I look over to where the faint voice is coming from as I continue to face the stock in the section I’m working on while wishing in my head I didn’t have to work this job.
No one is looking at me.
I look over again. No one is looking at me.
“Can I see that stool?”
I look over and an older Asian lady, probably in her late 40s, is looking at me pointing at the shelf.
I grab the stool and hand it to the lady.
“How does it unfold?”
I easily unfold the stool while my body language screams “Duh!”
“How tall is this stool?”
I look at the sticker that is boldly placed on the front of the stool and answer, “It says 3 feet 7 inches.”
“Ohhh,” remarks the lady as she forms a puzzled look on her face.
“Well, how tall will it be if I’m standing on the stool?”
Growing increasingly frustrated that this hag is keeping me around her and asking dumbass questions, I answer, “I have no idea. How tall are you?”
“I’m 5 feet 4 inches,” she answers.
“Well, then it’ll be 8 feet 11 inches,” I dryly reply.
“Oh, well my ceilings are 9 feet. Do you think this will work so I can get the ceilings?”
“But it’s not 9 feet.”
“You have arms, don’t you? That should be good for another foot.”
“Oh, yeah, yeah…arms,” she says as she now reaches toward the sky with one of her arms.
“Yes, like that,” I say with my blood pressure now 300/150.
“Whats the difference between this one and that one?” she says pointing to another stool.
“That one just has a tray.”
“Ohhh…so I can use that one to clean, right?
“I can put a bucket on there, right?”
“Yes, you can put whatever you want on there.”
“Ohhh…I want to put my husband to work. Can he use these?” she asks.
“Which one is better for ladies?
If my face could show me emotions it would be tomato red with bloodshot eyes.
“I have no idea! Which one do you like?”
“I think this one,” she says as she points to the one with the tray.
“Then that one is better for ladies,” I say as a co-worker is looking on from a distance laughing as she clearly picks up my frustration.
“Ohh…okay. I have to take this into the city. Which one is better for storage?“
“They’re the same exact thing! One just has a (MOTHERFUCKING) tray!”
“Ohh, I think this one is better for storage as she now holds the two stools next to each other.”
“Okay, then take that one!”
“Okay, thank you,” she says and begins to walk away, clearly satisfied with her selection.
I walk to the back and take a break.