I suppose this could be pitworthy, but I’m too tired to get my mad on about this. Mostly, I’m just amused. Still, it can be moved should moving be necessary.
The store where I have worked for four years is going out of business. Actually, today was the last day and I am now home, so I suppose we have gone out of business. Everything is priced to sell, because we aren’t going to need it anyway, we have to get rid of it somehow, and we’re also extremely broke, so any few coins we can put in the bank are a blessing.
Two ladies come in and wander around and sort of sniff at everything we’ve got, as they are plainly too good for our store. Finally, one of them pulls a shirt off the five dollar rack, and says “I’ll give you two for it.”
To my way of thinking, five dollars was a decent price, and as it’s half off the whole store, I would have been happy to give it to her for two fifty. Still, two dollars is far better than nothing, only fifty cents less than I would have charged, and if it isn’t gone soon, we won’t get a dime for it. I glance over at my well-beloved boss to make sure she’s cool with it. She sighs. “Heck, it was on the three dollar rack anyway.” Clearly the stress has made her slightly dyslexic, but there’s no time for nitpicking now. So I sell the friggin shirt. She has proved her haggling skills, we’ve got a little more money, and everyone is happy.
As it happens, my well-beloved boss and I need to go out to her car for something, so we wind up following the two ladies out of the store. And the one who bought the shirt is bragging to her friend about how it was actually on the five-dollar rack, and we thought it was on the three dollar rack, and aren’t we dumb, boy she sure pulled a fast one on us, blah blah blah. This is cracking me up. A) It’s a stupid thing to brag about, and B) WE FOLLOWED YOU OUT OF THE STORE, YA TWIT! And heck, it’s my last day of work anyway; no need to be polite now. So, laughing, I say “Uh, you did realize we were right behind you, didn’t you?”
She turns. She looks at me. She looks at me like Mom just told us no more cookies before dinner, and now I’m catching her with her hand in the cookie jar. And then, she delivers the most withering put-down she could possibly think up, the most brilliant, amazingly mature thing she could say at that particular moment: “Well… well… I don’t care.”
I have to say, I’m amazed at her chutzpah, her bargaining skills, her steely resolve. She screwed me out of three whole dollars AND then she showed me up in public! Bravo, ma’am. Bravo. You sure showed me.