It’s been over a month since I started this novel, and frankly, I didn’t think anything would come of it. Now I’m here, past the 41K, possibly looking at going over the 50K mark, and feeling very confident that this is going to be my first novel. In fact, I’m already planning two books after this.
I’m feeling so great about this novel that I want to share part of the first chapter with you.
But first, here’s some background: I used to work in retail, and I encountered some of the worst people imaginable. Senior citizens who tried to force me into giving them discounts without my manager’s explicit go-ahead; stay-at-home moms who threatened to sic their husbands on me if I didn’t cave in to their demands; creepy young men who would leer at me (one even asked to smell my “feets”)… you name any breed of asshole, and chances are that I met them.
That’s what I’ve written about in this sample. Let me tell you, it was kind of therapeutic. I got to take the worst out of every customer I remember, ball it up into one character, and watch the scene unfold. It’s the magic of writing.
Now keep in mind that this is from the first draft, so it’s not quite polished yet. Grammatical and spelling errors, brackets in place of better words, and general word glut may abound.
Characters and text copyright 2012 Sabrina Winters. All rights reserved.
Lore Bradshaw just wanted to go home.
She wanted to throw her shoes off her bruised feet, burn her apron, lie down in her bed, and forget she was ever desperate enough to apply to the grocery store.
Most of all, she wanted to forget all the horrible, rude customers that ever came to her register. Those who pushed aside the register blocker that indicated she was closed for the night. Those who demanded that she ring up their thirty items in her twelve items or less lane. And especially those who waited until the end of a transaction to present their savings card.
“Now you’re going to have to do it all over again!” yelled the woman who was making every effort to intimidate Lore. She leaned in with her orange-tanned face, every concealer-caked pore visible. Her burgundy dress suit didn’t help the color scheme.
“I’m sorry. I asked for your savings card at the beginning, and you said that you’d give it to me after—”
“Don’t you argue with me!” The woman slammed her fists down on the counter. All eyes were on her. “Do you have any idea what an inconvenience this is? I can’t be sitting at home counting up everything to make sure that you didn’t make a mistake! I’m a busy woman! I’m important! I’ve got things to do with my life!”
The man with her, probably her husband or boyfriend, seemed very interested in the candy. What little Lore could see of his face indicated that he wasn’t lost in childhood memories of candy stores. He was clearly just as tortured by the woman’s raging.
Ben, the daytime manager, came scurrying up. Fear filled his eyes, but he kept his voice even. “Yes, ma’am, how can we help you?”
The woman spun around and regarded with a wretched glare. “Your cashier—” She pointed a blood red fingernail at Lore “—didn’t ask for my savings card when she started to ring up my items! How do I know if I’ve been cheated?”
Lore’s stomach twisted. She wanted to run away, hide in the break room and lick her wounds until she was brave enough to face the public again. In two weeks. Or a month.
The man at the candy braved a look at the woman. Lore pegged him at thirty-five or so in maturity; the angular lines of his strong face said late twenties. The dark blazer and dress pants spoke of a corporate career; a ladder-climbing, perhaps customer-free career. His dark brown hair shone auburn in the lights, and fell around his face in a handsome shaggy cut. Contempt filled his hazel eyes when they fell on the woman.
The thought that he disliked the woman gave Lore some comfort. But in the end, what did it matter if another person thought the customer was a horrible human being? Hating customers didn’t give her an edge over them, nor did it improve her life. Getting out of retail entirely would.
Ben had been cramming the woman’s cart with her groceries. He topped off the pile with the long receipt. “If you want, ma’am I can take you over at register nine, and we can ring up everything again—”
“No. I’m going straight to customer service and have them check everything! I’m not walking out of here until I’m sure that I’ve saved every possible cent advertised in this store! Maybe if you didn’t hire community college rejects...”
Her voice faded as she stormed away to the service desk on the other end of the store. Ben sighed, threw Lore an apologetic look, and hustled after the customer.
Lore sucked in air. Customers around her whispered and shook their heads. “Bitch demon,” muttered an older woman.
The man turned to Lore with a gourmet lollipop. Watermelon flavor. Lore rang it up. She gave him the total in a small voice. She quickly coughed and said the total again.
“Do you need a bag?” she asked.
“No.”
He gave her the correct change. When she handed him the lollipop, he gently pushed back on her hand. He was warm and tender; she realized just how chilly her own skin was, and almost yanked back her hand to slip it in her pocket.
She looked up at him curiously. His hazel eyes shone with regret and understanding. She spotted the gold band on his finger. Lore felt so sorry for him.
“I apologize for her,” he said. His voice was filled with pity and... a strange sense of determination.
“It’s not your fault.” Lore fought back a sniffle.
He gestured to the lollipop. “I know it’s not much, but...” He shrugged. “When I was little, my grandma would buy me a little treat. ‘A little sweet to chase away the sour,’ she used to say.” He looked over his shoulder at the customer service desk. “It’ll take an entire continent of sugar to chase that one away.”
Just as he said that, the woman returned. She pushed the cart before her, a smug smile on her face, speaking to Ben loud enough for Lore to hear.
“... such rudeness. Customer service used to be better back in the day. That’s when people actually cared.”
“We’re sorry about this, ma’am.”
“You should be. I was totally mistreated,” the woman sniffed. “Perhaps you should consider retraining this one.”
Ben sighed. But before he could speak, the woman turned on him.
“But don’t you think that I’m going to remain a loyal customer after this.” She pulled out her savings card from her wallet. “This... is my payback.”
The woman marched around the register, grabbed a pair of scissors (bumping Lore hard in the process), and marched to the bagging end of the counter. She started cutting the savings card into pieces, her face contorting into a mask of dark glee.
Lore watched, almost detached. What was this woman trying to prove? She looked over at the man, who was shaking his head.
The card pieces sat on the counter. The woman scraped them up in one hand, brandishing the scissors in the other. Her eyes flashed with evil intent as she glared up at Lore.
“You are in customer service! You should be bending over backwards for the people you serve!” The corner of her mouth twitched. “Don’t be surprised if I never shop here again!”
Lore shielded herself as the woman threw the card pieces at her. She had just lowered her arms when the scissors came flying. They ricocheted around the register and counter before clattering at her feet.
Reveling in the imagined victory, the woman turned to the man. “Come along, Zander.”
The man quickly turned to Lore. “Are you all right? Did you get cut?”
Lore was almost afraid to put her arms down and look. “I don’t know.”
She felt his warm hands on her arms. “Let me check—”
“Zander,” came the warning.
Lore looked down and saw the man’s hands turning her arms around. He smiled and let her pull them back to her body.
“Sorry. I just had to see if you were okay.”
“Zander...”
His mouth moved as if he were going to curse at the woman, but he restrained himself. He offered a sympathetic look to Lore.
“You take care of yourself, all right?”
She nodded, too tired and weak for words.
The woman glared at Lore one last time. Her bangle earrings shuddered. Lore realized with some terror that the woman was controlling another bout of rage—just barely. When the man had caught up to her, she raced out the grocery store, hunched over the cart like a deformed monster.
Lore held in her emotions. She had to while she rang up the last three customers in her line. Ben had closed her lane with the wall, and was patiently waiting for the last customer to leave.
That last customer was the old lady with the walker. She didn’t have a savings card and said she didn’t need one, not for the groceries she usually bought. Before she strolled off, she glanced at the doors through with the customer from hell had disappeared.
“I bet you anything that battle-ax was spoiled something awful by her father.”
Lore smiled for the first time in several minutes. She couldn’t openly agree with her, not with Ben standing right there, but the smile was enough.
The woman took her bag of kiwi fruit. “Enjoy your lollipop, sweetie. I hope more sweet things come your way.”
“Thank you,” Lore said softly.
When the customer was gone, she turned to Ben. “I quit. I can’t do this anymore.” She untied the apron ribbons at her neck.
“Lore, you’ve dealt with worse—”
“I’ve never had a customer throw sharp objects at me!” Her voice almost broke. She gave herself a few seconds before continuing. “I do everything you tell me. I do everything the customers tell me. I’m nice, I’m courteous, and it’s still not enough for anyone.”
“You can’t help what people do—”
She pointed a finger at him. “And you didn’t stand up for me. You knew I was in the right. You knew she was crazy. Any other manager would have stepped in to protect his employee.”
Ben held up his hands. “N-now, Lore, let’s not... let’s not...”
Lore shook her head and groaned. “It’s not worth it.”
She threw the apron down on the conveyor belt and stormed off to the break room to collect her purse. She heard the murmurs of horrified coworkers and a few requests to have the police called and track down the woman. Clutching the lollipop in one hand, she remembered the man and his kind eyes.
It was little consolation for Lore.
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