Sunday, February 6, 2011

This One Time, Part 3

The electric entrance doors zipped open as I stormed back in the battle zone. O.k. I didn't storm in but the doors did zip open. I found an employee up front who graciously agreed to find the manager. I stood by with anticipation and a sure bit of hope. The 5 minutes of wait time felt like 20. Maybe it was because I stood waiting near that stalwart cashier who snatched my dream right from my fingertips. Maybe those minutes felt so extended because I was awaiting a fate that lay in the hands of some unknown manager. Would he be grouchy? Would he listen to my plight and see that I must be rewarded with an exception to the rule?

I felt a little nervous as the short, bald, frowning man walked down the isle toward me. It didn't look too promising. He approached me with a raised eyebrow and a doubtful "Yes?".

"I know your busy sir. Sorry to interrupt. There's a book I'd like to purchase but it has no price tag. The cashier said it had to be taken to the back to be priced, then returned to the shelves the next day...."

He rudely cut me off, "That's right." He then proceeded to restate that same store policy which I'd just relayed to him. Did he even hear what I'd just said? Couldn't he let me finish explaining myself?

"You can come back tomorrow," he snapped.


I've been working my tail end off lately. At work, I give 100% in every aspect. I teach. I work hard in behalf of the interest of my students and do whatever it takes that's in my power to aide them in discovering and developing their highest potential on individual levels. These works include anything from helping a student set up a hygiene/showering with soap schedule (AND successfully maintain the practice), to keeping another off pot, to raising levels of academic understanding for all students. Where there's a lot of students, there's a lot of work that gets done which leaves this girl tired and worn to the bone at the end of a school day.

This D.I. incident occurred at the close of one of those days. And from here on out is where the value of this three part post should start to kick in.


"You can come back tomorrow," he snapped.

I tried not to cry but I started to lose it. I stammered, "It's just that I've been looking for this book for awhile. I know it's just a children's book but..." By the time the end of that statement was out, I was clearly crying. He was taken aback, surprised.

He moved to the cash register where I'd made my purchase minutes ago. "Well let's see" he said, "Where is it?". Um, what kind of question is that? How was I supposed to know?

I desperately tried to choke back the scarry sob mode I felt coming on. "I don't know" was my timid, restrained reply.

He saw the cart with the go-back items and picked up two books. At that moment, my precious Snow White literature caught my eye. It seemed to beam rays of light and then instantaneously it was dimmed by the darkness of the D.I. pricing policy.

Rudely interrogating, in disbelief that a girl would be so worked up about it, he insisted "Well, which one is it?"

From this point on, simply stated, I started blubber-bawling. Let's be clear now. By blubber bawl, I mean I was snorting and choking words out in the least graceful way imaginable. This process also includes sucking in short breaths which makes everything come out all choppy.

"Snow White!"

Blubber. Blubber. Snort. Blubber. I knew before it burst from my mouth that it would sound so pathetic. Blubbering over Snow White? Knowing that it sounded so pathetic, but still knowing that it was so important made me Blubber all the harder.

The man's eyes widened. I had taken this matter to a whole new level. I was causing a scene! Then, everything changed. Somehow the dynamics flip flopped. The control of this situation was now in my power. Wide-eyed, he held the book closer to me. He wasn't so rude now. Somewhere inside him there was a reservoir of sweetness! That or he was just flabbergasted.

"Two dollars?" was all he queried, cautiously.

The only thing I could do was nod my head and grab the book. Despite his relent of policy, my tears didn't follow suit. I walked up to the cashier (a different one than the first) and handed her the book. I choked out "two dollars" and she nodded her head. She was all concerned. She leaned forward and whispered "Are you okay? Can I do anything for you?". Obviously I was in pretty bad shape. The look the lady gave me seemed as though she were concerned that as soon as I left the store I'd find a cliff and drive right off. That sounds terrible but man, you should have seen her face. I apologized twice for my radical display then quickly headed out the door.

By the time I got to the car, everything inside me cleared up. By the time I had the car started, I felt fine and was wondering what was for dinner, "Should I make a stop for a burger on the way home? Was I going to go to the basketball game later this evening? Oh, what a day in the life of this girl. I've definitely got to tell my mom about this one time.".


  1. Postscript: Erica walked in the door 20 minutes later all smiles, wanting to tell me her tale. My response? I just laughed . . . and laughed . . . and laughed. Pretty soon it turned into one of those gut wrenching belly laughs that left me grabbing my side and nearly falling off my chair. Let it be known that Erica was laughing by this time also. I only wish I could have been in the store to see the tears. I missed out on that one. Come on now Erica! Producing tears on demand like that? Where did you learn THAT trick?

  2. Hahaha I'm glad you got the book! I hope you read it every night after the hassle it took to get it and everything. Oh DI... :)

  3. Yayyyy! A happy ending to the story! I hate it when situations like this happen on days like that. Rough. But I am happy it all worked out.