It was 2:30 pm on Saturday. My daughter returned home from a morning of errands, took one look at my attire and asked, “Didn’t you go?”
“Oh my gosh! I completely forgot!”
I raced upstairs to change out of my sloppy sweats and into some respectable jeans.
We had half an hour to get to the market before “Spa Day” ended.
We arrived way too late to get a goody bag – the 50 they were giving away would have all been snatched up within the first minute or two of the event – but there was still time to enter a drawing for a gift basket. And we could still use my coupon for 25% off all apothecary items. We each had a list of things we were getting low on, just waiting for this coupon day to purchase them.
So we entered the drawing. And yesterday my daughter texted me that she won. Yay!
She swung by the market after work to claim her prize. We both had visions of a basket full of beautifully arranged lotions and potions. But that must have been the GRAND prize, because what she received was a tote bag with a huge jug of protein powder, a plastic mixer and some unidentifiable packets thrown in it. Definitely not up to the usual aesthetic standards of the market. We wondered if one of the spa day vendors left a few items behind. “Hey, let’s draw another name….”
But that’s just the preamble.
As my daughter stood in line at the customer relations counter she witnessed classic what-we-don’t-like-about-this-town behavior.
The woman in front of my daughter interrupted the cashier, who was waiting on the customer WHOSE TURN IT WAS, to ask for her lollipops. “There should be six of them,” she said. The cashier handed them to her and then turned her attention back to the customer she had been helping.
Lollipop woman muttered, “There are only five,” counted them (my daughter counted along with her – there was definitely six) and then shoved one of them into her purse. When it was lollipop lady’s turn, she handed the bunch to the cashier to ring them up. The cashier asked, “Didn’t you say you ordered six of them?” The woman replied, “I put one back.”
Back where?, my daughter thought, the Sees Candy counter is clear on the other side of the store. Back in your purse, that’s where.
She thought about saying something, but she is too afraid to confront the women like her who live in our town. When she got to her car she thought of a couple of things she could have said. Things like, “Would you like me to pay for that lollipop in your purse for you?” Or, “Is a $2 lollipop really worth your integrity.”
But we always seem to think of those things just a tiny bit too late.
And no, John Quinones did not appear to tell her she failed.