Somewhere in Tigard lies a tiny, shriveled piece of me.
Today at work, we were having a “SUPER FRIDAY!” sale. This pretty much meant that we were incredibly busy all day long with really obnoxious people who just could not understand why 40% off a perfectly new stroller in a box was an ok price. I’m sorry that I, personally, decided that 20% off clearance items was acceptable when “most” stores would do at least 25%. I’m sorry that I, personally, decided not to mail out coupons for you to use, when “most” stores would have sent at least ten.
I got my revenge, I suppose. I was walking by the stroller aisle, and this nasty, rude couple asked me how to fold down a stroller. I had dealt with them since the moment they walked in the door, so I was less than thrilled when they waved me down. I was only incredibly busy with three other people, but because they asked so nicely, I showed them how. And by nicely, I mean they asked for my manager so I had to do whatever they wanted in fear that they would lie to my bosses about things I did. And by fear that they would lie to my bosses, I mean they already did that and my boss warned me to be nicer.
I closed the stroller, and felt sort of a sharp pain on my finger but thought nothing of it. I’m not sure why, now that I think back on it, but I think I thought the pain was normal. I was having trouble closing the stroller. I apologized for how long it was taking me. I gave one last push, and closed it as hard as I could. When I did this, the pain in my finger got worse. A lot worse. But that was ok! I had finally closed the stroller! As I stood up and raised my hand to say to the couple “voila!”, the stroller came with it. The stroller continued to raise off the floor until it finally pinched off a chunk of my finger. The stroller fell to the ground, and with it, a chunk of my finger.
I smiled, told them if they had any other questions they could always ask me, and turned around and walked away. My eyes were filling with tears, and my hand was throbbing so much it felt like my heart had moved to my fingertip, but I couldn’t help but laugh all the way to the First Aid kit. A small part of me hopes that as they opened the stroller, they noticed a small, flesh colored chunk of something fall to their feet. I never told them about my finger, though. I hope they didn’t notice. I bet I could get written up.
3 years ago • Notes