I'm Onto You, Nordstrom

I'm onto you, Nordstrom. I went to the mall today to buy a casual black belt and some socks, which I accomplished at another store, but somehow I ended up in your men's section. I'm not sure if it was your live piano player, or a deeper draw to my Swedish roots, but there I was. I entered with two friends, but was soon separated, yet not alone. Every few aisles I encountered your accomplices--beautiful women pretending their only concern was my shopping whim. They approached with disarming smiles, ready to trick me into buying $200 wallets and $100 t-shirts. At first I was ready for their friendly greeting with a witty response, but was disarmed by her keen comeback. Even so I managed to escape the frying pan, only to land in the fire, for along my escape route waited another of your customer service angels. She showed me a cologne that I didn't want, but suddenly needed. I agreed it smelled amazing. She offered to put some on me, just to see if I would like it over time. Fortunately, for the first time in years I had tried a sampler in a previous store, and explained that it would probably not give me a true sense of how it would be. I escaped your seductive grasp. I left your store without spending a dollar. I have overcome. I will see you next Monday.