I'm Sorry Ma'am

A Short Story by Lauren Banks

I’m sorry, ma’am, but our refund policy only applies to official mall employees

Karen stormed through the crowd like a tornado, leaving a trail of devastation in her wake. None who encountered her left unscathed. She shoved past the other shoppers, brusquely pushing aside those who didn’t move fast enough. A herd of her “little angels” trailed

behind her, all four of the children whining and screaming and bumping into passersby.

Karen’s dark hair was cut in a short bob with blonde highlights. Her Mary Kay makeup was harsh and vibrant, doing little to hide the emerging wrinkles on her face. She held several shopping bags from a variety of stores – Target, Bath & Body Works, Michaels – likely the result of several devastated retail workers. Karen was trying to finish her Christmas shopping. She’d bought her friends matching shirts labeled “All I need is Wine & Jesus,” and picked up her mother’s favorite lotion scent. There were only a few more items left on her list.

Karen had told her children that this shopping trip wouldn’t be long, but the pathetic mall staff had been less than helpful, and Karen had been forced to meet with several managers to resolve her issues. The manager from Target had been the worst to deal with; he refused to provide any sort of discount despite the store not having the specific item Karen wanted. Apparently, she was expected to go online to finish her shopping? Didn’t the store realize how

inconvenient and annoying this would be? Karen preferred shopping in person. Retail workers these days were so inconsiderate and rude.

Karen was nearly done with her shopping when one of the little angels piped up: “Mommy! Easter Bunny! We need to take pictures! Please, please, please!”

The child pointed across the crowded hallway. There was indeed an Easter Bunny mascot wandering around the mall. In December.

The costume’s fur had likely once been white and fluffy, though now it was slightly off-color and matted. The person inside the suit was slouched, arms hanging limply at their sides as they slowly trudged through the bustling crowd.

Karen didn’t particularly want to get a picture with this rabbit. But her children had been behaving rather well today: the whining had been quieter than normal, and they’d only thrown a couple of tantrums. Now, however, they were all beginning to beg for pictures with the rabbit.

Karen supposed she could humor this one request. She stormed up to the mascot. “Excuse me, do you work for the mall?”

The rabbit turned to stare at her. “Uh. . . yeah. . . sure. . .” His voice was dull and monotone, barely audible through the thick mask of the costume.

“Fantastic. How much for a picture?”

“. . . 5 bucks?”

“Fine,” Karen huffed. She dug around in her massive Thirty-One purse for a moment, digging beneath tubes of makeup, clipped coupons, and her cheetah-print checkbook to pull out her wallet. “Do you have change for a 20?”

The rabbit shrugged. “The suit doesn’t have pockets.”

“What kind of business are you trying to run here? Not having any change for customers? We’re not doing this! Come along, kids.”

The children started to whine and complain. One stomped his feet, another latched onto her mother’s arm. “But mommy! You said we could!” the third child sobbed. The fourth child threw herself onto the floor and let out a loud wail.

Karen sighed. She really had a weak spot for her adorable children. “Fine, alright, whatever. We’ll just get four pictures then.” She gave the rabbit the $20 bill. “Where’s your

photographer?”

“Don’t have one.” The bunny seemed to stare at the bill for a moment before tucking it up his sleeve.

Karen pursed her lips. “Your set? Backdrop?”

“Don’t have one.”

“What kind of mall is this?! $5 for a picture with no backdrop, ridiculous!”

“Mommy, please!”

Karen sighed, rolling her eyes. “Fine. I’ll just take pictures right here.”

“Alright.”

Karen pulled out her phone. “Okay, kids, go stand by the Easter Bunny!”

“Michael.”

The uttering was so quiet, Karen wasn’t sure if she’d heard it at all. “Excuse me?” she demanded.

“Not the Easter Bunny. I’m Easter Michael.”

“Well, that’s just moronic.” Normally, Karen might have put up more of a fight, but she was feeling tired from the long shopping trip and just wanted this interaction to be over.

“Whatever. Kids, go stand by Easter Michael.”

The children all flocked towards the mascot, piling around him and grinning for the camera. Easter Michael just stood there, slightly slouched, arms at his sides.

Karen snapped a few photos. “Easter Michael, could you do a pose or something? Stop looking so boring?”

The rabbit shrugged. “. . . I don’t pose.”

“Hmm. I think I should get a discount then.”

“Discount?” Michael asked in a vaguely disinterested tone.

“Yes! No change, no backdrop, no photographer, and now you don’t pose! Ridiculous! How can you in good conscience sell this to respectable customers?! I deserve a discount!”

“. . . I don’t have change.”

“Then I want a full refund!”

“. . . no?”

“No?”

“You paid me. You got pictures. We’re done.” Easter Michael turned and walked away.

Karen glared at his matted, off-white back. How dare this pathetic rabbit take advantage of her and her family! She ignored his blatant unprofessionalism, yet he refused to show any

sort of decency as a businessman.

Karen whirled. She spotted a mall security guard, swaggering his way through the crowded hallway. Karen stormed up to him.

“I’d like to speak to your manager.”