My shift at the big discount store was draggin’ on. It was a Tuesday afternoon, which meant things was slow, just a few folks pokin’ around the aisles. I was workin’ the returns desk, which is usually where all the weirdness happens. I’ve seen it all, folks tryin’ to return half-eaten food, empty boxes, you name it. It gets to a point where you kinda just expect trouble to show up, like a storm on the horizon. I can always tell when someone’s about to go off, too. It ain’t just the red face, but their breath gets this weird, sour, metal-like smell, like old pennies and somethin’ gone bad. It’s a real distinct thing, not just regular bad breath, but a sign they’re about to blow. I seen it enough times to know.
I was just rearrangin’ some half-opened packages of socks when I noticed her. She was maybe early twenties, not too old, walkin’ like she owned the place. She had on a super tight shirt that was kinda strainin’ at the seams, and some shorts that was a bit too short for the season. Her hair was bright pink, lookin’ like she’d done it herself with a box dye from the dollar store, and kinda messy. She had a face that looked like it was tryin’ real hard to be pretty, with a bunch of makeup that was a little heavy for daytime. You could tell she thought she was a real looker, the way she was holdin’ her head up high, almost like she was on a runway. Trailing behind her was a kid, maybe thirteen or fourteen, skinny as a rail and wearin’ headphones that was way too big for his head. He was just kickin’ at the floor, not payin’ attention to nothin’.
They walked past my counter, then she stopped dead in front of a big display of those fancy gaming chairs. You know, the ones with all the colored lights and the recline. They cost a pretty penny, and we don’t sell many of ’em. She pointed at one of the boxes with a long, painted nail that was chipped at the end. Her voice was kinda high-pitched and whiny, even when she was just talkin’ normal. She wasn’t talkin’ to me, just kinda to the air, sayin’ somethin’ about how she needed that chair, and it looked like it was on sale.
I didn’t say nothin’ at first, ’cause she wasn’t talkin’ to me. But then she turned, kinda flippin’ her pink hair, and looked right at me. “Excuse me,” she said, louder this time. “This chair here, it says it’s like half off, right? I need that one. It’s perfect for my streaming setup.” She said “streaming setup” like it was the most important thing in the world. I knew for a fact them chairs was full price. We just got ’em in last week. I kinda just blinked at her. There was no sign, no nothin’ sayin’ it was on sale.
“Ma’am,” I said, speakin’ slow and clear. “Them chairs are full price. They just came in. There ain’t no sale on them.” I tried to sound helpful, even though I already knew where this was goin’. That sour smell started to get a little stronger in the air.
She put her hands on her hips, makin’ her shirt pull even tighter. “What do you mean, no sale? It says right here!” She pointed at the box again, but there was still no sticker, no tag, nothin’ that said it was on sale. Just the regular price printed real small on the manufacturer’s label. “Are you tryin’ to tell me I can’t read? I saw a sign. It was right over there,” she waved her hand vaguely toward the frozen food section, which was nowhere near the chairs. “Fifty percent off! I deserve this discount. I’m a loyal customer, I buy all my stuff here.” I had never seen her before in my life.
Her kid, who had been pokin’ at a display of cheap toys, suddenly decided to get involved. He grabbed a little plastic squirty gun off the shelf, filled it with water from his soda cup, and started shootin’ it at the ceiling tiles. Water started drippin’ down near some electronics. I could see the kid kinda smirkin’ to himself, lookin’ to his mom for a reaction.
I sighed a little inside. “Sir,” I said to the kid, tryin’ to keep my voice even. “We can’t have that. Put that down, please.”
The mom whipped her head around. “Don’t you talk to my son like that! He’s just havin’ some fun! He can do what he wants. And you, you need to give me that chair for half price. I saw it. It’s a manager error, or somethin’. You have to honor it. It’s the law!” She was gettin’ louder now, and her face was flushin’ up. The sour smell was real strong. She pulled out her phone, holdin’ it up like she was gonna film me. “I’m gonna report you. You’re bein’ rude and unhelpful.”
“Ma’am,” I repeated, my voice still flat. I knew better than to argue with a screamin’ person. “There’s no sign. We don’t have a half-off sale on them chairs. If you’d like to speak to a manager, I can call one for you.” That’s usually the trick, offer the manager, make ’em feel like they’re gettin’ somewhere, even if the manager is just gonna say the same thing. I also pressed the little button under the counter that called for a manager, just in case. They usually show up in a few minutes.
She looked real surprised that I offered. Her mouth kinda hung open for a second. The kid, meanwhile, had moved on from the squirty gun and was now tryin’ to climb up a shelf of pet food, kickin’ at the bags. A big bag of dog food fell down and split open, spillin’ kibble all over the aisle. Nobody else was really payin’ attention to him, just to his mom, who was still kinda yellin’ at me about the chair.
“Fine! Get your manager! And tell them I want that chair, and I want it for FREE for my inconvenience! You are so disrespectful. I’m a paying customer!” She wasn’t listenin’ to a word I said. She started huffin’ and puffin’, almost like she was gonna stomp her foot. She glanced around, like she was lookin’ for other people to back her up, but everyone else was just tryin’ to look at the floor or their phones.
Just then, my manager, Brenda, walked up. She’s a no-nonsense type, been here twenty years. She took one look at the mess of dog food, then at the squirty kid who was now tryin’ to open a bag of birdseed, and then at the lady in front of me, whose face was purple now. Brenda didn’t say a word, just walked right past me to the lady. “Is there a problem here?” Brenda asked, real calm. I could smell the lady’s breath from over here, even stronger now with Brenda’s arrival.
The lady launched into her story, talkin’ super fast about the chair, the “sale,” my “rudeness,” and how her kid was bein’ “harassed.” She didn’t even mention the dog food or birdseed. Brenda listened, nodded, and then, without lookin’ away from the woman, she pulled her phone out and called someone. “Yeah, I need security to aisle seven. We got a minor causin’ property damage. And a customer refusin’ to leave.”
The lady’s eyes got big. “What? Property damage? He’s just a kid! And I’m not leavin’ without my chair!”
Brenda just looked at her, then pointed at the split-open dog food and the birdseed that was now spillin’ out of another bag the kid had ripped. “That’s property damage, ma’am. And you’re refusin’ to pay for the item you claim is on sale for half off, and now you’re demandin’ it for free. That ain’t how things work. You need to leave, or we’ll call the police.”
The lady sputtered, tryin’ to come up with somethin’ to say, but nothin’ came out. Her kid finally stopped rippin’ bags, lookin’ a little scared now that Brenda mentioned police. It was a couple minutes later when I heard sirens in the parking lot. Turns out, Brenda didn’t call our in-store security. She called the actual police from her personal cell, a trick she does sometimes when things are real bad. The police showed up, asked a bunch of questions, and the lady tried to deny everything, even though her kid was standin’ there covered in dog food dust and birdseed, and the squirty gun was still layin’ on the floor. In the end, they made her pay for all the damaged stuff, and told her she wasn’t allowed back in our store. She left huffin’ and puffin’, still tryin’ to act like she was hot stuff, but she had to walk past all them people starin’ at her. It felt kinda satisfying, even though it meant I had to clean up all that mess. Just another Tuesday, I guess.
