All I Wanted Was Some Under Eye Concealer

After Tuesday's trip to the Apple store, I zoomed by Belk's to pick up some under-eye concealer from Clinique. I had no idea the horrors that awaited me. 

First of all, for you men out there, you need to know there are make-up hygiene rules that are determined by the very companies selling women overpriced product to begin with. Mascara is supposed to be replaced every other month, lipsticks each year, foundation every six months, etc. 

I don't know a single woman who follows these rules. Who the hell tracks how long they've owned an eye-shadow? Personally, I think the whole bacteria thing is a myth. I made it two years once on a single vial of mascara and lived to tell the tale. 

Which is why I had no issues using the under-eye concealer I found in a small green Clinique jar buried in my make-up tray. Mind you, I haven't set foot near a Clinique counter in well over eight years so there's no telling the age of this make-up. But I've been dabbing it on for the past 6 months with no noticeable dire outcome.

Then I ran out. Which is why yesterday I found myself facing a white lab-coat wearing Clinique technician. She had an accent I couldn't place. Nothing delicate, but something that made me think her native tongue was one of those thick burly languages filled with long rows of guttural growls and consonants.

"Yes ma'am, help you?" she barked at me.

I gave an embarrassed laugh. "I don't even know if you still make what I'm looking for. I'm looking for an under eye concealer that comes in a small green jar." I held my hands up to mimic the size.

She walked around to my side of the counter and we stood in front of the samples. 

"Here. Green," she said pointing. 

"Um, yes, but I need concealer, not foundation."

She grabbed a wand of something. "This?"

"Ah, maybe. Like I said, the one I have now is in a small green jar so I don't know if it's the same as..."

She pointed back to her original green jar. "Here. Green." 

"Right. But I need concealer." 

We did this routine for a few minutes, with her growing ever more frustrated as I rejected her choice of green jars. 

"You know what? The green isn't important," I finally said. "I just need under eye concealer."

"For fine lines or dark circles?" She glared at the space underneath my eyes as if daring me to lie. 

"Dark circles."

She nodded, satisfied with my answer. Pulling out a small tube and brush she nodded at a chair. "You sit." 

I sat and she dabbed concealer under my left eye. "Yes, perfect match. You need to apply with brush though. You have brush?"

"How much is the brush?"

"$16.50. You must apply with brush."

"I'm pretty sure I have a brush at home, so I'll just take the the concealer."

She frowned. "This good brush."

"I'm sure it is. I just have one at home I think will work."

"This brush anti-bacterial. Only $16.50. Use brush makes huge difference."

My defenses were caving. "Well, if the one I have at home doesn't work, I'll come back."

"Yes. Under eye concealer brush." 

She rang up my concealer and asked if I wanted a bag or if I just wanted to put it in my purse. 

"I'll carry it," I said. 

However, that day I had my computer bag with me and had just grabbed my wallet out of the bag, so I didn't actually have the purse. When she saw me scoop up the concealer and receipt in my hands, she looked horrified. 

"Oh ma'am, ma'am, no, I give you bag," she said, trying to tug the product out of my grasp.

"Really, it's fine," I said tugging back. "I don't want to waste a bag. My car is right outside."

She looked doubtful but let me go. I'm sure she went home that night and told her family about this insane woman she waited on who insisted on buying product out of a green jar, lied about having a make-up brush at home, then refused a perfectly good bag even though the woman was obviously too poor to afford to carry a purse. 

I went thorough a lot to get this concealer. It better last me a good five years.