I just came back from the drugstore. Not just any drugstore mind you, but the Cartier of druggists…Zitomer’s of Madison Avenue.
I’ve had a charge there for over twenty-five years establishing credit rivaling an Astor, who I hear didn’t always pay their bills on time.
Why there and not a more economical pharmacy like CVS or Walgreens?
Convenience. There was a time money was no object to this thin girl, so what if everything was ten times the price….big deal.
It’s also across from the Carlyle, so need I say more?
When I ventured in to actually return something Bed Bath and Beyond had for a third of the price, I was wearing my new Joe Fresh 16 dollar canvass slip-ons not realizing I was bleeding through my beige heel as I tooled down Mad.
I immediately went to the pharmacy to ask for a Band-Aid since now I was also in pain the skin ripping right off like a seared chicken leg. The young man behind the counter I’ve dealt with a thousand times asked, “Is is it a blister…a cut?”
“I’m wearing new shoes and they’re cutting across the heel.”
He comes back with a variety of Band-Aids starting at 10 bucks.
“Excuse me, but I was hoping you’d have one to give me, like if you got cut.”
Well, if looks could kill from this snarky little shit, I would have to have my foot amputated.
“So if you have an accident of any kind, what do you do? Is there no first aid kit?”
“No, I’d have to buy what I need, same as you.”
Breathe Susannah, breathe. He was clearly raised by wolves then rented out to coyotes. Do not take his rudeness and lack of courtesy personally.
Yeah well, that looks great on paper.
“You know, you’re a little shit who should be ashamed of himself,” I said, before turning on my bleeding heel. “Haven’t you ever heard of helping someone in need?”
He sneered then walked away.
As I was leaving the woman manning the candy counter I frequent quite often said, “Oh, Miss, did you know you are bleeding?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact I do.”
“Wait, I have Band-aid in purse.”
See, she was raised by angels.