I picked them up, and took them to the counter to ask to try them on.
Me: I'd like to try these on please. Are there any changing rooms free?
Girl Behind Counter : Those are men's jeans.
Me: Yeah, I know, you haven't got my size in women's.
GBC: Women's clothes are over there. *points*
Me: Yeah, I know. But you don't have my size, and I like these ones.
GBC: But they are men's jeans. For men. Women's are over there. *points quite emphatically*
Me: Didn't I just say I know? You don't have my size, I want these ones. Are you going to let me try them on, or not?
GBC: *sighs* Fine. *Hands me a fitting room tag*.
Perhaps she was just used to really thick customers. But I think, given that i've just spent ten minutes rooting around in the pile to find my size, that I would have noticed the big sign saying "Men's" hanging over them, the fact that everyone else looking through the piles was a bloke, and that all the pictures had men on them.
Then I went back to the counter, having tried them on.
Me: Just these please *puts down jeans and a long sleeves top i've picked up*
GBC: That shirt is a boy's too.
Me: I'm sure i'll live.
GBC: Are you sure you want these.
Me: Are you going to sell them to me, or should I shop somewhere else?
GBC: *huffy sigh* Right.
I just don't understand why she didn't want to sell them to me. I mean, I walked in wearing a boy's top from there (almost the same as the one I was buying, just a different design on the front) jeans, workboots and a men's leather coat. It's not as though I came in as some little girly-girl.
Oh, and the jeans fit perfectly.