lifting the cap off of ev-e-ry...single...container, and sniffing them all -- as if she's in some sort of timed deodorant sniffing contest. God knows what this will do to her brain development.
H, flummoxed by all the choices, has a blank look on his face. He's not frustrated by how much time they are spending here. He's not even resigned to it. He's just floating in his own space.
W and S are discussing the various scents of women's deodorants. W then shrieks (literally): "Oh my God*, they have Classic Romance." Classic Romance? Yes, that's the name of a women's scent. Talk about marketing! There's nothing romantic about deodorant. I actually thought she was kidding, but S and G lean in for a whiff.
*Degree has its own line of deodorant for teenage girls and it's tag line is "Protection for every OMG moment."
W then tells H: "You should get this." H, not knowing what else to do, says "If you think so." Yeah, H is going to be wearing Classic Romance. I think H might be in the Navy (we are near NAS Jax, and he has a short haircut).
But wait, W isn't done. She blurts to the group: "John (this is H's name), you really should get 'clinical protection'." I'm feeling uncomfortable. Not only am I spending waaaayyy too much time in the deodorant aisle, but I now have the sinking feeling I'm going to get TMI about H's b.o. G chimes in "Yes, John, that's very strong. Doctors recommend it."
Doctors recommend deodorant? When? I've never seen a commercial that says "4 out of 5 doctors we surveyed recommend Degree Clinical Protection." How bad do you have to smell to get a doctor's recommendation for deodorant. I decide to hold my breath, just in case.
I've had enough. It's Saturday night, and I may not have any plans, but I'm NOT going to be stuck in a deodorant colloquium.
Here's the aisle again, in a bigger view. My plan is represented by the dashed lines:
__________________________
W < > S / K H
--- \
G < > \
-----Me
__________________________
That's right, moving quickly to my left, I execute a slashing maneuver, and using my left hand, I reach up and over the kid for some men's Degree. The family looks at me like I've just walked through their living room on my way to their backyard. I leave quickly.
On the way to the counter I sneak a peek. I got Degree "Power." Look out y'all.
