It Sounds Like The Cat Escaped

I am on my way back to my register from my break when I see a woman coming straight toward me pushing a walker. She makes eye contact with me, parks her walker in the middle of the walkway, and steps to one side to look at something. I now have a small little opening to try and squeeze through to get past her, making social distancing difficult.

Me: “Excuse me, please.”

I carefully scoot past her.

Customer: “Sorry, but not really.”

I don’t say anything and return to my register. An hour later, the woman comes around the corner, her mask down beneath her chin. She looks at some items and picks up a small packet, covers her mouth with it, and coughs loudly on it. She then comes to my register and tries to hand it to me.

Me: “Sorry, I can’t touch that.”

Customer: “Why?”

Me: “Because your mask is off and you coughed all over it.”

Customer: “Tch, it’s a smoker’s cough!”

Me: “It doesn’t matter. Your mask is off and I can’t touch that after you’ve coughed all over it.”

She sighs, pulls her mask back up, and puts the item in her purse. She grabs another one and has me scan it instead. As she’s paying, she pulls her mask off again.

Customer: “I’ve been smoking a lot more because I’m stressed about my cat. I let a bunch of strangers stay in my house, and I knew I shouldn’t, and they left the door open and my cat ran away.”

Me: “I’m sorry to hear that. Please pull your mask back up. Cats are smart; it might come back.”

Customer: “No. My daughter is a white witch and she told me the cat is already dead.”

Me: “Um… I’m… sorry.”

I just stood there blinking as she finally left.