All she wanted was a dress for her son’s wedding.
But when a rude young clerk mocked her and snatched her phone, things spiraled fast.
Then the store owner appeared — and what she did next left everyone in the shop stunned.
At 58, I thought I’d seen it all. My husband passed three years ago, and I’ve been learning to navigate this world solo ever since.
But nothing — and I mean nothing — prepared me for what happened when I went shopping for my son Andrew’s wedding.
Two weeks. That’s all I had left before my only child walked down the aisle.
Can you believe I waited this long to find something to wear?
I kept putting it off, telling myself I had time.
But suddenly there I was, staring at my closet full of everyday clothes and wondering what on earth I was going to wear to the most important day of my son’s life.
“Time to treat yourself, Sandra,” I said to my reflection.
I headed to the mall to buy a new dress.
First stop: Nordstrom. Too formal.
The saleswoman kept pushing sequined numbers that would make me look like I was trying to upstage the bride.
Next: Macy’s. Everything felt too young or too old, with no middle ground.
The department store maze had me walking in circles, and the fluorescent lighting made everything look washed out.
I tried three more boutiques after that.
Just when I was ready to give up and wear something from my closet, I spotted one last store tucked between a cozy café and a jewelry kiosk.
The window display caught my eye immediately: mannequins wearing dresses with timeless grace, the kind of elegance that doesn’t scream for attention but commands it, anyway.
I started browsing the racks, running my fingers over fabrics that felt substantial and well-made.
Then a voice from the counter cut through the peaceful atmosphere like nails on a chalkboard.
“Oh my God, seriously?
She did NOT say that about me! What a—”
I turned in shock as a curse word echoed through the store.
The woman behind the register was in her early 20s. She didn’t even glance my way as she continued her phone conversation.
She dropped f-bombs every other word, completely oblivious to the fact that she was working in a business with customers present.
I tried to ignore it.
But when you’re trying to find something meaningful for your son’s wedding, you don’t expect to be serenaded by someone’s personal drama.
Then I saw a sky-blue dress with clean lines and just enough detail to feel special without being fussy.
Perfect for a mother of the groom!
I held it up to myself in the mirror and smiled. Finally.
Unfortunately, it was one size too small. I took the blue dress to the counter.
“Excuse me,” I said politely, “could I get this in a size ten, please?”
She let out this dramatic sigh, rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might fall out, and said into her phone, “I’ll call you back.
There’s another one here.”
Another one? Like I was some kind of pest instead of a paying customer.
“Excuse me,” I said, feeling my cheeks flush, “could you please be a bit more polite? And what exactly do you mean by ‘another one’?”
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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