I was working at the pet store, my favorite yellow socks hidden under my work pants. Sometimes I like to look down and see them and it makes me smile. It was a slow afternoon, the kind where the store music just blends into the hum of the fish tanks. I was at the front counter, trying to remember if I had moved the new shipment of rabbit toys to the back or if they were still by the bird seed. My brain is like that sometimes, a little bit like a cloud just floating by.
Then Ms. Eleanor came to the counter. She had her cat, Bartholomew, in a fancy carrier with little mesh windows. Bartholomew is a big, fluffy Persian cat, and he always looks very serious. Today, he looked especially serious, maybe a little sleepy. Ms. Eleanor had a few items, mostly specialty cat food and a new feather wand toy. But then she put a small, very special cat scratcher on the counter. It was one of those new ones made from recycled cardboard that looked like a tiny, modern sculpture. We only got two in, and the other one sold this morning.
Ms. Eleanor is a smart lady. She always knows a lot about pet care and she plays a lot of card games, like bridge, with her friends. She talks about it sometimes. She was telling me how Bartholomew really needed this scratcher because the old one was getting worn down and he was starting to eye her new sofa. Bartholomew made a little huffing sound from his carrier, almost like he was agreeing.
I was scanning her items, moving a little slower than maybe I should. My mind was still thinking about those rabbit toys. Then the door chimed, and a young man walked in. He looked about 22 or 23, with perfectly styled hair and a big, bright blue jacket. He had a look on his face like he knew exactly what he wanted and that he was going to get it. He looked around the store, not really seeing the fish or the birds, but like he was scanning for something specific. His eyes landed on the scratcher on my counter.
He came right up, not even waiting for Ms. Eleanor to finish her purchase. He leaned over the counter, pointing at the scratcher. His voice was loud, like he was talking to everyone in the store, not just me.
He said, Can I get that one? I need that scratcher right now. My girlfriend wants it for her cat, and I told her I would get it for her. This is the last one, right?
I blinked a few times. I looked at Ms. Eleanor, who had stopped putting her credit card in the machine. Bartholomew let out another little huff from his carrier. Ms. Eleanor looked at the young man, then at me.
I said, Oh, I am so sorry, sir. Ms. Eleanor is just buying this one. It is the last one we have, yes.
The young man frowned. He crossed his arms. He looked at Ms. Eleanor like she was a bug he had just found on the floor. He said, Well, she has not paid for it yet, has she? So it is still fair game. I need it more. My girlfriend is having a bad week, and this would really cheer her up. I drove all the way over here just for this. I saw it online.
Ms. Eleanor gently took her credit card out of the machine. She put it back in her purse. Her voice was calm, but also a little bit like a sharp knife. She said, Young man, I was here first. I put this item on the counter. My cat, Bartholomew, has already approved it. It is mine.
Bartholomew let out a definite meow, not a huff this time. It sounded like he was standing up for himself.
The young man laughed, a loud, scoffing sound. He said, Your cat? What does your cat have to do with anything? This is ridiculous. I am telling you, I need this. I am a good customer here. You do not want to upset me. I spend a lot of money in this store.
I felt a little bit dizzy. My head felt like it was full of cotton. I did not like when people got upset. I tried to make things nice for everyone. I said, Maybe we can order another one for you, sir? It might take a few days, but I can check to see if our warehouse has any left.
He waved his hand at me. He said, No, I need it today. I do not have time to wait for a warehouse. This lady can just pick out a different one. There are plenty of other scratchers, ugly ones, over there.
Ms. Eleanor’s eyes narrowed. She picked up the scratcher and held it closer to herself. She said, There are indeed many other scratchers, young man. Perhaps you should look at those. This one, however, is not for sale to you.
The young man leaned further over the counter, trying to see past Ms. Eleanor. He was trying to look at the scratcher. He said, Come on, just give it to me. I will pay you extra for it. I will pay you more than she is paying. Is that not how it works? Highest bidder?
I started to feel a little bit warm. My cheeks were getting pink. I did not like this. We do not do bidding in the pet store. I said, No, sir, that is not how it works. The price is the price. And she was here first.
Just then, a cell phone started ringing very loudly from somewhere behind the young man. It was one of those old-fashioned ringtones, like a bell. An older man, who had been waiting patiently in line, pulled out a large, clunky flip phone. He answered it and immediately started talking very loudly about his garden tomatoes. He was telling the person on the phone about a new fertilizer he had used. The whole store could hear him. It was very distracting, and it made the air feel even more messy.
The young man got even more annoyed. He glared at the man on the phone, then turned back to us. He slammed his hand on the counter. It made Bartholomew jump inside his carrier, and the cat let out a very angry growl. Ms. Eleanor looked down at her cat and gently patted the carrier. Her face was very calm, but her eyes were very sharp.
He said, This is ridiculous! You are telling me I cannot buy something that is right here? This is bad customer service! I am going to call your manager. What is your manager’s name?
I felt a little scared. I do not like when people yell. I said, My manager’s name is Mr. Henderson. I can call him for you if you like. He is in the back, restocking the dog food.
He pointed a finger at me. He said, Yes, call him! Tell him you have a very important customer who is being denied a purchase because of some old lady and her silly cat!
Ms. Eleanor raised an eyebrow. She said, You really think this is a good idea, young man?
I quickly picked up the store phone and pressed the button for Mr. Henderson. I told him there was a problem at the front, and he said he would be right out. I put the phone down and looked at the young man. He was still puffing himself up, looking very important.
Mr. Henderson arrived a few minutes later, pushing a cart full of big bags of dog food. He is a tall man, and he always looks a little tired. He saw the situation and sighed. He put the cart aside and walked over. He looked at the young man, then at Ms. Eleanor, then at me.
He asked, What seems to be the trouble here?
The young man immediately started talking, very fast, explaining how he had been denied the scratcher that Ms. Eleanor had. He said it was unfair and that he was a much better customer and that Ms. Eleanor was just being difficult. He even brought up his girlfriend again, saying how important this scratcher was for her bad week.
Ms. Eleanor waited for him to finish. She was very patient. Then, in her calm, sharp voice, she explained that she had chosen the item, placed it on the counter, and was in the process of paying when the young man tried to take it from her. She even showed Mr. Henderson Bartholomew, who was now peeking out of his carrier, looking very regal.
Mr. Henderson listened to both of them. He looked at me for a moment, and I just nodded my head, trying to agree with Ms. Eleanor, because she was right. He sighed again. He turned to the young man.
He said, Sir, Ms. Eleanor was here first. The item was already purchased, in essence, when she brought it to the counter. We operate on a first-come, first-served basis. It does not matter how much you spend, or who needs it more. It belongs to Ms. Eleanor.
The young man’s face went red. He looked like he was going to explode. He said, This is outrageous! I am never shopping here again! You just lost a valuable customer!
Mr. Henderson just nodded slowly. He said, I understand your frustration, sir. But the rules are the rules. Now, if you would like to look at our other scratchers, I would be happy to help you. Otherwise, I must ask you to leave.
The young man stood there for a moment, his mouth open. He looked at Ms. Eleanor, who was now smiling a very small, polite smile. Bartholomew let out a small, satisfied purr. The young man finally turned around, mumbled something under his breath, and stormed out of the store, the door chiming loudly behind him. The man on the phone was still talking about his tomatoes.
Ms. Eleanor finished her purchase. She thanked me and Mr. Henderson. As she was leaving, she gave Bartholomew a little pat. I felt a little bad for her, having to deal with such an angry person when all she wanted was a nice new scratcher for her cat. It must be very tiring to always have to fight just to get what is yours.
