Good grief. How difficult can it be to sell a pair of lamps, a demo rug, and a bad fake plant? There must have been six sales idiots walking around, though most were watching the wide screen television at the front of the store. There was much attention paid to writing the item numbers down on a sales slip. Then a request that we carry our purchases back to the office to have the manager "approve the sale." When I refused, the manager came up and explained that each purchase must be approved because the company "audits twice a year and IF THE NUMBERS ARE WRONG ..." and then she gave us a strange look as though we might have a couple of her marbles in our pockets.
Oh, who gives a flying shit? All kinds of businesses undergo audits. Take the money, cut another notch on your tyrannosaurus rex inventory bone, and let's get on with it. But no, after the mandatory "approval" process there was a trek across the store to get to a credit card machine. Using a sales receipt book with carbon paper might have been quicker. Or bartering buffalo pelts.
If you find yourself tempted, let a responsible adult know where you are before you go. Or ask them to come with you. Buddy-breathing talent might come in handy.