It was 8pm last monday night, as I pulled into the cold and gusty parking lot. As I walked towards the glowing storefront, I thought about the item I had mind. It was a microfleece onesie, decorated with Christmas patterns that were so colorful that it could make even the wearer question his own sexuality. Not that I found it stylish in any manner, I was just trying to find an item that'd help me express my own festivity towards the upcoming holiday. And what better way to accomplish that, than giving to yourself? Not only that, it looked really damn comfortable, and far warmer than the t-shirts and gym shorts I've been sporting every night for as long as I can remember.

 

When I stepped into the store, my first motive was to locate the pajama aisle. Where was it again, near the young adult section? Nope. Perhaps back where the women's pj's are? Not there either. Goddamn, where can one find an associate in this awful store? After what must've been ten minutes of aimless wandering, I finally found the pajama section tucked snugly near the back of the establishment. Much to my avail, however, the onesie I was looking for was nowhere to be seen. I hoped that perhaps it was in another aisle. With every associate in the store hiding better than Osama bin Laden ever could, I made my way over to the store assistance counter in the back.

 

Once I reached the services department, I realized that my mission would be put on hold for a while. Being processed by only one lady, the line for the service department was painfully long. As a matter of fact, I would've made more progress by visiting the sweatshop that made the damn onesie rather than wait my turn in this stagnant queue.

 

After ten minutes of standing in line, I finally reached the counter. From there I learned that they DIDN'T carry the onesie, and that if I wanted a chance at finding anything similar to it they'd have to call an associate. After another ten minutes of waiting, an associate finally came to the back. From there, she led me to the alternatives they had in stock.

 

Let me just tell you how horrifying the set of PJ's she showed me were. While the ones I had eyed online looked cheesy, this set looked like it belonged on a fucking infant. Dotted with pastel bears and christmas trees, it disturbed me to think that these were advertised for adults, let alone unisex as well. The thought that there's cuckolds out there that unironically wear these made me shudder. Needless to say, I politely declined.

 

From there the associate led me back to where I was at square 1, the men's PJ aisle. Disappointed however not resolute, I decided to take another look at the garments they had in store. The union suits they had looked comfy, however I could imagine that spending more than thirty minutes in one would result in heat stroke in this California climate. Besides, I wasn't content with dressing up in what was basically a lazy black panther costume either. However, my eyes settled on a rack of comfy-looking sleep robes. I tried one on, and because of how well it fit I decided to buy a red plaid one.

 

Once I reached the checkout counter, I thought that my errand was finally over. That was until I tried to use my $10 off coupon, and the lady told me I needed $25 dollars of merchandise to use it. I was TWO DOLLARS short. Did buying food work? Of course not. Therefore, I spent another ten minutes wandering idly around the store, searching for a pair holiday socks so I could use my coupon. One thing you should know however, is that I left my coupons and robe on the checkout counter, and one of them was a $5 off coupon. An associate put these behind a counter for me, however it came with a price.

 

Once I found a suitable pair that said "up to snow good" (cause I'm a naughty boi), I brisked back to the counter and completed my transaction. I was relieved. After approximately an hour and forty minutes of wandering, waiting, and disappointment, I was free from the store's confines and could finally leave. It wasn't until I stepped in the car, however, that I realized that my $5 off coupon was missing. Pissed at myself, I rushed back across the parking lot and into the store.

 

I tried to tell the cashier about my situation, however she was helping a customer and was unable to assist me. I then talked to the lady who put my stuff behind the counter while I was gone, and she replied "I dunno, I know you had it before but I'm not sure what happened to it. It's your coupon". I guess that in customer service language, this means "Fuck you, not my problem!". I was beginning to lose my patience. After another two minutes of waiting to talk to the cashier again, I eyed a piece of paper that was laying on an empty register next to the cashier's face down. Was this it? "Fuck it", I thought. I snatched the paper, but much to my avail it was a 15% off coupon. I put it back and walked out of the store, defeated. I lost my hope, my patience and my five dollars, all thanks to that labyrinth of agonizing frustration. Fuck Kohl's, man.

 

Despite the experience I had, however, I must say that this robe I'm wearing is quite comfy. Maybe if I wear it long enough, it's cozy textile will wash away the angst from this hellish struggle. Either way, I'll think twice before stepping into that evil emporium again.