The morning had been a real mess. I’d spilled coffee all down my favorite sweater right before leaving, then got stuck behind a tractor on a country road for ten miles, which meant I was late for work. All I wanted to do was finish my shift at the pet supply store and go home to my quiet apartment and categorize the new batch of autumn leaves I’d collected last weekend. Pressing them always made me feel calm, helped me sort out my thoughts. It was a simple hobby, but it was mine.
The store was busy, way busier than it usually was on a Tuesday afternoon. There was a long line at the single open register, stretching all the way back to the display of fancy cat trees. I was just trying to get through my shift, stocking the bags of premium dog food, which always felt heavier than they looked. I wasn’t really paying attention to the line, just trying to focus on my task and not bump into anyone. People were always in a hurry, it seemed.
I heard a huff, then a really loud cough, like someone was trying to clear their whole chest. I glanced over, thinking maybe someone needed help. That’s when I saw her. She was a young lady, probably around nineteen or twenty, standing at the very front of the line. She hadn’t been there a second ago. I remembered seeing an older man with a small dog carrier standing patiently, and now she was right in front of him. She had a small, fancy cat carrier with a velvet pillow in it clutched in one hand. Inside, a fluffy Persian cat with big, bored eyes just blinked slowly, as if it had seen it all before.
Her hair was long and styled in big, perfect waves, even though she was just at the grocery store. She had on a lot of makeup, and a very tight outfit that showed off her figure, which was a bit curvier than she probably thought it was. She kept smoothing down her shirt with one hand, then adjusting the strap of her small purse. She had a birthmark right on her collarbone, shaped just like a tiny, perfect four-leaf clover. It was pretty unique, something you don’t see every day.
The older man she’d cut in front of looked confused. He just stood there, holding his dog carrier, his mouth slightly open. He seemed too polite to say anything. The young woman, though, she wasn’t polite at all. She put her carrier on the counter and started tapping her fingers impatiently.
The cashier, a new kid named Sam who looked like he was still learning where everything was, stared at her with wide eyes. Sam looked like he was about to say something, but before he could, the young woman leaned over the counter, practically sticking her face in his. She spoke in a loud, clear voice, like she was talking to someone far away. She said she was in a real hurry and needed to be served right now. Her cat, Empress Fluffybottom III, had a very specific dietary need and couldn’t wait another minute for its special grain-free, wild-caught salmon pate. She even had a small, insulated bag with her to make sure the food stayed at the exact right temperature. It seemed a lot for a cat, but then again, I guess some cats have fancy needs.
The old man behind her finally found his voice. He said, in a quiet, shaky tone, that he had been waiting for a while. He’d even picked up his dog’s treats before she arrived. The young woman barely glanced at him. She just waved her hand dismissively, like she was shooing away a fly. She said that his dog treats weren’t as important as her cat’s special food, and anyway, she was clearly more important. She made a motion with her hand, like she was smoothing down her hair, but really, she was looking at herself in the glass reflection of the display case behind the cashier. The cat inside its carrier just stretched a paw out, then pulled it back in, looking like it wished it was anywhere else.
At this point, I was trying to stay out of it. My heart was thumping a little faster. I just wanted to finish my work and disappear. Conflict made me really uncomfortable. But then she started tapping her fingers on the counter even harder, and she got even louder. She started saying that she wasn’t going to stand around all day, that people should recognize who was important and make way. She said she was doing everyone a favor by speeding things up. She even pointed a finger at Sam, saying he was too slow.
Sam, looking completely flustered, finally mumbled that there was a line and she needed to go to the back. The young woman let out a really loud, fake laugh. She looked around, like she expected everyone to laugh with her. Nobody did. A few people looked down at their phones, or pretended to be very interested in the bags of bird seed. I just kept my head down, pretending to organize the same pile of leashes I’d already sorted twice. But I could feel my face getting hot.
Suddenly, her phone rang. It wasn’t a normal ringtone, though. It was a really loud, kind of tinny pop song that sounded like it was from a cartoon show. She grabbed it out of her purse, not even looking at the screen, and put it right up to her ear. She started talking even louder than before, saying something about how rude people were and she just couldn’t believe the wait. She was complaining to whoever was on the other end, making sure everyone in the store could hear her. The Persian cat in the carrier gave a tiny, almost silent meow, as if in protest of the noise.
This whole thing was just too much. My bad day had been building up, little things one after another, and now this. My shift was nearly over, and I still had to pack up all my supplies to press my leaves later. I was so tired. I walked over to the register, even though I really didn’t want to. I tried to sound firm, but my voice still felt shaky. I told her that she needed to go to the back of the line, just like everyone else. I said it wasn’t fair to others who had been waiting. She turned her head slowly, narrowing her eyes at me. She said she didn’t have to listen to a lowly store worker, and she knew the manager. She just knew they would let her do what she wanted.
Sam, bless his heart, found a bit of courage then. He said he was going to call the manager. He picked up the store phone, and just as he started to dial, the young woman grabbed her cat carrier and stomped her foot. She started yelling that this was ridiculous, that she was leaving, and that she would tell everyone how awful this store was. She tried to storm out, but she wasn’t looking where she was going. Her foot caught on the edge of a display of chew toys, and she stumbled, almost dropping the cat carrier. The cat inside let out a distinct, annoyed hiss this time.
She caught herself, barely, but her insulated bag of special cat food slipped from her grasp. It tumbled to the floor, and the fancy little bag burst open. A small, cold container of expensive salmon pate rolled out, hitting the floor with a soft splat. She stared at it for a second, then back at us, her face turning red. She looked like she was about to cry, or maybe scream even louder.
Just then, the manager, Brenda, came walking up. She always seemed to appear out of nowhere, like she had a sixth sense for trouble. Brenda took one look at the mess on the floor, the angry young woman, and the terrified Sam. She asked what was going on, her voice calm but firm. The young woman started to tell her side of the story, but Brenda just held up a hand. She had seen enough. She told the young woman that she couldn’t cut in line, and that yelling at staff and causing a disturbance was not okay. She said that if she wanted to buy anything, she would need to get in line like everyone else, and be polite about it. She also said that, because of the commotion she had caused, she’d have to buy a new container of the cat food she’d dropped, as it was no longer sellable.
The young woman stared at Brenda, then at the spilled cat food, then back at Brenda. She looked totally shocked, like she hadn’t expected any of this to happen. The Persian cat in the carrier watched the spilled food with interest, then looked up at its owner, then back at the food. It gave a small, almost questioning meow. The young woman mumbled something, picked up the carrier and the now-empty insulated bag, and just walked out of the store without buying anything. She didn’t even look at the spilled food again.
After she was gone, Brenda looked at Sam and me and just sighed. She apologized for the trouble and told Sam he did a good job. I just stood there, a little shaky, but mostly just relieved. The coffee stain on my sweater didn’t seem so bad anymore. I really just wanted to go home and press my leaves.
