I was just trying to get some things done at the big grocery store. It was kind of busy but not too bad. I was looking real hard at the different kinds of coffee, trying to figure out which one I wanted. My head was buzzing a little from all the choices. I was holding a bag of fancy-looking coffee and reading the words on it, trying to see if it sounded good.
Then, a woman came up real close. She didn’t say excuse me or nothing. She just stood there, huffing a little. I looked up, kinda surprised. She had a tight look on her face, like she was annoyed already. Before I could even ask if she needed something, she just blurted out, “Where are the pickles? I’ve been looking for ages!”
My brow furrowed. I wasn’t sure why she was asking me. I was just a regular person, you know? I held up the coffee bag a little, like to show her I was shopping. “Oh, sorry,” I said, trying to be nice. “I don’t actually work here.”
The woman blinked at me. Then she let out a little snort. “Don’t be silly,” she said. Her voice got a bit sharper. “You’re wearing a blue shirt, just like all the other people who work here. Now, just tell me where the pickles are. I don’t have all day.”
I felt a knot start to form in my stomach. It wasn’t even a blue shirt, it was more of a faded grey. And it had a band logo on it, not a store logo. I took a deep breath. “No, really,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. “I’m just a customer. I’m shopping for myself. I don’t know where the pickles are.”
She put her hands on her hips. Her face was turning a little red. “This is ridiculous,” she said loudly. A few other people walking by glanced at us. My cheeks started to feel hot. “You’re being difficult. Just point me to the aisle. It’s your job to help customers.”
A throbbing started behind my eyes. I was starting to get really annoyed. I put the coffee back on the shelf with a bit more force than I meant to. “I am telling you,” I said, my voice rising a little. “I DO NOT work here. I am NOT an employee. I cannot help you find anything!”
Her eyes got wide. She looked totally offended. “How dare you speak to a customer like that!” she practically shrieked. “That is absolutely unprofessional! I demand to speak to your manager right now! You are going to be in so much trouble for this attitude! I’m going to make sure you get fired!”
My fists clenched at my sides. A tremor ran through me. I could feel my whole body tensing up. It was all I could do not to yell back at her. “I don’t have a manager here!” I snapped, my voice shaking a little. “Because I DON’T WORK AT THIS STORE!”
She scoffed, a loud, disbelieving sound. “Oh, I’m sure you do,” she said, her voice dripping with nastiness. “And you think you can just refuse to help people? This is the worst service I have ever received in my life! You are lazy and unhelpful! I’m going to report you to corporate! You’ll never work in retail again!” She started looking around like she was searching for someone official, her head swiveling from side to side.
I felt a deep flush spread across my face and neck. My jaw was tight. I was so angry, I could barely think straight. My chest felt tight, like a band was wrapped around it. I wanted to just turn and walk away, but she was blocking me a little, and her words were like little sharp needles, poking at me. She kept muttering things about how rude I was and how she was going to get me fired. It felt like forever, just standing there, with her glaring at me and making threats. My head began to pound.
Suddenly, a man appeared next to her. He put a hand on her arm. “Honey?” he said, his voice calm. “Is everything alright? I thought you were just going to grab some pickles.”
The woman turned to him, still fuming. “This… this terrible employee refuses to help me! She’s been so rude and uncooperative! I’m going to get her fired!”
The man looked at me, then at her. He gave me a quick, apologetic look, a little shrug, before turning his full attention back to her. “Honey,” he said, gently pulling her arm. “I think you have the wrong person. This person isn’t wearing a uniform. Let’s just go find the pickles ourselves, alright? I think I saw them down aisle seven, near the canned goods.” He started to steer her away, his hand still on her arm.
She still looked mad, but she let him lead her. She kept muttering under her breath, sending one last glare my way as he guided her off toward the back of the store. I watched them go, feeling like all the air had been let out of me. My shoulders slumped. I just stood there for a minute, trying to catch my breath, before I could even think about getting my coffee again.
