A mom screamed at me because her kid didn’t win a balloon from our store’s giveaway. I calmly handed one to the kid. She snatched it from him, threw it at me, and shouted, ‘Let me speak to the manager now!’ What I didn’t expect was that her son came up to me and said, ‘I wish you were my mom.’
I stood there, stunned.
The bright red balloon had rolled across the floor, bumping into the candy display. My shift vest suddenly felt heavier. The boy looked up at me with these big, watery eyes.
He couldn’t have been more than seven or eight. I smiled, a bit awkwardly, unsure what to say. His mother was still yelling something about customer rights and how we were traumatizing her child.
“I’m sorry,” the little boy whispered. I bent down to his level. “It’s not your fault.
You did nothing wrong.”
He nodded but looked embarrassed, maybe even ashamed. That hit me harder than the balloon ever could. My manager, Alina, came rushing over with the tired, forced smile she wore on Saturdays.
She pulled me aside while the woman launched into her complaint like she was delivering a closing argument in court. I watched the boy sneak over to the balloon, pick it up, and tie it to his wrist while his mom wasn’t looking. Alina sighed.
“I know you didn’t do anything wrong, but go take your break. I’ll handle her.”
I took off my vest and headed toward the back, but before I disappeared, I heard the mom say, “This place is trash! And that girl—she tried to humiliate my son!”
I bit my tongue.
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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