Don’t Make Me Up To Be Racist

(I have been getting my makeup done at a department store, by an employee of who is desperate to sell me pretty much half her stall. I have been sat for about half an hour.)

Me: “How much longer is this going to take?”

Employee: “Just a couple more minutes.”

(Fifteen minutes later:)

Employee: “And… done!”

(She hands me a mirror.)

Me: “Umm…”

Employee: “Good, huh? The foundation and blush are £50 each for the 250ml containers, and—”

Me: “You made me look like Bob the Drag Queen.”

Employee: “I don’t know who that is, but if you like it, sure.”

Me: “Well, she’s a drag queen, and she’s black.”

Employee: “Is she pretty?”

Me: “Yes, but you’ve literally given me blackface.”

Employee: “But she’s pretty, which means you’re pretty!”

Me: “I’d like you to remove it, please. I’m not going anywhere with blackface.”

Employee: “I will if you agree to buy the products I used on you today.”

Me: “Agree to buy something that makes me look racist? Not on your life.”

(I ran off and bought some makeup wipes. I must have used about half removing everything she put on me. As I left she tried to alert security to my “stealing,” but the guard just rolled his eyes. I’m assuming I’m not the first incident.)