From my days working in the Mall. This was written during the October 2003 Graffiti Sprawl at The Writer's Rendez-Vous.As a department manager of the store, I was paged for phone calls all the time. I took phone calls every day at work, all day long. They were always the same; complaints like "I'm gonna have you fired, boy!" and "You never have what's in the ad!" and my personal favorite "It's cheaper at some other store." (Why didn't you buy it there, then, you dumb cluck.)
This call was different. At first, I thought it was a prank call; I looked around to see if anyone was on the phone at another register, but everyone was busy with customers. No prank.
"I'm sorry ma'am. would you mind repeating that," I asked.
"You've got to get over here," she whispered.
"Where?" I asked.
"My kitchen! The police said I should call you."
"Yes ma'am. The police? What did they say I need to do?"
"They said you could take care of this since it's yours."
"What is it?"
"The dishes!"
"The dishes?"
"YES- the devil's in them."
"The devil is in your dishes?" I looked around desperately. This had to be a joke.
"The devil made 'em explode! I need you to come over here and get them." I didn't know if I should laugh or hang up the phone and run.
"I'm sorry, ma'am, but I won't get off work for another four hours. Do you have your receipt? or the box?"
"Yes. I charged them on my charge-plate."
"I'll be glad to give you credit for the dishes. Just stop by when you can and ask for the manager."
"But I'm afraid to touch the pieces- the devil will get me."
"Are the police still there?"
"Yes. Here."
"This is Officer Blake."
"Officer, would you mind disposing of the dishes? I'm not going to ask her to bring them back since she is so frightened. I can just give her credit. It sounds as if no one has been hurt and I don't won't this to be anymore troubling for her."
"We can take care of it."
"Thank you." We hung up. Whew. That was an odd one. I looked around one more time to be sure no one was watching me an snickering.
I went on about my usual duties for the day. About two hours later, I noticed an older lady putting down the aisle holding a wrinkled grocery bag. Behind her by about 10 feet, putted a little man wearing a fedora and shaking his head. She was headed toward the Customer Service desk.
Oh no!! It had to be her! the devil dishes!!!
Oh no, oh no, oh no!! I leaped across a bin of pillows and sideswiped a bin of blankets. I heard my pants rip when the pocket caught on the corner of the bin.
I managed to slide through the door that separated the customer service counter from the sales floor and into the customer service area just as the customer plunked the wrinkled bag onto the counter.
"May I help you, ma'am?" asked the girl at the counter before I could take over. Damn!
"Yes, that red-headed boy told me to bring this back to you. The devil busted them all to pieces." The girl's eyes opened wide and her mouth dropped a little, but she recovered just as the little man scooted up to the counter, his head still shaking "no".
"OK, were they on your charge?"
"Nope. They were in the cabinet."
"I mean, did you use your charge to purchase them?"
"Yes- He said I could get credit." she said, pointing to me. Finally- I could get in on this before she let the devil out of that bag.
"That's correct," I said, "We've already discussed this by phone earlier. Go ahead and process a credit and I will take these pieces to the dumpster before someone gets hurt."
"But I'll need to know which dishes it was to process the right amount for the credit," said the girl. The little man was still shaking his head, but had backed away from the counter.
We would have to open the bag.
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