“Have a nice day,” Tom said as he placed the receipt in the plastic bag.
“Oh, I always do honey.”
Her jerky gate made him wince. How could he stop himself from judging people like this? He didn't know this woman, what her struggles were, or anything about her really. He gave a quick shake and cleared his mind before scanning the next items coming down the belt.
“Hi Tom, how are you doing today?”
There was something slightly familiar in the voice and face, but there were simply too many people to catalog.
“Oh, fine, just fine, how about yourself?”
“Well, Stan and Marsha were at it again this morning. You know it's hard for me to believe that siblings can be so nasty to each other. And of course it's up to me to try and maintain the peace, but honestly its these little trips away from the chaos that I need.”
The woman wasn't looking at him as she rifled through her purse. Tom often heard little snippets like this, and as was his usual, he put on the sympathetic face and nodded in agreement.
“Well I hope you bring the troops in line.”
The cold shock of rage in her blue eyes caught him off guard. He handed the bag of milk, cereal, bread and eggs over to her and felt his smile fade.
“Excuse me?” she said ripping the bag out of his hands.
“I'm sorry mam, I um...” He felt at a loss for the appropriate cliché apology. The laser beam glare of intensity emanating from her was so unexpected, but like a deer in headlights, he was too startled to look away.
“Tom, when I come in here and--” Tom braced himself, but the woman dropped off abruptly at the rattling sound of carts as they came through the double doors. She glanced back up at him and gave two small shakes of her head that were hardly perceptible before spinning away, her heels clacking on the tile floor.
“Wow, what was that about?”
Tom looked up to see a heavy set man in jeans and a flannel shirt. A case of beer and a bag of chips rolled down the conveyer belt.
“It must have been something I said, but I'll be damned if I know,” Tom said.
“Probably just her time of the month then,” the man rocked back on his heels and chuckled. Tom was disgusted by the way he shamelessly watched the woman walking away.
“Did you find everything alright?” Tom asked.
“Yeah, I sure did,” he said.
Tom logged in a few more hours of pleasantries and small talk. His elbow was beginning to act up on him again, but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle. Just before he was about to hang up his apron and name tag, he heard his name on the intercom.
“Hi Tom, could you have a seat?” Larry had replaced Jim as the store manager a year ago. His manicured nails and expensive suits seemed out of place in the store, but it was his pungent cologne that was the running joke.
“Well, I was about to head out, but what can I do for you Larry?”
“Please sit Tom.”
Tom sat down and felt immediate relief. The faux leather swivel back chair had some sort of shock absorber. Larry's Formica desk had neat stacks of paper and a sleek looking laptop that was closed. There were no family pictures in the office, but an enormous abstract painting in varying shades of red hung on the wall.
“Tom, I need to ask you about what happened today.” Larry said.
“Sure Larry, go ahead and ask me,” Tom smiled, but Larry's expressionless face seemed to harden. His hands were folded on his desk and for a moment neither of them said anything.
“Tom, do you agree that it is your duty to be polite and courteous to our customers?”
“Well, of course Larry.” He didn't appreciate the condescending tone of the manager that was at least ten years his junior.
“Are you aware that I was on the phone with a certain Samantha King for two hours this afternoon trying to smooth things over?”
It didn't take long to make the connection.
“Well no, how could I possibly know what you've been up to Larry? I've been down stairs all day, but I also don't know what it was that got the woman so upset.” Larry nodded and leaned back in his chair.
“So you do recall the woman I'm referring to?”
“Yes, she came in and started talking about her kids, and I wished her luck and she got all huffy.”
“You wished her luck?”
“Yes, I mean like I said, I have no clue what got her so upset.”
Larry picked up a gold cased pen and jotted something down on a yellow legal pad.
“Tom, she told me something very different.” Tom waited a moment for Larry to continue and raised his eyebrows.
“And?”
“Do you remember exactly what you said?” Larry asked. He tapped the end of the pen on the pad of paper three times to the word 'exactly'.
“No, I don't remember what I said verbatim, but I guarantee you it was both friendly and courteous.”
“You don't remember?”
“Larry, could you just tell me what the hell this is all about.” Another pause and then Larry swiveled to look at the painting on the wall. The theatrical run around was beginning to get to Tom as was the sickening sweet aroma of the man's cologne.
“Mrs. King informed me of the calloused thing you suggested.”
“What? I did no such thing!”
“What did you say Tom? I must say I find it a bit disturbing that you don't remember.”
“Jesus Larry! You can't expect me to remember everything I say to everyone throughout the day and--”
“Watch yourself Tom, I will not tolerate insubordination.”
“Alright, alright,” Tom said. He took a deep breath and nearly gagged on the room's fumes. “Larry, just tell me, what did she say I said. Could you please just tell me what this is about.”
Larry was still looking at the painting.
“Tom, have you ever served in the military?”
“No.”
“Do you have any family members that have served?”
“Sure, I think my uncle was in the marines, but why do you ask?”
Larry nodded a few times and then swiveled to face Tom, the golden pen tapping an erratic rhythm on the pad.
“Can you imagine what it's like to lose someone you love in war?”
“Oh, did Mrs. King lose someone? Is that what this is about?” Tom was struggling to put the pieces together. None of this made any sense.
“Well yes Tom. Mrs. King lost her husband in the war two months ago.”
“That's awful.”
“So when you go and start suggesting that her children join the war effort, you can see how this poor widow might become upset?” Larry placed the pen down next to the yellow pad, folded his hands and leaned forward on his desk.
“What? I didn't tell her to do that!”
“Well, what exactly did you say? Because according to Mrs. King you told her to enlist her two children.”
Tom's mind reeled. He went over the encounter that had started out so ordinary. What had he said? He remembered her talking about her kids bothering her, or maybe they were fighting with her or one another. Everything was fuzzy in his memory accept for the woman's look of rage. Those blue eyes were so bright and vibrant in his mind. The perfumed air was beginning to make his stomach churn.
“Larry, that is not at all what I said. I think I said something about keeping her kids in line or something, but--”
“Wait a minute. You told me that you wished her luck a moment ago.” Larry tapped at what he had scrawled on the pad.
“Well yes, I mean I think, but I certainly didn't--”
“Perhaps 'certainly' isn't the correct word Tom. It seems more and more that you are anything but certain.”
Tom opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again. He knew that other clerks could remember names and faces, but after fifteen years in the store, everyone seemed to coagulate into an amorphous nondescript entity. If someone had a feature that stuck out, Tom tried to overlook it. He felt that he was getting better and better at not casting judgment. Above all and he was sure to remain polite and positive.
“Unfortunately Tom, Mrs. King has made some demands and doesn't want to let this go. I won't get into the details of what she's threatened, but suffice it to say that the store would suffer, and I can't let that happen.”
“I'm sorry Larry, I still don't know what it is I said, but I will be sure to apologize.” The sour feeling in his stomach was accompanied by growing tension in his shoulders.
Larry nodded and his eyes softened. “Tom, I'm afraid she doesn't want an apology.”
“Well, what does she want?” But he already knew. Larry looked down at his desk and made a few more marks on the yellow paper.
“I'm sorry Tom. You've been a great asset to this store. Truly exceptional Tom, but Mrs. King has--”
“Just wait a God Damn minute Larry!”
“Watch you're language. This is the type of thing that got you in this mess to begin with.”
“Larry, you sit there like some sort of--” Tom stopped. He couldn't go on without further damaging his future.
“I'm sorry Tom.”
“Don't be sorry Larry. Don't say anything more. Please, just let me fix this.”
“I'm sorry Tom.”
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