This recession may have changed my spending habits, but not my haunting habits.

Yes, my friend Bear and I can still be seen doing our weekly patrol of Fashion Fair on any given day, making our rounds of the clearance racks at Hot Topic and Urban Outfitters, plunking down as little change as possible for a cute top or pair of earrings.

It̢۪s always been a fun and relaxing pastime; we can take our time and browse while catching up on some gossip and quality girl-time without the nagging of an impatient mother or the watchful eye of a paranoid boyfriend.

But that was before the attack of the desperate salespeople, in their relentless pursuit of that ever-elusive sale.

It used to be just a simple “Hi, how are you?â€Â but these days it seems as if, no matter which store you enter, it’s never just a simple greeting anymore. It’s: “Hi, how are you? Do you need help finding anything? Jeans are buy one, get one half off today. If you need any help, just let me know. And be sure to let the manager know that Daniel helped you today.â€Â

I wish I could tell you I was exaggerating, but sadly, I̢۪m not. I was the recipient of this exact dissertation only a few weeks ago.

Now, I understand that times are tough and that these people are just trying to do their best to stay afloat in an increasingly sober retail industry, where jobs are quickly going the way of the dinosaur.

But come on. Trailing someone around Claire̢۪s with a shopping basket for their nonexistent purchases is more than just a little creepy.

And the kiosk people are worse. There̢۪s this one vendor in particular that we pass on our way to JC Penney̢۪s, right outside Forever 21, where the salespeople hock their lotion samples, almost as if their very lives depended on a sale.

At first we were polite, declining their offers with a smile and a “No, thank you.â€Â

Then they’d start tripping us up with questions like, “Can I ask you something?â€Â or “What do you put on your nails?â€Â

If you stop, you̢۪re a goner, which is why I speed up and avoid eye contact, dragging my shopping companion along behind me.

But this last time I actually got scared.

Bear and I were strolling along at a leisurely pace, oblivious of the vendors, totally caught up in conversation.

“Would you like to try this?â€Â We shook our heads on our way past. Then, “Can I ask you something?â€Â

Maybe we shouldn’t have ignored her, because all of a sudden, her manager was keeping pace beside us. “You come by here every day, and you always say no,â€Â he said.

I automatically picked up speed, but Bear was slowing down. “Yeah, because it’s annoying,â€Â she said, squaring her shoulders, prepared for battle.

“She’s just doing her job,â€Â he said.

“Yeah, and like I said, it’s annoying to shoppers,â€Â Bear repeated. “I should know, I work in retail.â€Â

He said something else, but I was already halfway to the car by then. When I looked back, he was lighting up a cigarette outside the mall.

That was harassment, plain and simple. We probably should have reported it, but drove off instead. Bear was shaking.

What̢۪s next, a gun to the head?

Probably not, but I will flat out tell you that I won̢۪t even walk that way anymore; the next time I was at Fashion Fair, several days later, I walked around the outside of the mall.

How sad is that?