Sales Agent Flips off Poor Client at Fancy Store – Story of the Day

The bell's chime drew Wendy's attention to the door. Her poised greeting faltered at the sight of the old man shuffling in, his weathered coat revealing his financial status. Suppressing her distaste, she approached him with forced politeness.

"Good afternoon, sir. Can I assist you?" Wendy's voice dripped with saccharine sweetness, belying her inner disdain.

The old man, sporting a pleasant smile, inquired about shoes for his granddaughter. Wendy chuckled awkwardly, suggesting he might find better options elsewhere.

"But I want these," the man insisted, pointing at an expensive pair.

Wendy's patience wore thin. "Trust me, these are beyond your means. Please, it's best if you leave."

The old man persisted, asserting his financial capability.

"Enough!" Wendy lost her temper, her fake façade crumbling entirely. "You need to get out of here before I call mall security. You're already stinking up the store with your rusty, old smell, and other, more brand-like people have passed by without even entering. You think you can wear one of these shoes?"

The older client shut his mouth, shocked at the contempt from this saleswoman. Several other customers had noticed. Erica, Wendy's coworker, overheard disparaging remarks, but their manager, Mr. Anderson, summoned them both to his office before she could say anything.

Before dashing off, Wendy left a stern warning for the old man. "Listen, I'm going to see my boss, and when I come back out, I expect you to be gone," she gestured with her finger. "Don't you dare touch any shoes while no one is here! You won't be able to run far before mall security gets you. Am I clear?"

In Mr. Anderson's office, Wendy, head held high, assessed the situation. Erica stood attentive, the picture of compliance. "Brown noser," Wendy mused, subtly adjusting her attire. Her boss was a sucker for an hourglass figure. His lingering gaze confirmed her tactics worked.

Mr. Anderson grinned from behind his desk, breaking the news of his impending promotion. Erica's excitement bubbled over with congratulations while Wendy added her signature sugar-coated remarks, masking her true ambition.

As the conversation shifted to Mr. Anderson's departure. "Of course, this news means one of you will be promoted to store manager. As you know, we like to keep our employees happy and give chances within the team," he said.

Wendy's mind raced. She understood the company's inclination toward internal promotions, sensing an opportunity for herself, especially given her tenure.

When the store manager role topic arose, Wendy's confidence surged. She expected her seniority to seal the deal.

"Actually, gals. In this case, being here longer won't get you the position," Mr. Anderson clarified, biting his bottom lip. "Our brand wants to focus on quality, not quantity. Instead, you'll have a little competition today."

"Today?" Wendy croaked, and the manager went into detail – whoever made the biggest sale of the day would get promoted.

Wendy, momentarily worried, swiftly shifted to strategizing. Her smirk hinted at her determination, confident in her ability to identify potential big spenders compared to Erica's approach.

"Of course, Mr. Anderson. It's a great opportunity," Wendy concluded, exiting the office, her mind already concocting a plan to secure that top sale.

Wendy returned to the store, her nervousness palpable. With a slow day, every sale counted for the promotion. Having made a modest sale earlier, Erica hinted at assisting the lingering old man.

"That's not a customer. That's a nuisance," Wendy dismissed, eyes fixed on the entrance.

"Wendy, maybe he does want to buy something," Erica insisted, too cheery. "You should go help him. It wouldn't be right to let customers think we don't welcome everyone."

Suddenly, Wendy spotted a well-dressed young man entering, her eyes lighting up with certainty.

"I've got my eye on a different customer," she asserted smugly, eyeing the man browsing the expensive shoes.

As Wendy engaged with the well-dressed customer, Tony, Erica turned her attention to the old man. Their interaction revealed the old man's desire to find the perfect shoes for his granddaughter, a detail that resonated with Erica's empathetic nature.

"My granddaughter doesn't complain about anything, but she is so picky about shoes," the old man remarked.

Embracing the moment, Erica connected with the old man, and they laughed together the entire time.

Wendy juggled shoes while Tony took his time examining each pair, even snapping pictures—an unusual behavior for most customers. She maintained her smile, though her impatience grew with every passing moment.

Tony finally settled on a pair, admiring himself in the mirror. "These are my favorite," he declared with satisfaction.

"They're an excellent choice, sir. You have an eye for quality," Wendy complimented, genuinely impressed by his taste, which didn't gravitate towards the most expensive pairs.

Tony leaned back, beginning to remove his shoes. Wendy, seizing the opportunity, knelt, subtly displaying the cleavage she strategically revealed earlier for Mr. Anderson. "Let me assist you with that," she offered flirtatiously.

"You're good at your job," Tony acknowledged, admiring her.

"I'm even better at other things, Tony," she teased.

"Okay," Tony interrupted, reaching for his phone. "These three pairs are the winners—black, blue, and dark green."

"Great choices!" Wendy beamed. "Let me ring them up for you."

"What? You think I'm buying stuff here?" he scoffed, sending Wendy into momentary shock.

"I-I thought..." Wendy stuttered, her smile fading.

"I'm not paying these prices," Tony continued, ranting about his hate of capitalism and overpricing of merchandise just because of a brand name.

Wendy stood dumbfounded as his words sank in. Her anticipation and effort had come to naught. "Have a very nice day, sir," she managed to say, masking her disappointment as Tony left the store.

Her heart raced as she finally noticed Erica conversing with the old man.

"Sir, let me put these back, and I'll ring the shoes you've picked," her perky voice grated and gave Wendy goosebumps. The old, poor man was buying something. Not just something. Three pairs of shoes!

Wendy couldn't allow that as it was almost closing time. Instead, she followed Erica to the back of the store, where the shoe storage was located. She pushed her coworker into a closet and closed the door tightly.

"Wendy! Wendy!" Erica screamed, but Wendy's high heels were already back at the store. "Sir, let's ring up your choices," she said, smiling widely and grabbing the three boxes the old man had beside him.

"Wait. Where is Erica?" he asked, following her to the register.

"Oh, she got busy in the back and asked me to handle this," Wendy lied seamlessly as her fingers hurried on the keys. The total was almost $1,000, but the old man didn't blink as he passed her his card.

"Mr. Eaton," she read the name on the card. Black card. Well, I really got this wrong. "You're all set here, sir."

Mr. Eaton frowned, asking why Wendy's name and not Erica's appeared on the receipt. Wendy tried to make an excuse, but the old man insisted that Erica deserved the commission.

"I won't leave until I get to thank and say goodbye to Erica," the old man insisted.

"Sir, I had to come out here because…Erica needed to leave early. It's a family emergency or something. That's why she asked me to help with your order," Wendy replied. God, leave!

"That's a lie!" someone bellowed, and Wendy's heart skipped a beat at the vision of Erica standing next to Mr. Anderson.

"Erica, don't create a scene in front of our customers," Wendy tried to assert, her face tight with growing tension.

"A scene?" Erica's voice boomed. "You locked me in the closet!"

"That's..." Wendy wore her best offended expression. "Insane! Erica, I would never do that!"

"Who's going to believe you?" Wendy thought, facing their boss, Mr. Anderson.

"Wendy, you know we have cameras in the storage room, right?" Mr. Anderson's stern voice cut through her lies.

"Of course," Wendy stammered, her composure faltering. "We should check them. Totally."

"I already have," Mr. Anderson disclosed, and Wendy's world crumbled. "I saw you locking her."

"Sir, that's not true," Wendy murmured. "I just… didn't think it was fair that someone who hasn't been here as long as me could become the boss. She doesn't even respect or understand this brand."

"And you do?" Mr. Eaton asked. Wendy turned to give him a nasty reply, but his expression gave her pause.

"Sir, this doesn't concern you. You have your items; if you excuse us, it's closing time," she said instead.

Mr. Eaton turned to Mr. Anderson and nodded.

Their boss cleared his throat. "Ladies, let me introduce our brand's CEO," Mr. Anderson stated, waving to the old man. Their manager explained that Mr. Eaton had arranged this test to determine who should be promoted.

As Mr. Eaton addressed Erica and Wendy, Wendy's facade crumbled further, her hopes shattered by Mr. Eaton's scathing remarks about her attitude towards him and other customers.

"It wasn't enough to try to shoo me from my store, but you mocked me. Mocked me. In front of other customers. You think that makes you good at your job?" Mr. Eaton asked. "You're fired.

Then, he praised Erica for everything, announcing her as the new store manager.

"Sir, please," Wendy begged. "Give me another chance. I beg you. I could lose my apartment."

"That's not our problem," Mr. Eaton shook his head. "Get out before I call mall security." The words were a knife in her cold heart.

No!!

"Let's go to Mr. Anderson's office," Mr. Eaton said to Erica. "We need to discuss your new salary, and you'll need some help here."

They left, and Wendy watched them go. Her usual snarkiness had not returned because the numbness still had control of her body. But she didn't want to stay there any longer. In the back area, she grabbed her purse, stole a candy bar for later, and moved to leave.

"Wendy, I'm sorry about this," Erica started.

"Don't feel sorry for me," Wendy barked. "I'll find a much better job soon."

"Wendy, stop that attitude," her former coworker said. "It's what got you in this pickle, and I want to offer you the chance to make things right."

"A chance? I don't need your pity, little girl," Wendy scoffed, but her bravado was fake. She did need the job.

"Wendy, you're letting your pride cloud your judgment here," Erica continued, and her levelheadedness was infuriating.

"Oh, God! Can you get off your high horse? You're so irritating. I can't stand it," she screamed and started swinging her purse. "Get out of my way! Get out of my way!"

Wendy walked into the almost empty mall and turned, only to see Mr. Anderson and Mr. Eaton shaking their heads. Erica joined them, and then they disappeared to the back.

In the following years, Wendy found herself in a different job, working at a large department store. She attempted to become a fashion influencer but failed to gain traction, finding herself stuck in a position that didn't align with her aspirations.

One day, she ran into Erica. They had a short conversation, but Wendy discovered her former coworker was married to Mr. Eaton's grandson and had a child. As they left, happy and in love, Wendy could only think of one thing: she should've accepted Erica's olive branch because second chances were rare.

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