What happens when you go to the Louis Vuitton store to exchange something

I have honestly never experienced anything like this. Sometimes you think you are really the only one with a certain plan, until...

Under the pretext of ‘I'm pregnant with twins so I can pamper myself a bit’, I just bought slightly too expensive but the most beautiful earrings. From our friendly friends at Louis Vuitton. Yes, I know: I should save for a bottle warmer, a pacifier sterilizer, or a car seat, but sometimes you just want something that you definitely don't need. Something you also don't brag about at home to your husband. And in my case, it's about earrings. Gold, small v's. Subtle, only the connoisseurs know where they come from and what immense price tag is dangling. That's the charm. Plus: it helps that my husband has no clue what kind of earrings they are. In fact: he probably doesn't even see them.

Anyway. That's not the point. It's about the fact that I had ordered something else from our friendly friends at Louis Vuitton and that I wanted to exchange it for those cute v's for my ears. Off I went, full of hope and enthusiasm, receipt dutifully in my linen slobber bag. Because hey, a bag from LV is still a bit too much. That can only happen once I've already bought that bottle warmer, pacifier sterilizer, and car seat. So, exchanging. Tuesday morning, through drizzly Amsterdam, hop, on the rusty bike to P.C. Hooft.

I thought: this will be done in four seconds. They are happy I'm here. They welcome me with open arms. They are glad that there is one person on a Tuesday morning. Not so. At the door, I am stopped. By the hostess. I repeat: a hostess. With an iPad and a fanny pack with a thousand logos. ‘What are you here for?’ ‘Uhhhhh, I would like to exchange something.’ Suddenly, I regret not wearing mascara. ‘Absolutely fine. I'll put you on the list.’ On the list? I think. Then I look further. There are eight hundred thousand people in that store. As if there are free bags to be had. As if they are prizes from H&M, Primark, Zara. As if there is an 80 percent discount. This is no joke. There are really thousands of people and I have to stand in a queue. ‘But... How will you find me again when it's my turn?’ I stammer to the fanny pack. ‘There is a system for that,’ she nods, and whether I can go, because the door flaps open again.

Handbags, wallets, and suitcases are flying over the counter and without batting an eye, payments and orders are being made left, right, and behind me. Scarves are being draped around necks and sunglasses are being juggled on noses. I get a glass of water because I have to wait a bit. The tastiest, coldest, chicest water I have ever drunk. On a tray. Tourists fly in and try on fourteen pairs of shoes. They also buy eight. I don't know where to look anymore. Suddenly, I find those earrings a bit... Petit. Should I take that bag too? I'm starting to doubt. Because of all those four thousand people in front of me. Finally, it's my turn. After a confusing hour, I have the jewelry I came for in my hands. ‘Wow, what a hustle today,’ I say a bit dazed to the girl who is helping me and calmly packs the two v's in orange LV boxes. She smiles. ‘This is one of the quietest days I've had here in a while.’

I was so glad I could go home again.
And that I always order everything online.