Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,
Back in olden times when I had some money to spend, I visited a very chic shop in Maryland, where I tried on a beautiful pair of black velvet pants. They fit perfectly, so I went to the register to pay for them.
I knew there would be a problem as soon as I saw the woman working at the cash register. I had encountered her before. She was an older German lady with a very strong accent. I'm quite positive she was a member of the SS during World War II.
Magda was always perfectly dressed, coiffed, and nasty.
She looked down her Aryan nose at me as I presented her with the pants and my credit card.
She ran my card through the machine and shouted for everyone in the store to hear, IT ISSSSSSS DECLINED!
It can't possibly be declined, I said politely. I pay my bill every month.
Nevertheless, IT ISSSSS DECLINED! Magda screeched yet again.
I didn't know what to do. If I slinked out of the store with my tail between my legs, would it look as if my card really wasn't any good? Embarrassed, I dug my check book out of my purse and paid for the pants.
When I got home, I called my credit card company. The company representative told me immediately that my card shouldn't have been declined. Then she investigated to find out what was wrong.
It seemed Magda had put in the wrong code when she ran my card through the machine. She didn't know her very own code.
I called the store owner and told her how Magda had embarrassed me and what she had done wrong. She said, Believe me. I've heard if before. I'll have her call you to apologize.
Magda called and said immediately, I apologizzzzzze, but I don't know vy. I didn't do anything wrong.
I hung up and never went back to that store.
I don't know why Magda kept her job there, but perhaps she threatened the owner with whips and chains. Before long, the store went out of business.
What a shame that a nice shop seemed to be held hostage by one rude employee.
The good news is that I loved those pants. They were very comfortable, and I wore them for years.
Infinities of love,