I see those beady eyes of yours staring at me through the window. Your desire for what I have is unsettling at the very least, but it’s a feeling I’ve grown accustomed to.
No longer do I shift awkwardly at my post while you scan my purple belted chiffon dress and the white diamond necklace that hangs at my breast. Instead of shying away when you compliment me on how the black Gucci leather bag brings out the blue in my eyes, I smile and wave you on.
You would think that I would grow tired of listening to the endless-looping string of popular songs during business hours, but I find the monotonous melodies soothing. The overhead speakers provide me with a distraction from the typical gossip storm of privileged spenders, and for that I’m grateful. It always surprises me how petty shoppers’ arguments are – let me tell you kids: when I was your age I wouldn’t ever think of bellyaching if my mom didn’t buy me the upgraded cell phone; I was lucky if I had a shirt to wear.
Nevertheless, you are human after all – I merely plastic. If I was fortunate to have such mobility and freedom, I imagine I would be as spoiled and arrogant as you all are. Just remember to see usthe next time you want to steal our handbags and put our clothes in a shopping basket.
We may be mannequins, but we have feelings too.