Put to the Test

I was trying on some pants at a store yesterday, in a stall where there was a big curtain instead of a door. I was back in my own clothes and just looking in the mirror, dabbing on some lipgloss when I heard a big "shaaat" behind me. An obviously not-so-bright sales girl had yanked my curtain wide open. She stood there traumatized. I stared at her wide-eyed (as much as my China-doll eyelids would allow), half waiting for her to close the curtain, half expecting an apology. She did neither.

This is the kind of idiocy I complain about all the time.

After the initial three-second pause, the girl managed to put into words the obvious, that: 1) she thought nobody was in the stall; and 2) she was shocked upon seeing me inside the stall. It wasn't until I said "You scared ME" that she finally realized I probably wanted what little privacy I had left to finish glossing my upper lip, and closed the curtain.

I truly think she was really lucky that I was fully dressed the moment her head had lost blood circulation. If I had been so much as tying my shoelaces when she barged in, I know my inner angry bitch would've been released, and my inner angry bitch would've made a scene by chewing someone's head off. Little does this sales girl know that I have connections with the HR department in their chain's head office. Any complaint I was to file could've easily jumped the queue.

I stood in front of the mirror for another half a minute, contemplating whether I should still make the purchase. Under normal circumstances I would've stormed out of the store and not return to it for the next two months. But under normal circumstances any pants I have eyes for at a store like this wouldn't have fitted me so well. So I decided I'd just pay for the pants and get the hell out.

With that extra half minute, the not-so-bright sales girl had clearly contemplated over how to face me when I come out of the stall. Still, the idea of apologizing hadn't rung any bell in that size-zero head of hers, which I began to think I should've chewed off. Instead, she readily described to me how the mishap occurred. She explained that the usual practice of their staff is to open the curtain a tiny crack and peep inside to see if it's occupied, and that, apparently, it was my bad to have been standing at her blind spot in that 1m x 1m floor space. Before I could shoo her off with my signature whatever eyeroll, another sales girl came up and offered to help me with my purchase, giving her an I'll-handle-it wink.

The apology I was no longer expecting finally came, when I was standing in front of the storage room waiting for a new pair of pants. Finally, genuine embarrassment made its way on the face of the not-so-bright sales girl, who said sorry over and over again, almost bowing to me. My anger had already been taken over by impatience by then, but I couldn't bring myself to say "it's alright" to her, as it certain wasn't alright. So I just gave her a nod and turned away. That's just how stingy I am.