It was the men’s section.
Quiet. Slower. Supposed to be less exhausting.
I was folding dress shirts again.
Selling leather jackets no one needed.
Charming strangers because that’s what a sales associate does —
You don’t sell products.
You sell the feeling that someone deserves to buy something they don’t need.
Then he came.
His name was Paul.
Filipino-looking, maybe mid-thirties.
Nice enough face. Forgettable enough energy.
He said he was looking for a jacket.
I smiled. I sold. I charmed.
I pulled out a $1,000 leather jacket — marked down to $600 — and made him feel like it was destiny.
At the cashier, protocol kicked in.
When a customer buys something, they’re asked:
"Who helped you today?"
To get credit for the sale, I said:
"My name’s Donna."
Routine. Professional. Standard.
But instead of answering the cashier,
he turned to me and said:
"My name’s Paul."
Like I cared.
Like this was a meet-cute.
Like we were two lonely souls finding each other over overpriced cowhide.
I smiled politely.
Internally, I rolled my eyes hard enough to sprain something.
Then he asked:
"What's your number?"
Not "Thanks for the help."
Not "Great jacket."
Just—straight for my personal life.
I wanted the benefit.
The sale counted toward my numbers.
The system taught me that charming the customer mattered more than protecting myself.
The customer is always right, right?
So I gave it to him.
Fast. Mechanical. Detached.
He left the store.
I blocked him before he even hit the parking lot.
Later, I told my manager.
She shrugged and said:
"It's okay. He wore the jacket out. He can’t return it."
As if the jacket was safer than I was.
As if wearing leather was the real point of no return —
not crossing my boundaries.
Not asking for my number without earning it.
Not making a sale feel like a transaction for me instead of a product.
The jacket had better policies protecting it than I did.
🚩 Red Flags He Carried Like Accessories:
Confused Good Service for Flirtation — Mistook professionalism for permission.
Weaponized Customer Culture — Used "the customer is always right" to push boundaries.
Ignored the Transaction — Buying a jacket wasn’t enough; he wanted access to me.
Fast Escalation — No conversation, just straight to personal information.
Bought an Item, Expected a Person — Predatory entitlement.
Left Me Feeling Like Merchandise — And smiled about it.
💡 What I Learned:
Good service is not an invitation.
A smile is not a yes.
Spending money doesn’t buy respect.
“The customer is always right” was never about my body, my time, or my dignity.
You bought a jacket, Paul.
Not a girlfriend.
Volume XII. Sealed.
Next.
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