Gather round dear readers, as I tell the holiday tale of the condescending Lululemon worker.

It was the week before Christmas, every shopping center full of people, absolutely no parking anywhere — essentially Los Angeles normally. I decided to venture out in to the scary world of last minute Christmas shoppers. I, of course, do my best shopping online, so this was not a trip for gifts, but rather a trip I had been meaning to get to for a few weeks now.

The destination you ask? Lululemon, home of the leggings every girl owns, the headband every girl owns, and you guessed it, home of the athleisure wearing, condescending retail worker. Now mind me, I am not one to ever openly give a bad review about a place, write a negative Yelp review, or even have a Yelp account for that matter. As an added disclosure, I would just like to add that I do not believe that every Lululemon worker is like this, nor do I believe every location is like this. This applies to the workers that “helped” me and the location nearest to my hometown.

So, let’s continue this nice holiday tale, shall we?

I planned a trip to Lululemon to speak to an associate at the store about a pair of leggings I had received less than three months ago, worn no more than five times, that had the worst pilling I have ever seen on any item of clothing. Pilling from the butt to the ankles, visible, and practically unwearable. I was aware of Lululemon’s “Quality Policy” and have even had a friend take a pair of year-old leggings with a rip in them back in exchange for new ones. No harm, no foul. With this knowledge and an immense amount of Googling and reading up on the quality policy, I decided to take my brand spankin’ new Lulus to the store nearest me to discuss this so called quality policy.

I enter the store and everyone looks nice enough. I’m wearing another pair of Lulu leggings I have, partly because I like them and partly to try and establish a sense of “she’s one of us” with the store workers. I immediately get asked if I need any help and I respond that I do, that I need to discuss the quality of some leggings I got about three months ago.

Immediately the mood shifts. I show the sales associate my horribly pilled leggings, and she looks at me with a face of disdain and also of slight amusement. Kind of an oxymoron, but I’m telling you, that’s what it was. The look in her eyes told me that I was about to be talked down to like it was nobody’s business.

Yeah, I was right. I tell her that I am washing them with my delicates on the gentle cycle, in a laundry bag, no fabric softener, air-drying them, you know those whole eight commandments of how to wash your crazy expensive pants. It’s hard to miss the instructions when they are on a 10-foot tag that if you don’t take out will easily dangle down in your butt crack. Also, this isn’t my first rodeo with Lulu leggings. I’ve been wearing leggings from them for over four years now.

She then proceeds to tell me that maybe I am not actually doing this. Maybe my laundry bag is made of a bad material. Yes, because there are so many different kinds of laundry bags that you can put your delicates in, right? Next, she tells me that maybe I’m washing them with shower or beach towels or something. Except for the fact that no, I’m not, and also, why would anyone wash their light white fluffy towels with their dark, athletic clothing. Also, why I am feeling the need to get incredibly defensive? I didn’t come here defensive, I wasn’t blaming anyone, I just wanted to have a friendly discussion about quality.

If I had messed up my pants I would have easily accepted that I made a mistake, been annoyed with myself for a little, and then moved on. This wasn’t about me trying to scam the system, it was about me trying to fix a pair of leggings that I really loved. But to this girl, it was about trying to blame me, make me feel bad, and look at me like I was an idiot who didn’t know how to do laundry.

She then walks me over to where I can find the un-pilled same pair of leggings, and then says, “Well, maybe you just don’t know how to handle this kind of material.”

Let that sink in. Maybe I should say it again.

“Well, maybe you just don’t know how to handle this kind of material.”

Oh, yeah. Did I forget to mention these were cotton? Only the most common material I have in my closet or, should I say, just about everyone’s closet.

Then she tries to sell me pants with a higher price so I can just pay the difference when all I wanted was the same pants I already had.

I finally release myself from her strangling grasp, and head to the counter to issue the swap, and a different girl helps me out. I can see the look of contempt as she rings up my new $0 pair of leggings as she holds my trashed, old (three months old to be exact) leggings. As I thank her she cuts me off and says, “Do you know how to take care of these? Like, has someone told you how to wash them properly?”

My response? Just a plain and simple, “yeah.”

I left that store so quickly, so annoyed, and so frustrated that I actually let someone probably no more than two years older than I am talk to me that way. Later, I went home and looked at the leggings online and read about 50 horrid reviews about them before I stopped reading. The number one complaint, you ask? Horrible pilling from butt to ankle. Would you look at that?

So, condescending Lululemon workers, next time you decide to pretend like it’s my fault for ruining a pair of obviously poorly made leggings, maybe you should check out your own website to see what hundreds of other people have to say.

And you, dear reader, can bet your bottom dollar that I have already gone back to the store to one, complain about the horrible treatment I received, and two, to exchange my leggings for ones that won’t pill like crazy for no reason.

Oh, and Lululemon, looks like you’ve just lost a fairly loyal customer. If you wonder where I’m heading for my athlesiure needs, check out Zella at Nordstrom. Better quality, cute styles, and half the price.

When life gives you lemons, you better hope they aren’t Lulus.