Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
The customers seemed to be together, shopping for shoes, and only one employee was helping them. That left two to assist Cammie, but neither approached her.
Stepping to the left, she saw gowns that would be good for a black-tie event. The options were overwhelming, but when she glanced at the two unoccupied employees, they were chatting with each other as if there wasn’t a customer in the store in need of assistance. She focused on her personal taste. She tended to like brighter colors, so she gravitated toward the pink and red dresses, not letting herself look at the price tags. Without a doubt, everything in the store was outrageously expensive.
She didn’t have much experience choosing dresses that would complement her body, but she needed something that would look good with a bra. Her chest was too large to go without one. That meant no strapless gowns, thin straps or one shoulder choices. Given it was winter, long-sleeved would be nice, but she didn’t want to look too conservative.
All these thoughts ran through her head as she looked through the dresses until she gave up. She’d just have to ask the women whose job it was to know the inventory inside and out for help.
Glancing over again, she noted that one of them was taking a phone call while the other was straightening a table of cashmere sweaters that were already perfectly neat.
She walked to the salesperson and gave her a friendly smile. “Excuse me, I was wondering if I could get some help choosing an evening gown?”
The woman, wearing a black dress and what appeared to be a diamond necklace, gave Cammie the once-over without bothering to hide her disdain. She might be wearing her normal, everyday outfit of jeans and a cozy sweater, but she didn’t deserve to be looked at like she was a bug on the bottom of this woman’s thousand-dollar shoe.
“Are you sure that you want a gown? Do you have a reason to wear one?” the salesperson asked in a patronizing tone.
Cammie straightened her shoulders. “Of course, I do. I have a Christmas party to attend.”
The woman’s smile was slow and vicious as she turned up her red lips. “Oh, honey. You probably need an ugly Christmas sweater or something. Isn’t that what people like you usually wear to Christmas parties?”
By that, Cammie assumed she meant poor people. Cammie didn’t consider herself poor, but she definitely lived paycheck to paycheck, and she couldn’t afford this store in a million years if Leo wasn’t paying for it. But that didn’t mean that this woman could treat her so badly.
Cammie glanced at her nametag. “Rest assured, Patricia, I know what I need. Now, can you assist me?”
“The gowns are over there,” she said with a dismissive flick of her wrist. “Just make sure your hands are clean before you touch them. I don’t want anything transferred onto that expensive fabric.”
Cammie’s mouth opened wide and she was so shocked, she was unable to form a response. She’d worked at the coffee shop for a few years, and had dealt with many rude people but she’d never had someone be so blatantly hateful or dismissive like this.
“I-I want to speak to your boss,” she stammered, not wanting to allow this bitch to steamroll her.
“You’re speaking to her,” Patricia said, voice full of pride. “I own this boutique.”
This woman was the owner? What kind of businessperson treated a customer this way?
The door of the boutique opened, and another woman walked in. One look and she obviously had money. Everything she wore appeared luxurious and designer. Dress, bag, sunglasses.
Patricia turned away from Cammie and a genuine smile stretched across her face as she hurried to greet the new customer.
As Cammie watched the boutique owner, who had just been so hateful to her, fawn over the new customer and lead her over to a dressing room with promises of making sure she got everything she needed, including the VIP treatment, her stomach churned.
Without another word, Cammie left the boutique.
She’d never felt smaller, and by the time she walked into her apartment shame washed over her for letting that woman treat her like dirt. She’d been so caught off-guard by Patricia’s rudeness that she hadn’t stood up for herself.
Worse, she was supposed to see Leo later tonight. But hours later, she was still mortified and couldn’t face him. He already knew she’d planned to go dress shopping, and she couldn’t stand the idea of him asking how her day went and having to admit she’d been treated like trash.
Her feelings were mixed. A part of her didn’t like pointing out that someone thought she wasn’t good enough to shop where he’d sent her. He obviously knew she was a barista, and he’d seen where she lived, but the difference in their socio-economic status hadn’t been an issue so far. There was a part of her that feared this vast gap would eventually drive him away.