We’re Looking For Assistance Not Resistance

I take my eighty-year-old grandmother to a large department store. We’re picking out some baby toys for a family gift. The store seems well-staffed, with two greeters at the door, three employees watching the self-serve section, and at least four cashiers on the registers. 

My grandmother, who’s one of the kindest, most cheerful people you’ll ever meet, always makes small talk with the staff. We head to the self-checkout and scan the first toy, but it’s missing the tag.

Grandma: “Oh dear, there’s no tag on this one. Excuse me, could you help us, please?”

One of the three women by the self-checkouts sighs loudly, rolls her eyes, and practically snatches the toy out of my grandmother’s hand.

Employee: “Ugh.” *Storms off without another word.*

We exchange a look. If I’d known we had to swap it, I’d have done it myself. Usually, they can just punch in a code.

A moment later, the employee storms back, slams the toy on the scanner so hard it nearly bounces, and it finally rings up.

Employee: “Next time, make sure it has a tag, so I don’t have to fetch it for you like a little slave.”

My grandmother goes pale. I’m fuming but bite my tongue; I don’t want to make a scene in front of her. We pay quietly and start walking toward the exit.

Just before we leave, I turn back to the employee and say:

Me: “I forgot the tag; you forgot your manners. I hope what you forgot was as easy to find as my thing.”

Not the most savage comeback, but I had to say something!