The woman stared into the handheld mirror, horrified.
“I look like a circus clown,” she cried, throwing the mirror on the floor, causing it to slide into the base of an adjacent counter. The glass shattered loudly into hundreds of pieces. Everyone in the area of the Jenkins and Turner Department Store’s cosmetic counter turned in surprise, trying to get a look at the ghastly scene emerging.
Maggie Quinlan, the red-faced cosmetic counter clerk, looked down at her hands, unable to speak. She was shaking like a Chihuahua on speed.
“May I be of assistance?” a syrupy voice came from behind Maggie. The voice belonged to Assistant Store Manager Helen D’Agostino, Maggie’s daily nightmare.
“This was supposed to be a makeover,” wailed the woman at the counter, “but look what she did to me.” The woman thrust her face inches in front of Ms. D’Agostino, who backed away quickly.
Now that Maggie took a longer look at the woman’s face, she had to admit the woman did appear a bit clownish. She supposed her hand had been heavier than she’d anticipated, but the store should have trained her better. Her face displayed wrinkles that looked like highways on a road atlas. The thick foundation Maggie had plastered on was laying deep inside each wrinkle, which separated each time the woman spit out words. It was also probably three shades lighter than her natural tone, Maggie admitted to herself, making her look zombie-like. Her eyebrows were a thick mass of black fur, and the eye shadow was so dark the woman looked like an extra in a horror movie.
Maggie’s eyes resumed their downward gaze after she studied her handiwork. Typical, she thought. She was failing again at a job and couldn’t even help herself.
“I want that—woman—fired,” the customer screamed, pointing at Maggie.
Maggie tried to hide herself behind Ms. D’Agostino. The woman continued her tirade, arms flapping about. “She’s not even wearing makeup. Why is she even in this department?”
Ms. D’Agostino’s smile never left her face as she moved away from Maggie, putting her hand on the angry woman’s shoulder.
“The store will be happy to give you a one-hundred-dollar gift card, and of course, you have my apology. Jenkins and Turner Department Store has always ensured their customers’ happiness comes first.” She turned to Maggie and furled her eyebrows. “And I will personally deal with this salesclerk myself.”
Maggie gulped and wrung her hands, wishing she could disappear altogether. Her long raven hair created a curtain that hid her reddening face.
The customer backed down a bit and her tone softened. “Well,” she began, “I guess that’s all right.” She picked up another mirror and ran her fingers through her hair. “Could I get some cream to wipe this stuff off? I was going to meet my husband for dinner, but I obviously can’t go looking like this.”
Muffled laughs came from the group that had gathered around. The woman turned to glare at them, quickly scattering the onlookers.
Maggie watched as Ms. D’Agostino reached into her blazer and pulled out a gift card, handing it to the flustered woman.
“Take it to any cashier, and they’ll activate it for you.”
She turned to Maggie. Never losing the sugar in her voice, she instructed Maggie to get some makeup removing cream and tissues for the woman.
At first, Maggie just stood there. All five feet ten inches of her were glued to the floor, disgusted with herself for freezing like she always did when someone was displeased with her. She longed to be able to stand up for herself, but somehow could never summon up the courage to tell people how she really felt. When would she ever grow a backbone?
“Maggie, dear,” said Ms. D’Agostino repeated, smiling through clenched teeth, “tissues and cream?”
Exhaling, Maggie nodded and headed off to another counter to retrieve the items.
“Honestly,” she heard the woman say, “that girl is a menace. I hate to be a meanie, but she truly needs to find employment elsewhere.”
Maggie returned with the cream and tissues, deeply hurt by the customer’s comments. The woman grabbed them from Maggie before she could even offer them.
“Again, ma’am, please accept our apology.” Ms. D’Agostino gave a deferential bow to the woman, who grunted and walked off, wiping her face with the tissues, mumbling to herself.
Ms. D’Agostino turned to Maggie. “A word, Ms. Quinlan.” She turned on her heels and Maggie had no choice but to follow.
