At ten minutes to close, she made her entrance. Her sparkling dress was so tight I thought it had been painted on for a moment. Every tiny step she took in her six inch stilettos showed her undulating form. Slowly, as though under a spotlight, she made her way to the jewelry department in the back.
Closing announcements were made, and other shoppers hurried through the lines, but our statuesque shopper had not made her appearance. We closed. Still no sign of her. Finally a coworker appeared with an arm full of jewelry items and the woman in tow. Inch by inch she tottered her way up to the front of the store. "I'm coming!" She said playfully, as though we are just all on pins and needles waiting for her again.
Ten minutes after closing, we finally began to ring up her purchases. "Wait, wait!" She said, suddenly pointing to the monitor. "That rang up $4.99, it is supposed to be half off."
"Actually Ma'am this brand is not on sale this week."
"It isn't? I thought everything in that aisle was!"
"I'm sorry, but the signs actually list the brands that are included."
"Well—in that case, I think I will just need to go back there and rethink this. I might have to go a whole different direction with this."
"I'm sorry Ma'am, but we are closed now. The registers are closing. You are welcome to come back tomorrow if you want to shop some more. We open at—"
"Excuse me? How RUDE! I know ya'll are closing but you don't have to act like that. I am a CUSTOMER. I want your corporate number. I am SO going to report you."
Twenty minutes after closing, she inch-wormed her Saran-wrapped self out of the doors. I was only surprised that she didn't take the time to inform my manager that we were not being beaten often enough. It would probably have further infuriated her that was I was later promoted to Customer Service Manager.