Retail therapy

The shop floor was slightly too warm and the music slightly too loud when the old lady collapsed in the Accessories section. She was right beside the sofas, low dimpled velvet logs where people tried on shoes, and Saorise wondered why she hadn’t just sat down on one if she was feeling unwell.

Rachel, assistant manager, ran to the woman with a look of concern that only broke when she scowled at Saoirse for not moving from behind the tills.

‘Oh my god! Oh my god, are you okay?’

The elderly woman lay like a puddle on the floor. Only her face and one hand were visible, the rest of her enveloped in loose, billowing clothes. She looked peaceful with her eyes closed, as though taking a nap.

She moaned gently when Rachel shook her shoulder.

‘Saorise, for fuck’s sake. There’s a customer down, get the IV,’

‘Grab this in a size 14 while you’re back there, this 12’s goin’ nowhere,’ Lisa called over from the fitting rooms as she struggled to zip up a dress on a young customer. The teenager fumed, scarlet in the face, and clearly mortified to have her failure to fit into the dress broadcast across the room, roughly slapped Lisa’s hands away.

‘Fuck OFF,’ she screamed, spittle flying at Lisa’s blandly smiling face.

Saoirse considered reminding Lisa and Rachel that they’d told her multiple times not to leave the till unattended after someone stole — not cash — but their label puncher last month.

‘It’s even worse than stealing cash,’ Lisa had gasped, ‘They could stab us with that label gun’.

It was a strange conclusion to come to about the situation and it played on repeat in Saoirse’s mind. She wondered if the customer would use the label puncher to tag them.

DAMAGED ITEM! Sale price reflects condition!

Customers became something to fear, a force that wanted to harm her by any means necessary. She eyed the steamer with a new sense of distrust, wondering what torturous schemes a customer might put into play if they got their hands on it. She stared down anyone who looked like they might be thinking about manipulating the wire hangers into something more sinister.

‘Saoirse, get ta fuck?’ Rachel hissed.

Stools were banned from the tills after a customer complained that it took too long for ‘the girls’ to stand up and help her with her bags when she said she needed help getting to the car. The stock room meant Saoirse could sit for a moment, so she decided not to mention their previous instruction, nodded silently, and slipped around the counter.

Once behind the first row of loomingly tall metal shelves that held stock, she dug out the IV rig and sanitised and replaced the parts that needed it. After a quick glance to ensure Lisa and Rachel hadn’t followed her, she lay down on a pile of new dresses. They’d been partially unpacked, and the bits that weren’t wrapped in plastic had diamante studs that dug into Saoirse’s temple and cheek.

It was only October, but in retail that’s considered well into the Christmas period, and she’d been working 12 hour shifts back-to-back. Staff were ‘gently encouraged’ to wear the latest pieces each month. She unbuttoned the too-tight skirt that was pinching the flesh at her waist and kicked off her stiff vegan-leather heels. Her feet cramped and spasmed as she stretched her toes. She took a deep breath and choked on the smell of the fabric freshener they sprayed on all new arrivals. She counted to 30, then back down to zero, squeezed her eyes shut, and screamed. A short, sharp release, lasting no more than a second.

She sat up, brushed her makeup off the dress she’d used as a pillow, and pulled her shoes back over her raw, weeping toes.

She hung the size 14 dress on the IV stand and, with a gentle nudge of her hip, rolled the setup onto the shop floor.

‘There’s no packs in the fridge, Rach. The delivery’s not til two,’ Saoirse called out as she handed the dress to Lisa who was still smiling sedately while being screamed at by the half-dressed teen.

‘Well, she’s not going to last til two. C’mon, roll your sleeves up,’

‘Ah Christ, Rachel, not me again. I just drained on Friday when the last batch of bags ran out,’

Rachel narrowed her eyes and cocked her head.

‘So what exactly would you suggest, Saoirse? Should we just leave this poor woman here when you could easily help her? That’s not a very customer-first attitude, Saoirse,’

Rachel always repeated people’s names when she was really pissed. Probably something she’d read in a book about asserting her dominance. It was almost always Saoirse’s name.

Saoirse sighed and rolled up her polyester satin sleeve, offering her arm to Rachel as she knelt beside the unconscious woman.

‘Other arm,’ Rachel demanded. Saoirse’s right arm had a large bruise and inflamed puncture site from the last session. She nodded in agreement and offered her left instead.

Rachel expertly inserted one cannula into Saoirse’s arm and another into the old lady’s exposed wrist. To each cannula, she attached a tube, then attached each tube to the pump. With the flip of a switch, Saoirse was being drained. After a moment, Rachel flipped another switch, and the old lady was receiving.

There was a moment of silence on the shop floor as their Christmas playlist finished. Rachel checked the pump, approvingly tapping the various gauges. Saoirse draped herself across the velvet baguette couch, already feeling what little energy she had seeping from her. The old lady stirred in her silk cocoon, eyes still closed but some colour returning to her face.

The teen stormed out of the changing room. She flung both dresses at Lisa and pushed her against the wall.

‘No wonder you’re just a shop assistant, and you can’t even do that right,’ she spat, then flew through the shop in a rage, kicking over a mannequin on her way out.

‘Have a lovely day!’ Rachel called after her, beaming.

Saoirse’s eyes drooped and she slid further down on the floor. The deeper she slouched, the straighter the old woman sat up, looking around in confusion.

‘You take your time pet,’ Rachel patted her shoulder gently, then spun abruptly to glare at Lisa, whose hair had gotten tangled in the zip of one of the items thrown at her. Her eyes watered as she tried to yank it out.

‘Lisa, that young one was a very good customer. A regular. What did you do to upset her? Lisa? Didn’t seem very customer-first,’

Saoirse wanted to ask the old lady not to listen, not to take her time, because time felt like it was running out, and she didn’t know how much longer she’d be able to drain, but, though the words fell from her lips, they landed nowhere. She pleaded in the softest of whispers, drowned out by the playlist that had just restarted for the third time that day.