Last week was one of those rare occasions when something catches your eye and you just can’t shake it off. For me, it was a designer backpack, elegantly displayed in the window of a boutique downtown. It wasn’t just any store, but one that boasted an array of luxury items that could make any fashion enthusiast’s heart skip a beat. So, on a whim, dressed in my usual hoodie and ripped jeans, I decided to step in.
The store was quiet, an air of understated luxury permeating the space. I wandered around, waiting for assistance as sales staff passed by with barely a glance my way. Finally, I approached a saleswoman who seemed more interested in her phone than the customers.
“Could you please bring me that green backpack? I’d like to take a closer look,” I asked, pointing to the display.
She sized me up with a disdainful look from head to toe. “It’s impossible unless you’re planning on purchasing the item,” she replied curtly.
Stunned by her assumption, I left the store, my interest in the backpack overshadowed by her rudeness.
A few days later, curiosity and a bit of mischief brought me back to the store. Donning the same casual attire, I noticed the same saleswoman. Her eyes rolled upon seeing me, but her attitude took a complete turn when a man in a crisp suit entered. She rushed over with a wide smile.
“Sir, how can I help you today?” she beamed.
Before he could reply, he walked straight over to me and gave me a kiss. The saleswoman’s face dropped as he turned to her and said, “Could you please show my wife that green backpack she likes?”
Her eyes widened in realization as it dawned on her. The man was my husband, not to mention the owner of the store. The color drained from her face as we both followed her to the display.
After examining the backpack, which was indeed as lovely up close as it was in the window, I decided to purchase it. My husband chatted with the saleswoman, his tone friendly but firm. “I believe everyone who walks into our store deserves respect, no matter what they wear. Do you agree?”
She nodded, her earlier confidence replaced with a chastened agreement. As we left, backpack in hand, she offered a stuttering apology. “I’m sorry for the misunderstanding,” she said, but we both knew it was more than that.
The drive home was filled with laughter and plans on improving customer service training for the store. It was a reminder that appearances could be deceiving, and sometimes, those who seem the least likely can be the most surprising. It was not just a lesson for her but for anyone who might think to judge a book by its cover—or a customer by their jeans.
