I was just trying to pick up a few things for dinner. It was a normal Tuesday, or at least it was supposed to be. I walked into the giant store, the air conditioning hitting me like a wave. I had my list, and I was ready to get in and out. First stop, the produce. I grabbed some tomatoes and a head of lettuce. Then I headed towards the pasta aisle. That’s when it happened. A person, who I thought was an employee, rushed up to me.
“Excuse me,” they said, their voice a little strained. “Do you know where I can find the, uh, the special kind of… you know… for the thing?”
I paused, looking at them blankly. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I understand what you’re looking for.” I figured they were a new hire, maybe a bit overwhelmed. I was trying to be polite.
“You know,” they insisted, waving their hands vaguely. “The… the part. For the… contraption. It’s supposed to be near the… the widgets.”
My eyebrows went up. This was getting strange. “I’m sorry, I really don’t work here,” I said, feeling a tiny bit of irritation starting to brew. “I’m just a customer myself.”
The person’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t play games with me,” they said, their tone hardening. “I saw you come out of the back room just now. Now, help me find it. I don’t have all day.”
I took a deep breath. My muscles began to tense. “No, seriously,” I tried again, holding up my small basket. “I’m just shopping. Maybe you should ask someone in a uniform?”
“A uniform?” they scoffed. “That’s ridiculous. You’re clearly an employee. Stop wasting my time. I need that component by five o’clock or I’m in deep trouble.” They leaned in, their voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s a very specific part. You’ll know it when you see it.”
I felt a familiar frustration begin to bubble up. This was exactly the kind of nonsense I dreaded when I had to go to places like this. “Look,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. “I understand you’re in a hurry, but I genuinely cannot help you. I’ve never seen the part you’re talking about, and I don’t know anything about contraptions or widgets.”
The person crossed their arms. “So you’re just going to stand there and refuse to help a customer? Is that how you treat people in this store?”
“I’m not refusing to help you,” I said, feeling a headache starting to throb behind my eyes. “I physically cannot help you because I am not an employee and I don’t know what you need.” I decided the best course of action was to find an actual employee to handle this. I spotted a young man stocking shelves a few aisles over, wearing a clearly identifiable store apron. “Let me get someone who can actually assist you,” I said, already starting to walk away.
“Oh no you don’t!” the person shouted, their voice now echoing through the aisle. They grabbed my arm. “You’re not getting out of this that easily. You’re going to help me, or I’m going to make sure you regret it.”
I pulled my arm away, startled and a little angry. “Get off me!” I exclaimed. “I’m going to get a manager.”
“A manager?” they sneered. “You think you can go running to a manager? You’re the one being difficult! You’re the one who needs to be disciplined!” They started following me, their pace quickening. I hurried towards the young man stocking shelves, trying to flag him down.
“Sir,” I called out, my voice a little louder than I intended. “Could you please help this… this person? They seem to be looking for a specific item.”
The person beside me let out a strangled gasp. “How dare you! You insolent… you!” They turned to face me, their face contorted with rage. “You think you can just pass me off to someone else? I want you to help me. If you don’t, I’m going to call corporate and have you fired! You liar! You incompetent fool!”
I was stunned. The sheer entitlement was astounding. “I told you, I don’t work here!” I repeated, my voice rising. I tried to push past them to get to the actual employee. “Leave me alone!”
Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain. A blow landed on the side of my head, sending a jolt through my entire body. The world seemed to tilt, and then everything went black.
