I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 44

I am shopping at a home improvement store that is chronically understaffed. I need a few more of a certain item than what is stocked on the shelf, but there are more in the “backstock” on the upper shelves. One of the store’s rolling ladders is standing right there, and there’s not an orange apron in sight, so I just scamper right up and help myself.

As I am descending with my prize, SHE appears, haircut and all.

Customer: *In an angry, condescending tone* “Excuse me, can I get some help?”

Me: *Politely* “Oh, I don’t work here.”

Customer: “Yes, you do. I just saw you up on that ladder!”

Me: “Yeah, just getting what I need for myself. You’ll need to find a store employee to help you. Good luck with that.”

Customer: “I demand that you help me!”

I am feeling a little childish and have some old retail trauma to work out.

Me: “Don’t wanna!”

I stomp my widdle foot like a toddler, because two can play this game.

Customer: “What?! Are you refusing to help me?”

Me: “Yup! Because I don’t work here, so I don’t gotta! And anyway, you didn’t say please!”

Customer: “Well, you’re rude!”

Me: “Yeah, and mean, and ugly, too!”

Customer: “I— Wait, what?”

Me: “Also, I’m lazy and have questionable hygiene, unpopular political views, and weak moral fiber, and I don’t love Jesus!”

Customer: *Splutters and wibbles a bit* “Well, I never!”

Me: “Well, maybe you shoulda!”

And away I strutted, leaving her there with her chin on her chest.

Related:
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 43
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 42
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 41
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 40
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 39