Banana Republic Sales Rep Gives Honest Opinion: “Girl…You Got Junk-In-Your-Trunk.”

After treating myself to a Pinkberry pomegranate and chocolate chip yogurt, I went into Banana Republic to look for pants. Like most women, I dread shopping for pants. However, the sales rep revealed some important information…about my butt.

“Welcome to Banana Republic,” said the sales rep. “My name is Deon—I’ll start you a fitting room.”

“Thanks,” I said handing over the pants I just picked up.

“You grabbed the wrong size,” he said firmly.

“You see,” Deon said displaying the tag. “These are a size 4 and you’re a size 2.”

“Oh Deon,” I said blushing. “That’s really nice of you to say—but I’m really a size 4…..”

“Nope,” Deon said shaking his head. “You see, these pants here have stretch in them. I’ll get you the size 2—.”

Deon seemed like a man who knew women’s pants—who was I to argue?

“OK, thanks!” I said heading into the dressing room. I sat down waiting for him, enjoying my Pinkberry.

Knock, knock.

“Sarah-- It’s Deon. Here’s the size 2,” he said flinging the pants over the door.

“Thanks,” I said.

The pants only made it halfway up my thighs when I just knew that they were ridiculous. As I was taking them off, Deon knocked again.

“Sarah-- It’s Deon,” he said. “How do they look?”

“Sorry Deon, they don’t fit at all,” I said.

“Let me see,” said Deon.

“No, that’s okay,” I said. “Can you please grab me the size 4?”

“Get out here and show me,” Deon ordered.

I reluctantly pulled up the pants and poked my head out. “Deon, these don’t fit. I look ridiculous.”

Deon opened the door and coaxed me out.

“Turn around,” he said.

“No.” I replied.

“Girl—this is a dressing room,” said Deon.

“Okay, but I REALLY don’t like them,” I complained. “I have a hard time finding pants that fit and---"

“Turn around,” he interrupted.

“Alright…” I said turning around.

“DAMMMNNNN,” said Deon.

“What?” I asked, startled. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing from where I’m standing,” said Deon. “What’s going on back there?”

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“You’re packin’ it,” Deon said simply.

“Excuse me?” I asked.

“I said, ‘YOU-ARE-PACKIN’-IT back there,’” he repeated as if I had hearing problems.

“Are you serious?" I asked. "What does that even mean?"

“You know,” Deon said confidently. “You got ‘junk-in-your-trunk’.”

“Deon--that’s not nice,” I said.

“Of course it is…. its nice for me,” he said smiling. “I like me a big butt.”

“Wow. Okay, that’s just great--thanks alot.” I said. “So my butt is big?”

“Yep,” he replied.

“Deon, that’s not a good thing,” I replied. “Why would I want that?”

“Girl, you askin’ the wrong Brother,” said Deon staring at my butt. “I like them big.”

Deon is white.