Perfect

Perfect

It was defective—it had to be.

“I want to return this.” My voice felt tight in my throat. Any company with any modicum of self-respect would not solicit broken products! I wasn’t going to stand for it! “I want to return it and I want to get a new one. Right now!”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“What’s--” I scoffed, my head atilt. This was truly unbelievable. How could this woman possibly not see? “What’s wrong with it? What’s wrong it? Are you kidding me—look at this!”

I held it up in front of the woman’s eyes. Her response was, unsurprisingly, quite delayed, and she regarded the offending object with unabashed disinterested.

“Ma’am...” She started, her tiny gaze swiveling upright to meet mine, “Is this some kinda joke? Are you trying to be funny right now?”

I chewed the inside of my cheek. The nerve! “This mirror is broken! It’s been fine for all these months, and I—suddenly, I get up this morning… there was something there. I know there is something wrong with this mirror and I want a new one! I want to return this one right now.”

The clerk stared at me with puffy, unintelligent eyes. There was a certain dullness there; a lack of reaction and concern that made me want to grab her fat neck and strangle her. This was the worst customer service I’d ever experienced! Where was the kindness? Where was that American compassion that businesses so generously toted?

“Do you have a receipt?” She grunted out thickly. I seized up with impatience.

“No.” I hissed. “I do not. It has your label on it and it is obviously defective. Why can’t you just give me a new one?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I cannot issue out a replacement without the receipt for your purchase.”

“Where is your supervisor? Let me speak to them. Let me speak to them!”

The woman’s jaw twitched. Our eyes met, stagnant and unyielding, as she continued to perpetuate that damnable impassive attitude. I was certainly going to have a word with her supervisor! This woman had no business in a customer service position!

Fortunately she soon enough bowed out, issuing a defeated sigh. A smug smile curled over my perfect lips. “Please wait here, ma’am.” There was a light shuffling. She wobbled from behind the counter, disappearing beyond an adjacent archway. When she returned, a mirror was locked in her piggy little hands. I felt myself salivating with victory.

“Perfect!” I yelped, snatching it from her upon it being within reach, “Absolutely perfect! May I try it out here?”

The woman gave me a toady look. I could’ve cared less, and I held the mirror up to my face, only to be horrified as the very same flaw made it’s unnatural appearance!

“What is this?!” I felt myself roaring, ravenous with rage. My hands began to quiver. “The same imperfection is present! Your products are defective! I know what I’ll do. Do you know what I’ll do? I’ll sue you. I’ll sue you, and your ridiculous company!”

The woman sighed, nurturing the bridge of her bulbous nose with her gelatinous fingers. “It’s you.” She murmured in that stuffy voice. “It’s you. It’s been you this entire time. You were in a car accident! Your face has permanent scarring from being burned. You need help—you have to stop coming here like this. I can’t do this anymore. I don’t get paid enough to put on this little show for you!”

I shifted, my lips locking into a thin line, my eyes surveying her as disgust welled into my stomach. I took the mirrors, both of them, and launched them in her direction.

They shattered as they hit the ground.