After a few moments, she hollered to me from the back of the line. "Can I get some help getting a curling iron?"
I should explain - our curling irons, as well as a lot of other hair appliances, are locked up because white trash steal them... Okay - back to the story:
"Sure," I said. "Give me just a moment."
"Well, I was just hoping someone else could help me."
I had no idea why. But I'm assuming it's because she wanted to be helped ASAP. So whatever. "Alright. I'll page my supervisor," I said (even though I knew she was stuck behind a gazillion boxes in the back). I did so, and told her someone would be to aisle 6 shortly. I continued with the two customers in line. And while my second customer was looking for the right candy at the checkout, I looked up to see the curling iron customer standing in the center aisle near aisle 6. She had her arms folded and was glaring at me.
"I"ll be right back," I said to the quiet customer before me. I grabbed the key to the curling iron rack and sprinted to aisle 6. My supervisor got there right when I did. As I said before, she was stuck in the back room and got there as soon as she could.
"I'm sorry to make people wait," crazy lady said. "I just want this appliance."
I bit my tongue, because I do understand that people don't like to wait. Really. Who loves waiting around? But we're understaffed and I didn't want to go into that because quite frankly, that's not her fault and it's no excuse.
I unlocked the stand and took the curling iron. She held her hand out, expecting me to hand over the appliance.
I attempted to make this as easy as possible: "I'll have this at the register whenever you're ready."
She rolled her eyes. She wasn't yelling, but she definitely raised her voice. I know by the look on the customer's voice in the seasonal aisle as we passed by. "I work at a credit union! I am not going to steal a curling iron."
Okay - a couple things here, ma'am. What does that have to do with the price of wheat in China? Just because you are a teller at a credit union doesn't mean you won't steal. I'm sure you wouldn't. And really - I didn't mentally stamp the word "Thief" on her forehead when she entered the store. She really doesn't strike me as that kind of a person... and I told her so.
"Oh, I know. It's just corporate policy that I have to take it to register. I know how silly it sounds."
We approached the front (and she huffed and puffed the whole way there) and the lady who was searching for candy was standing at the register. She was very obviously scared of the crazy lady and offered her place in line.
"No," the crazy lady replied. "This is not a huge deal. It was never about waiting. I don't mind waiting for the curling iron. I just wanted some help."
By this point, I was shaking. Ask anybody who knows me even a little bit. I am terrified of confrontation. Absolutely terrified. So I was thrilled when my supervisor stepped in and took care of crazy lady's order on the next register.
As soon as she left, my supervisor turned to me (with no one else around) and said "Menopause." Must be. Let me tell you what - I would hate to be a member of the credit union she works at. Oh my stars...
How did the rest of the shift go, you ask?
Well - a crackhead brought in her four children and practically forced candy down their throats while they were hacking up a lung. There is so much more to this story that I don't want to get into... and she was there for only a few minutes. If my social worker friend, Kate, were still in town, I would have given her a call. She'd be there will bells on.... and a police squad.
Also - I was sent to pick up rock salt for the sidewalks, as we are preparing for a storm (or so we heard)... And I came back with water softener salt..... I don't want to talk about it.
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