Doesn’t Have Cold Feet About Sharing

(I work in a rather high-end furniture and house-ware store. I’m helping a well-dressed, well-spoken lady in her fifties choose some items from the basement floor.)

Customer: “I’m sorry I have to walk so slowly. You know, I had some major foot surgery done just last month and have not entirely recovered yet.”

Me: “Not a problem at all. I must say you’re doing wonderfully well. In fact, I would have never guessed if you didn’t tell me.”

Customer: “Yes, it’s getting better now, but I was in such pain for the first few days; I’m telling you.”

Me: “Well, I sure hope you’ll be alright soon. There, I’ll carry that for you, at least.”

(We make our way back upstairs, where the tills are located. I’m carrying her items, and we’re making small talk throughout. I ring her up and hand her the carrier bag and receipt.)

Customer: “Yes, I was telling you about my feet. I have some pictures; let me show you…”

(Before I can think of a reply, she leans over the counter and proceeds to show me several photos of her feet covered in angry septic sores.)

Me: “Well… that sure looks bad. I’m glad it’s all sorted now.”

Customer: “Terrible, isn’t it? So much pus, you have no idea of the smell! Absolutely rotten! Oh, well, thank you and have a nice day!”

(She leaves. My manager walks by.)

Manager: “Are you alright? What was that about?”

Me: “Never mind. Any chance I could get a late lunch-break today?”