I was just trying to get through my grocery list, you know? It was a Tuesday afternoon, usually not too busy, which is why I like going then. I had my cart, just rolling along, thinking about what I needed for dinner. It was a normal day. Nothing special. I was just focused on finding some ripe avocados, that’s all. I really like a good avocado with my eggs in the morning, and the ones here are usually pretty good. Sometimes they’re too hard, sometimes too soft, but you gotta check each one, right?
So I was in the produce section, just minding my own business, giving a little squeeze to a few of the avocados on the big display, trying to find that perfect one. You know, the one that gives just a little bit, not too much. That’s when it happened. A woman just walked right up to me, real close, and her voice was kinda sharp. She didn’t even say excuse me or nothing. Just started talking like I was supposed to know what she wanted.
“Where do you keep the artisan cheese? The really good kind, not that pre-packaged stuff near the deli,” she said. Her tone was like she was asking something super obvious, and I was just being slow not to answer right away. I pulled my hand away from the avocados. I felt a little confused for a second. I guess I must’ve looked like I was thinking really hard about the avocados because she didn’t give me a chance to say anything. She just kept going, like I was already on the clock and wasting her time.
“I’ve been looking for five minutes already. It should be with the specialty stuff, but I can’t find it anywhere. Is it in the back? Did you move it again?”
My eyebrows probably went up a bit. I held up my hands, like a stop sign. “Ma’am, I don’t work here,” I said, plain and simple. I thought that would be the end of it. Just a little misunderstanding, happens all the time, right? People sometimes mistake regular shoppers for employees, especially if you’re standing still and looking at something like you know what you’re doing. But she just stared at me. Her mouth kinda opened a little bit, like she was surprised, but not in a good way.
“What do you mean, you don’t work here? You’re standing right here! And you’re looking at the fruit like you’re taking inventory,” she snapped back. I felt my shoulders tense up a little. My chest got tight. I really hate it when people don’t listen. It’s a pet peeve of mine. I just wanted to finish my shopping, not have an argument with a stranger.
“No, I really don’t. I’m just trying to pick out some avocados for my breakfast. See? My shopping cart is right here,” I explained, gesturing to my cart that was half full of stuff already. It had some pasta and a box of cereal in it, clearly not a store cart. I thought that would make it obvious. Most store employees don’t push their own half-filled carts around while working. But she just narrowed her eyes. It was clear she wasn’t buying it.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you work here. You’re wearing a blue shirt,” she said, pointing at my shirt. I looked down. It was just a plain, light blue t-shirt. Nothing with a logo, nothing that looked like a uniform. I mean, half the people in the store probably had on some shade of blue. It was just a comfortable shirt. My hands started to clench a little. This was getting annoying real fast. A tiny pulsing started behind my eyes. I felt a headache coming on. My voice came out a little sharper than I intended.
“It’s just a shirt, lady. I buy my clothes at regular stores, not from a uniform catalog. I’m a customer, just like you. I literally just told you I don’t work here. Why would I lie about that?”
She just scoffed. “Oh, please. You’re trying to avoid helping me. I know how you people are. Just point me to the artisan cheese. It’s not that hard. Or are you new? Is that why you’re being so difficult?”
My mind was racing now. My internal temperature felt like it was going up a few degrees. How many times did I have to say it? I don’t work here. I wanted to just walk away, but she was blocking my cart, kinda standing right in front of me. I took a deep breath. I needed to calm down. Getting mad wasn’t going to solve anything. I just wanted my avocados.
“Look, I truly do not work here. I can’t help you find anything because I don’t know where anything is that you’re asking about. I’m just here to buy my groceries. There’s a cashier over by the front, or maybe someone stocking the shelves in the next aisle. You should ask one of them,” I suggested, trying to be helpful, even though my patience was wearing thin. I made a move to step around her, but she moved with me, still blocking my path. My heart started beating a little faster. My jaw tightened.
“No! You are going to help me. I asked you first. You’re supposed to help customers. That’s your job. If you don’t want to do your job, maybe you shouldn’t be working here. I’m going to report you to your manager. This is absolutely unacceptable service!” she bellowed. She actually raised her voice. Now other shoppers were starting to look over. My face felt hot. My cheeks were probably bright red. I could feel my blood pounding in my ears.
“I am not an employee! There is no manager for you to report me to here! I just want to finish my shopping!” I said, my voice rising to match hers. I felt incredibly angry now. This was beyond frustrating. This woman was completely unreasonable. I didn’t know what else to say. It felt like talking to a brick wall. My hands were balled into fists, though I tried to keep them loose at my sides.
I looked around desperately, hoping to spot an actual employee, someone with a store vest or a name tag. Finally, I saw a young guy in an orange apron pushing a stack of boxes on a dolly near the canned goods aisle, a few aisles over. He was wearing the actual uniform. This was my chance. I pointed vigorously at him, trying to get her to look. “See? Look! He works here! Go ask him! He has an apron!”
But she didn’t even glance over. Her eyes were fixed on me, wide with what I could only describe as pure outrage. She started to shake her head frantically, like I was suggesting something absolutely outrageous. Her face was getting red too. “You are trying to pawn me off on someone else?! After I asked you specifically for help?! This is even worse! I demand that you help me right now! Or I’m going to make sure you lose your job! I know the owner of this store. My cousin’s brother-in-law went to high school with him!”
My vision started to go a little blurry around the edges. I could feel my muscles locking up. This was it. This was the final straw. She wasn’t going to let me go. She was demanding I do something I couldn’t do, threatening me, and making a huge scene. I could feel the blood rushing to my head. My entire body was vibrating with pure rage. It felt like an electric current was running through me. I didn’t even hear what she was saying anymore, just a high-pitched buzz mixed with the ringing in my ears. I saw red. The anger was like a tidal wave crashing over me, and I lost all control. The next thing I knew, my hand was out, pushing her. Not a gentle push. A hard push. She stumbled back, caught off balance, and let out a surprised cry as she bumped into a display of organic apples, sending them rolling across the floor.
Suddenly, there were other hands on me. Someone was grabbing my arm, pulling me back. I heard shouts, and the voice of the guy in the orange apron, much closer now, sounding surprised. I was being pulled backward, away from her. My breathing was ragged, my chest heaving. I could still see her on the floor, surrounded by apples, looking up at me with a shocked expression, her mouth still open. People were gathering around. My arm was still being held tightly by someone I couldn’t quite see through the haze of fury. I heard sirens in the distance, getting louder. My heart was still pounding like a drum against my ribs.
