Helpful People Are Clearly Beneath Her

A few years ago, I stopped at a big retail chain to grab a small item or two. Since I was coming from work, I had on my work uniform — a black V-neck top and khaki pants — nowhere close to the uniform colors of this particular store. And since I was only grabbing a small item or two, I didn’t bother with a cart or a basket.

I was making my way down the aisles toward my shopping destination when, in front of me, a little boy, around eight, was goofing around and knocked over an entire endcap display of items. The boy froze with a complete look of terror on his face.

Being the Midwesterner that I am, I walked up to him and said, “Ope! That’s an easy fix,” with a smile.

The little boy stuttered, “T-thank you,” still looking like he got caught robbing an entire bank vault.

As I was helping this little boy clean up the end cap items and place them back on the shelves, his mother came round the corner. She looked up and down at the scene in front of her, then looked up and down at me, sneering. She grabbed the boy by his arm, saying, “That’s what they get paid for,” as she dragged him away.

The boy looked at me and mumbled, “Sorry…”

I tried to utter an “I don’t work here!” but the mom and her son were quickly out of earshot. I quickly placed the remaining items on the shelf, got my items, and got out.

I’ll never know what made that woman think that I was working, or why she would look down on a worker of a store she was currently shopping at, but I did feel bad for the kid.