Not Being Charitable With The Timekeeping

(I am out shopping with my mum and decide to pop into a little charity shop for a local children’s hospital to try on some summer dresses for an upcoming wedding I’m attending. We want to be as quick as possible as Mum has a lot to do this Saturday, so I scour the racks in record time picking out anything I like the look of. Standing by the dressing room, there’s another customer inside — only one cubicle as it’s a small charity shop. I quickly sort through my options and reduce it to about five dresses; my mum takes the others and puts them back on the rack. I continue to wait for the room; it’s been quite a while at this point, but then the other lady comes out and I head in as quickly as possible. As I’m trying on the first dress, I can hear some people just the other side of the curtain, and thinking there must be a queue I resolve to go as quickly as possible. I quickly establish that the first dress is too short, throw it back on a hanger, and start squeezing into one that may be a little tight when I hear voices outside. It’s not entirely clear but goes something like this.)

Older Lady: “Bit of queue.”

Mum: *joking* “My daughter needs to hurry up is all!”

Older Lady: “Yes. She does.”

Other Customer: “There’s no rush!”

(I poke my head out to show Mum the dress that I like, and she says that it should be suitable for the wedding, so I head back inside, undo the zip, and try and pull it over my head. It won’t budge. I try and get it down over my hips. Nope. I’m in the middle of trying to wiggle it back over my head when I hear the voices outside again.)

Older Lady: “Really, she needs to hurry up!”

Other Customer: “No, really, it’s fine!”

Mum: “Come on, [My Name], fast as you can.”

(I’m feeling incredibly flustered as I can’t get this dress off, but eventually, it comes over my head, thankfully without tearing. I throw it back on the hanger and jump into the next one, decide in two seconds that I hate it, give the next one a little more thought but decide it’s not right, and then try and put the last one on, also quickly deciding that I hate it. I throw them all on hangers, put my clothes back on, and dash out. I can hear the older lady still making comments about how much time I’m spending in there. The ever-so-long queue for the room? Two people.)

Me: “Sorry, I was being as quick as I could! Let me just put these back.”

(It turns out that the older lady works there!)

Older Lady: “Those go on that rail there!”

(I am already putting them away.)

Other Customer: *next in line* “Don’t worry; it wasn’t me getting annoyed.”

(I was in there for maybe five minutes total, and I’m not exaggerating. To the older lady: I will probably be back because your shop is for a good cause, but if you want people to buy clothes you have to let them try them on!)