Can I Speak to The Manager? || Miguel + Clara
Clara, on the other hand, did take offence to Shorty since she and Miguel sat at the same height. But she had always been self conscious about the way she looked so it wasn’t hard to get her riled up— even if it wasn’t her the woman was attacking.
But that was the catch of customer service, trying to figure out how to please the entitled and self absorbed without losing all of one’s faith in humanity.
Karen’s were a special breed. They were never self aware enough to understand the situation. Their general lack of empathy usually made it impossible to explain the situation at a level they would understand. They also had this weird expectation that just because someone worked somewhere, they had the power over everything. Until, of course, that power came to kicking them out and refusing to serve them any longer.
This woman seemed to fit that bill perfectly. If she was anything like the worst of them then they were one wrong move from a screaming rant or her using some sort of physical violence against them. (Much like a child throwing a temper tantrum but worse, obviously, since it was being done by a grown ass adult.)
“Okay! Well, we can always fix it by put in an order for that style in your size that you can come pick up at a later date.” She kept her tone from sinking into condescending. “Is there any other style you liked that we could help you with in the meantime?”
“A later date?!” The woman’s voice climbed up another octave, which Miguel thought, frankly, shouldn’t be possible.
“I cannot wait for another date! The event I need them for is tomorrow. So, either you charm them to be the right size or I will write you the most scathing review you’ve ever seen!”
Miguel couldn’t help it, he snorted. Seriously, he couldn’t imagine that review. What was she going to say? They didn’t have her size and the Magicks refused to do anything about it? It would only make her look stupid. Sure, this was the only Zapatos Rivera here in England, but back in Mexico City, they had quite a few shoppes and had an excellent reputation. So, a single one star review wasn’t even going to put a dent in all of that.
“Okay, Karen,” Miguel snorted sarcastically, hoping to make her, y’know, at least a little more self aware of her behavior. “You do that.”
“How do you know my name?!” shrieked the woman, who, apparently, was actually named Karen.
The ghosts howled in laughter.
“Are you in my head?! Are you some sort of psychopath?!”
“That’s--not what it’s ca--”
“Tell him to get out of my head!” Karen turned again towards Clara.
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