I was at the grocery store the other day, just doing my usual shopping, picking up some milk and bread and maybe a little treat for myself. You know how it is, just a normal Tuesday. I like to get out and about, see people, you know. I’m not one for sitting around the house all day. I like to be where the action is, even if the action is just the checkout line at the supermarket. It’s a good place to people watch.
Anyway, I was in the produce section, admiring some really nice looking peaches, when I heard this loud voice. It was this woman, dressed in a really fancy outfit, like she was going somewhere important, but she was acting real rude. She had this husband with her, who was just sort of standing there, looking a bit embarrassed.
She was yelling at one of the store employees, a young guy who looked like he was maybe still in high school. He was trying to explain something to her, but she wasn’t listening. She just kept getting louder and louder, making a big scene. She was going on about how she had bought these fancy organic apples last week, and they were supposed to be the best, but one of them had a tiny little bruise on it. A bruise! I’ve seen apples with way worse, and people don’t even notice.
But this woman, she was acting like it was the end of the world. She was saying that she deserved a refund for all the apples, not just the one with the bruise. And she wanted a whole new bag of the most expensive ones, for free, of course. The poor employee was trying to tell her that the store policy was that they could only give a refund for the damaged item, and only if she brought it back. But she just kept huffing and puffing and tapping her foot.
Her husband finally said something, real quiet like, but she just shushed him. He looked like he wanted to disappear. I’ve got a husband like that sometimes, he’s a good guy, but he’s not much for confrontation. He’d rather just let me handle things. Sometimes I think he’s a little too quiet, but hey, he’s got his good points. He makes a mean pot roast.
The woman, she kept pointing at the apple and then at the employee, her voice all shaky with anger. She was saying things like she was a loyal customer and this was how they treated her. I’ve heard that line before. It’s like they think because they shop somewhere, they own the place. She was definitely one of those types. She had this little yappy dog in her purse, too, and it was starting to bark along with her. It was a tiny little thing, all fluffy. I have a soft spot for animals, even yappy ones, but this was a bit much.
I could feel my own temper starting to simmer. I’m not usually one to get involved, but this was just ridiculous. She was making everyone in the aisle uncomfortable. People were trying to get by with their carts, but they were slowing down to watch the show. A few people were even pulling out their phones, probably to record it. I’ve seen that happen before, too. It’s like everyone’s a director these days.
The employee, bless his heart, he was still being polite. He offered to get a manager, which I thought was a good idea. But the woman, she wasn’t having it. She said the manager wouldn’t do anything, and she wanted to talk to someone who could actually help her. She even said she knew the owner of the store, which I highly doubt. She seemed like the type who would say anything to get her way.
This is where it gets interesting, because I have this weird thing. I’m really good at remembering obscure facts. Like, I know all the capitals of countries I’ve never even heard of, and I can tell you the exact year a specific type of bird went extinct. It’s not really useful most of the time, but it’s just how my brain works. So, as she’s going on about the apples, I’m suddenly remembering something I read about… well, about apple bruises.
I decided to step in. I walked over, trying to look casual. “Excuse me,” I said, putting on my friendliest voice. “I couldn’t help but overhear. About the apples.” She turned her attention to me, her eyes narrowed. Her husband looked even more mortified.
“Yes?” she snapped.
“I was just thinking,” I continued, keeping my voice light. “You know, about those organic apples. I remember reading somewhere that the very best way to tell if an organic apple is still good, even if it has a little mark, is to check the stem. If the stem is still firm and green, the apple is usually perfectly fine to eat. Sometimes those little marks are just from the tree or from being handled gently. The organic ones, they don’t use all those chemicals to keep them looking perfect, you know.”
I watched her face. Her eyes flickered from me to the apple in her hand. She was definitely thinking. The yappy dog in her purse had quieted down a bit. Her husband even looked a little relieved.
“Are you sure?” she asked, a hint of uncertainty in her voice.
“Oh, absolutely,” I said, smiling. “It’s a pretty neat trick. Saves you from throwing away perfectly good fruit. Imagine all the extra apples you could enjoy just by checking the stem. And it’s better for the environment too, not wasting food.” I was laying it on a bit thick, but I could see it was working. She liked the idea of being knowledgeable about something, and the “organic” and “environment” part seemed to appeal to her.
She looked at the apple again, then at the stem. She poked it. It was pretty firm. She mumbled something to her husband, who just nodded. Then, she turned back to the employee.
“Well,” she said, her voice a lot softer now. “I suppose… I suppose you’re right. It is just a small bruise. And the stem does look okay.” She even managed a weak smile. “I’ll just take this one. Thank you for your time.”
The employee looked stunned, but he managed to nod and say, “You’re welcome.”
She then turned to me, and gave me a little nod. “Thank you,” she said, almost sweetly. “That was very helpful information.” Her husband mumbled a quick goodbye and practically pulled her away towards the checkout. I saw them leave the store. I never did find out if she bought the other apples or just left with the bruised one.
I went back to looking at the peaches, feeling pretty good about myself. It’s amazing what a little bit of well-placed, totally random information can do. Sometimes, you just have to give people a way to save face, you know? Make them think it was their idea all along. It was a pretty satisfying little victory. I can’t wait to see what happens next time I’m out.
