I was in a rush to change out of my sewage-splashed clothes, but the sales associate blocked my way to the fitting room. "I'm so sorry, ma'am, but you can't try on a white blouse with makeup on. It would be a shame if you got foundation or lipstick on it." I frowned but understood the policy. "Fine. I'll just buy it, then. I'm in a hurry." She quickly snipped off the tag but then made no move to take my card. Losing my patience, I tried to grab the blouse to change, but she blocked me again. "I'm so sorry, ma'am, but you haven't paid yet!" I shoved my credit card in her face, my voice rising. "Well, maybe you could actually take my money, then?!" Her face remained a mask of professional courtesy. "I'm so sorry, ma'am, but I don't have the authorization to process payments. If you could please wait for about forty minutes…" … 1 While waiting at a red light, a speeding car hydroplaned through a puddle right at the crosswalk. I was standing at the very front. I took the full force of the splash. My white silk blouse was instantly a mess of splattered ink, and even the hair on the left side of my head was dripping. "What the hell!" "Jerk must be late for his own funeral!" "This is insane! Every time it rains, I get splashed at this intersection!" "Son of a… did anyone get the license plate? Let's report that bastard…" The other pedestrians who'd been hit started cursing a blue streak. My own blood was boiling. But my client's flight was about to land, and I was in a rush to get to the airport. I didn't have time to chase this down. Going home to change was out of the question. Luckily, there was a boutique just ahead. I walked over, dabbing at my hair with a tissue. I had barely stepped over the threshold when a young woman in a sharp black suit greeted me warmly. "Welcome, ma'am. My name is Angela, your personal sales consultant. How may I help you today? Would you like a recommendation—" "No, thanks. I'm in a hurry. I can manage on my own." Angela's smile tightened at being cut off. I paid her no mind, grabbing a white blouse off the rack and heading for the fitting room. But Angela stepped in front of me, blocking my path. "I'm so sorry, ma'am, but you can't try on a white blouse with makeup on. It would be a shame if you got foundation or lipstick on it." I frowned. "It's a button-down, not a pullover. It won't touch my face. Besides, I'm in a rush. If it fits, I'm wearing it out of the store. I'm not just trying it on for fun." "I'm afraid that's not possible, ma'am." Seriously? My first instinct was to turn and leave. But a quick glance around revealed… there were no other clothing stores nearby. As I hesitated, I met Angela's eyes. They held a hint of a smirk. "Ma'am, you're quite dirty, and your hair is still dripping. You'll definitely stain the new clothes if you go in like that. And if you came out and claimed the blouse was already dirty, well, I'd have no way to defend myself, would I?" The corner of her mouth twitched downward. The anger that had been simmering inside me all morning finally erupted. "Well, yeah! The only reason I'm here buying a new shirt is because mine got ruined! I'm trying to give you my business!" "And obviously, I'd clean myself up before I change, but first you have to let me into the fitting room! Or what, you want me to stick my hands up my shirt and wipe myself down in the middle of your store? You want me to strip right here? Huh?!" Angela just smiled, not saying a word, continuing to block my path. Furious, I threw the blouse down. "Okay, fine! I won't buy it. I'm leaving. Happy now?" "Wait…" Angela’s hand landed on my shoulder. I slapped it away instinctively. "Don't touch me! What is this, a hostage situation?" "Ma'am, you've misunderstood me. That's not what I meant…" "I don't care what you meant! Get out of my way!" I stormed out, pulling out my phone to call a cab. Suddenly, a hand gripped my wrist. Angela was blocking me again. "What is wrong with you?" I seethed, wrenching my arm free and turning to let her have it. But Angela let out a little cry and collapsed onto the floor. In her hand was a hairdryer. "You…" When she looked up, her face was a mask of tearful vulnerability. "Ma'am, you misunderstood. I was trying to tell you that we have towels and a hairdryer. You could dry your hair here first…" I froze. Angela scrambled to her feet and solicitously guided me to a chair, ready to blow-dry my hair herself. Snapping out of my daze, I quickly stopped her. "I'm so sorry, I completely misunderstood. I can do it myself." 2 The drone of the hairdryer couldn't drown out my embarrassment. Maybe I was just so on edge that everything seemed like an attack. I took a few deep breaths, silently calming myself down. Once my hair was dry, the mud on my blouse had hardened into an ugly cement-gray. I handed the hairdryer back to Angela, apologizing again for the misunderstanding, then picked up the blouse and headed for the fitting room. But once again, Angela grabbed my wrist. "I'm so sorry, ma'am, but store policy prohibits trying on white garments with makeup on." My heart sank, and my expression hardened. Angela seemed not to notice, continuing with a cheerful explanation. "It's a store rule, there's nothing I can do. This blouse is a hundred dollars. As a simple sales associate, I can't afford to take that risk. I hope you can understand." Fine. I exhaled slowly. For the sake of the hairdryer, I'd let it go. I pushed the blouse toward her. "Okay, I'll pay for it first. Can you please hurry? I'm in a rush." "Of course." Angela agreed sweetly, took the blouse, swiftly snipped the tag, and started to put it in a shopping bag. "Wait, don't bag it. I'm going to change into it now." "Of course." I raised my phone to scan the QR code for payment. A hand suddenly covered it. Angela smiled. "I'm so sorry, ma'am, that code is no longer in use. We're currently only accepting credit cards via the POS terminal." "...Fine." I pulled out my credit card and held it out. But Angela didn't take it. She just kept fiddling with the computer. A minute passed. "Is there a problem?" I asked. "Is your internet always this slow?" She gave a weak smile. "Yes, it can be a little sluggish." Two more minutes passed. Angela remained glued to the screen, the sound of her mouse clicking away like a time bomb in my head. I had run out of patience. I reached for the blouse. "You keep working on that, I'm just going to go change…" "You can't." Angela's hand shot out, pressing down on the blouse. She looked up, her eyes locking with mine. "I'm so sorry, ma'am. You haven't paid yet." A vein throbbed in my temple. I waved the credit card I'd been holding for the last five minutes. "Well, then maybe you could actually take my money?!" "I've been standing here this entire time with my card out! Am I the one who's not paying?!" Her voice remained infuriatingly calm. "If you could just be patient for a few more moments, ma'am." More frantic clicking. Fine. I'd wait. I watched the second hand on my watch go around, and around, and around. Finally, I snapped. I spun the computer monitor around to face me. "Let me see this. What kind of ancient computer and dial-up internet are you running that it takes this long to process a simple—" The moment I saw the screen, I almost choked on my own rage. It was covered in the classic, green-felt background of a game of Spider Solitaire. I stared at Angela, dumbfounded. "You've just been sitting here, clicking away, playing a game this whole time?! Are you messing with me?" Unfazed, Angela maintained her polite smile. "I do apologize, ma'am. I truly don't have the authorization to process payments. You'll have to wait for the store manager to return to assist you." 3 I almost laughed. "Are you insane? Or do you just not understand English? I keep telling you I'm in a hurry! If you can't take my payment, why didn't you say so from the beginning?" Angela looked wounded. "Well, you didn't ask…" Ha. This was absurd. I was the crazy one for even engaging with her this long. Angela continued her robotic soothing. "The manager will be back shortly. If you could please just wait a little longer. Would you like a cup of chamomile tea to calm your nerves? We also have lemon water, rosehip…" I glanced at my phone. "How long is 'shortly'?" "Hmm… if you could please wait for about forty minutes," she said with a bright smile. I turned and walked away. Angela scrambled out from behind the counter and grabbed my arm. "Wait! Ma'am, you can't leave! You haven't paid!" "I don't want the blouse anymore. Get off me." "No, the tag has been cut! You have to buy it!" I scoffed, pulled my arm free, and strode toward the door. "Don't you move! If you leave now, that's theft! I can call the police!" "Go ahead," I said with a sneer, grabbing the handle and pushing. Huh? It wouldn't budge. The glass door rattled in its frame but remained firmly shut. Angela was no longer in a hurry. She strolled leisurely up behind me. "I'm so sorry, ma'am. The tag on the blouse has been removed. You cannot leave the premises until payment has been made." Something inside me snapped. My God! It wasn't that I didn't want to pay! It was this psycho who wouldn't let me! "I must have been cursed to walk down this street and into this store…" I muttered, running a hand through my hair in frustration. Just as I was about to unleash a tirade, a flicker of movement in the corner of my eye caught my attention. Angela had darted a quick glance toward the upper right corner of the room. A faint red light glowed from a security camera. I paused. When I met Angela's dark eyes again, a chill shot up my spine. She was deliberately trying to provoke me. Perhaps disappointed that I hadn't exploded yet, she took two steps closer, her voice dripping with provocation. "You don't seem to be in that much of a rush. Surely forty minutes won't make a difference. Please, just be patient. The moment our manager returns, I promise you'll be the first person she helps." My voice was a little hoarse. "So, if I pay, you'll open the door and let me leave?" "Of course." I put my phone away and dug through my purse, pulling out a wad of cash from a birthday card. "Fine. The blouse is a hundred dollars, right? Here. Cash. You must be able to take cash. Now open the door and let me out!" But Angela just smiled and pushed the money back. "I'm afraid not, ma'am. I truly, truly do not have authorization to process any payments. Please don't make this difficult for me." Enraged, I threw the money at her. "What is wrong with you? I've given you the money! Why won't you let me go? What do you want?" Just as I suspected. The more agitated I became, the more triumphant she looked. She raised an eyebrow, her smile unwavering. "I'm so sorry, ma'am. Even with cash, you'll have to wait for the manager. For now, you cannot leave." I clenched my jaw. "So you don't have authorization to take my money, but you do have authorization to illegally detain me?" "Why have you locked the door? Why are you forcing me to wait for your manager? Are you doing this on purpose? Or… are you a human trafficker?" "What?" Angela's fake smile froze on her face. I feigned a sudden realization, dramatically knocking over a clothing rack. "That's it! It all makes sense now! You're traffickers, and this is your den! That's why you were stalling, making excuses, trying to keep me here! You're waiting for your accomplices to come and kidnap me! You monsters, where are you planning to sell me? How many other victims are there? I'm calling the police! I have to get out of here!" Angela stared at me, her face a mask of disbelief. "What are you talking about? Are you delusional? No, what are you doing?! Put down the fire extinguisher! Ma'am, stop—"
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