Shopping with Miranda and Richard

Last night, Richard was putting brake shoes on his car and I was standing beside him, chatting, when he said, “Curses, Canadian Tire sold me the wrong package.  These are not going to fit.  Back I go for an exchange.”

“I will come along too,” I said, “since I need a cable to hook my printer up to my laptop.  I left mine in B.C. and so perhaps we can stop by Staples as well as Canadian Tire.”

We picked up Miranda and it wasn’t long before all of us were at the Customer Service Counter of the store. 

I always tell people that my brother Glen says, if they don’t sell it at Canadian Tire, you don’t need it.  However Richard was having trouble negotiating his deal – they wanted him to take the $70 new package, straight across for the $90 old package since he didn’t have his receipt.  He was trying to have them agree to give him the $20 difference when he brought the receipt in to them. 

Everything else I am going to type happened in the same 20 seconds.  I was standing back, watching the transaction, and standing close to Miranda was standing another customer who had spoken to me at length.

“Do you want me to get you a cart,” he said.

“No, I am fine.  I am just waiting for my son.”

“That is your son?  You should kick his butt,” he said.

“I did.  That is why he is such a fine man.”

“You are being recorded on video,” he went on.  By this time he was close enough that I could see that his mouthwash was serious alcohol and he was sweating profusely.   I moved a step away, giving him the view of my cold shoulder and I was watching Miranda and Richard finish at the till.

The man then moved to be beside Miranda and began to rub her buttocks.  She was quiet.  Then turned to him and said, “Keep your hands to yourself.”  At the same time, I was at the counter saying to the young clerk who had no patrons at his till, “You have to get rid of that man.  He is assaulting your customers.”

“Oh, I can’t do that.  I am just a clerk.  That is a job for the manager,” he said and he stood there stunned.

The three of us began moving toward the Exit door and I was leaning into Miranda’s shoulder saying, 

“Just what happened there, please?”

She said, “I don’t know exactly.  I felt someone rubbing my bottom, and I thought it might be Richard ... until I saw his both of his hands on the counter.”

“Is this something Richard does often in public?, I asked.

“No, never,” she went on. “That is why I was checking where his hands were.”  Then I thought for a split second it might be you,” she continued “trying to move me over and so that you could get in between Richard and me, but over my shoulder I could see you were directly behind me.  That is when I realized it was that guy next to me who had his hands on me.”

“Great job,” I said to Richard.  “You let Miranda take care of that without stepping in.”

“Well, you can say that if you want,” he replied, “but I was right out of the loop.  I had no idea what was going on until you guys just started talking about it as we were leaving the store.  I was intent on getting my $20 back.”

I said, “Well, as Glen says, if you can’t get it at Canadian Tire, you don’t need it, and in this case, there was extra involved in the transaction.  All hail Canadian Tire.”

Still shaking our heads, we wheeled over to Staples to get my USB chord.  “That will be $31.28,” said the clerk.  As I was peeling my money out of my wallet, Richard replied, “You have got to be kidding.  I can get a new printer for about $50."  On hearing that statement, I began to put my money back into my purse. I had no idea where I was going to go to find the cable I needed, but I could tell it wasn’t going to be there from the sound in Richard’s voice.

“We are off to Memory Express,” said Miranda.  She was right -- $6.23 for a similar chord.

All’s well that ends well.