My mother told a funny story over lunch today about how she went to a yarn store recently to buy a stitch counter. She knew what she wanted, but she allowed the clerk to talk her into one she didn't want. So she waited until a day when he wasn't working so she could return it, because dude. She was kind of afraid of him and his forceful opinions about stitch counters.
My sister-in-law and I grabbed the table edges and GASPED because we have both been there--intimidated, nay BULLIED by sales clerks.
How can this be? Grownup, independent women cowed by clerks. Who knew?