(I am sixteen, in the mall after school, still in my high school uniform, which is a black sweater with a school crest and black skirt. I pick up a few things I need and text my dad to tell him where I am. I decide to look at some lipsticks while I wait for a reply when I catch this woman staring at me. She’s staring so hard I keep glancing up from my phone to make sure she’s not going to do something suddenly. Eventually I decide to say something.)
Me: “Can I help you?”
Woman: “I’m looking for some lipstick. What are you doing?”
Me: “Um, texting my dad…”
Woman: “They let you have a phone?”
Me: *not understanding* “Uh, yeah, I mean I have to buy my own credit but I only really use it so they can call me—”
Woman: “Whatever. Put it away and help me.”
Me: “Pardon?”
Woman: “I want a new lipstick! I’m in a rush. Do you mind?”
(I gesture to the range of lipsticks on the counter between us. At the same time I get a text back from my dad and look back down at my phone. When I do so, the woman slams her purse on the counter, sending a bunch of eyeshadows and blushes onto the floor, where they shatter.)
Woman: “I can’t believe this! I shop here all the time and I’ve never been treated so badly in ten years!”
(Just then, my dad shows up.)
Dad: “Ready?”
Me: “Uh, yeah.”
(My dad looks at the mess at the floor and then at the woman who is now shooting evil looks at him, too. We join the checkout line and the woman follows us, still shouting about the appalling service.)
Dad: *to employee* “Can you call a manager?”
(The employee calls the manager, who arrives quickly and looks between us and the furious but now silent woman who has followed us all the way to the front door.)
Dad: “That lady has been harassing my daughter and quite a bit of your display.”
Woman: “She should be fired! She wouldn’t help me find what I wanted!”
Manager: *looks at my high school uniform and then at the woman, and radios mall security*
(I ended up with a free lipstick for my trauma!)