I’m working at a candy store that gives out free samples. The location of this store means that there are gaggles of teenagers and kids lurking about, and a lot of them get the free sample, maybe buy one single item, hang out for a couple of minutes to chat with their friends, and then leave.
One particularly busy Friday night (I think there was a movie release), the store is SWAMPED. I mean, you can barely move, even behind the counter, because of all the people in the store.
There is finally a break. I’m breathing normally for a moment when I glance down at the counter in front of me to see if it needs to be wiped down. I just served a group of preteen boys, and one of them has left his mobile phone on the counter.
Mind you, it is a black phone, about five inches long, on an almost pristine white counter. How do you forget a GIANT BLACK PHONE on a WIDE WHITE COUNTER? I tell my manager, and put it on the counter behind me. I wipe down the counter, and wait for the next wave of customers.
The boys don’t come back. It’s been about half an hour, and I’m concerned. We get another break in customers, and I glance at the phone. It’s ringing, and the caller ID says “Mom.” I tell my manager I’m going to answer it, and I walk out of the store for a second to do so.
I answer it, and I am met with the voice of a woman who is fed up with her child.
Woman: “WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?! I’VE BEEN TRYING TO CALL YOU FOR AN HOUR! YOU NEED TO PICK UP YOUR PHONE—”
Me: “Ma’am, ma’am! I’m so sorry, my name is [My Name]. I work at [Store]. Your son left his phone in our store.”
There is a moment where I swear I can hear the gears in her head turning.
Woman: “Well! He’s going to lose his privileges over this one!”
Me: “Ma’am, he was with a group of other boys. Do you know any of them? Do you know their phone numbers?”
Woman: “He’s with his friends. No, I don’t know who they are, nor do I know their phone numbers. Wait! My daughter is there with her friends, too. I’ll let her know, and she’ll pick up the phone. Would that work?”
Me: “That’s just fine, ma’am. We’ll have the phone here waiting for her. What does she look like?”
Woman: “She has red hair; she looks just like him.”
Me: “…that’s fine. I’ll have the phone here.”
Woman: “Oh, thank you, thank you!”
We hang up, and I put the phone back on the counter. I’m wondering because of her tone if this isn’t the first time this has happened. I shrug and go back to the waves of teenagers.
About twenty minutes later, a teenage girl with reddish hair walks in with her friends. She’s smirking, and her friends are giggling.
Girl: “Hi! I’m here to pick up my brother’s phone?”
Me: “Oh, yes, you’re the sister. Here you go. Does this happen often?”
Girl: “Thanks. Yep, that’s the fourth time he’s left his phone somewhere.”
Me: “Oh, jeez. Well, there go his privileges?”
Girl: *Rolling her eyes* “Yeah, my parents always say that. He’ll be grounded for a week, and that’s about it. Thanks!”
And with that, they flounced out of the store. I hope the boy didn’t get into too much trouble, and hopefully, he learned his lesson!
