The Battle Of The A**es

, , , , | Right | January 22, 2020

(My husband and I go to a large chain hardware store to look for gardening supplies. The associates at this store have bright orange aprons with the company’s name on the front. I am wearing shorts, flip-flops, and a black T-shirt featuring a certain smart mouth antihero. We are in the outdoor gardening section when my husband leaves to use the restroom. A moment later, a woman comes through the doors. We nod to one another and she goes on shopping. I begin wandering around, looking at different plants, when the same woman comes up beside me. Again, I nod at her and smile before going back to my browsing. Then, I hear her huff. I assume I am in her way so I step to the side.)

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry.”

Woman: “Are you done?”

Me: “No?”

Woman: “I need that ceramic pot.” *points to a large pot on the top shelf*

Me: “Um, I don’t know if they have a ladder or you need someone else to go up there or… I… I… really don’t know.”

Woman: “Of course, you need a ladder!” *points to a ladder at the end of the aisle*

Me: “Okay, then.”

(I turn to walk away when she grabs my arm and spins me back around.)

Me: “Excuse me?!”

Woman: “Are you going to get that for me?”

Me: “Um… no.”

Woman: “What do you mean, no?”

Me: “I mean, no, I’m not climbing up there to get a pot for you.”

Woman: “Yes, you are!”

Me: “Look, lady, I don’t know who you think you are but—”

Woman: “I’m a paying customer!”

Me: “So am I!”

(The woman finally actually looks at me and realizes I am not an employee. She marches off to find a real employee and I go to find my husband. I give him a short version of what happened — “This lady just got mad because she thought I work here!” — and we go on shopping. On our way out of the store, I see the woman in the parking lot just a few parking spots over, loading her ceramic pot into the back of her car. Upon seeing me, she points triumphantly to her pot, and then gives me two middle fingers and yells out:)

Woman: “Smarta** b****!”

(I return the gesture and yell back:)

Me: “Better than being a dumba** b****!”

Husband: *confused* “What… what do you do when I’m gone?”

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