By Tim Sanders

Last week I wrote a column which was construed, by many readers, to be critical of either 1) my wife, 2) thrift stores, or 3) a combination of my wife and thrift stores. Here is a sampling of the mail I’ve received:

A. "You should be thankful your wife shops at thrift stores. My wife won’t enter a store unless it has armed guards at the door and a strictly enforced dress code."
 

B. "My wife Charlene bought her a bracelet at a thrift store last month for $1.98, and she says it is genuine gold plate. She also bought me a whole bag of previously owned boxer shorts for $3, and the stains washed out real good."
 

C. "Why don’t you write about something we oldsters find hilarious, like vending machines in the schools?"

So perhaps I missed the mark where thrift stores are concerned; but I still maintain that there is a huge difference between how men and women comport themselves in stores–thrift or otherwise. The difference, probably deeply rooted in our primordial history, is that women "shop" and men "buy."

Let me explain.

Let’s say a man finds a hole in his sock. Since we’re speculating, let’s say that this hypothetical man with the theoretical hole in his supposed sock decides to purchase another sock.

MAN’S TRIP TO THE STORE TO PURCHASE SOCK:

1. In a perfect world, every town would have a sock store. Not just a sock store, but since all men know you need two kinds of socks–black and white–there would be a black sock store and a white sock store.

2. And in that perfect world, we would be able to purchase just one sock to replace the one with the hole. After all, you don’t buy an entire set of new tires when you have a blowout on the right front.

3. Since we do not live in a perfect world, however, the man knows that he must purchase an entire pair of socks. And he must purchase them in a large department store which also sells other merchandise. On the plus side, he will not have to rotate his socks every 2.000 miles.
 

4. The man takes a slightly used napkin and compiles his list, which consists of: "sock."

5. He heads to the department store, intent on purchasing his sock (or socks). His sole purpose is to get into the store, get those socks, and get out as quickly as possible. He is no fool. He knows that there are bad people in the department store, whose main objective is to separate him from his money.

6. He checks his list once more. Yep, "sock." He adjusts his blinders, walks directly to the sock department, and finds a pair which are the right color. He purchases the pair of socks, and strides purposefully out of the danger zone. In and out in just three minutes.

7. He is back home before the halftime show is over.
 

Now let’s say a woman finds a hole in her husband’s sock. Let’s say that she darns the sock, but the darned sock doesn’t satisfy her aesthetic sensibilities. She decides he needs more socks.

WOMAN’S TRIP TO THE STORE TO PURCHASE SOCK:
 

1. The woman does not long for a perfect world. As far as she is concerned, a large department store is the perfect world.

2. She is after socks, but there will be other things she’ll need. The notion of going to the department store for just one pair of socks makes no more sense to her than going to the grocery store for just one loaf of bread, or to McDonald’s for just one french fry. She does not make a list, however, since she knows that when she sees what she needs, she’ll recognize it. She is a pro.

3. Once inside the store, she surveys the territory. It is familiar territory, and friendly, too. There are no bad people in her department store, only helpful people–kind, generous souls who want nothing more than to help her find things she may not have even realized she needed. A warm feeling washes over her. God is good.
 

4. She is immediately distracted by some blouses near the door. They are lovely, and they are on sale. She must buy some of them, since they are not simply "for sale," but also "on sale." That is how she saves money. She would buy a $140 toothpick if it were "on sale." Then there is an aisle full of pant suits, and another with some wonderful deals on lingerie. There are some precious baby clothes which, now that she thinks about it, would look lovely on her new great niece. And there is a whole shelf full of those little bug pins she’s been collecting. And there’s the shoe department. She always needs shoes. She stockpiles them, in case Middle Eastern terrorists decide to contaminate our nation’s vital leather sling pump supply. And she hasn’t even gotten to the housewares department.

5. After several exhausting hours, she "hits the wall," as shoppers say. Fortunately, the wall she hits is only sheet rock, and near the luncheonette, where she fortifies herself with a chef’s salad, drinks a quart of Gatorade, pours bottled water over her head, adjusts her knee pads and forges onward. Like Lance Armstrong and his bicycle, she and her shopping cart are in the zone, now. She’s found her second wind. She doesn’t just buy, she shops. She is not after any particular thing, she has no concrete objective, but shops by a process of free association which involves looking at a package of underwear on a shelf and saying, "Underwear ... that reminds me, I’ll need a gallon of Clorox bleach. And speaking of bleach, I’ll need some hair dye too, and flea soap for the kitty, and ..."
Even if a man’s last pair of underwear has been destroyed in an unfortunate weed whacking accident earlier that week, he will not notice the underwear. His list only says "sock," and his list is his Bible.

6. So by the time Mrs. Shopperperson arrives home the following morning, she may well have spent a king’s ransom and completely forgotten the socks. No matter, she has accomplished her primary purpose–shopping.

I have seen men in department stores, shopping with their wives. Their eyes are dull and sunken, and they avoid your gaze. They do not want your pity, they only want to escape. Once, years ago, a man who’d been taken shopping with his wife, probably as punishment for some minor infraction, broke free from his leash. It was in a J. C. Penny store in Gadsden–you probably remember the incident. He bounded through the double doors and raced into the parking lot, where he was struck by a delivery truck. It was very sad. A man forced to go shopping with his wife deserves a medal. One who goes voluntarily deserves a straightjacket.