So yesterday I was at the mall. Because, ya know, I work there. And this lady comes into the store. Suzie greeted her. Blah blah retail blah. I dust. The next thing ya know, crazy momma is all, “Have you seen my daughter?”
Um, no. You have a daughter?
Crazy momma: Did she come into the store with me?
Suzie: Yeah, but I think she went back out.
*In my head: Shouldn’t you know that?*
CM: Oh my goodness! Mary Alice!
Suzie and I look at each other.
CM: (now in mall hallway) MARY ALICE! Have you seen my daughter? MARY ALICE!!
Customers in surrounding stores stand in doorways and stare.
CM: Have you seen my daughter? She has brown hair, and a feathery black bow in her hair and red hoop earrings. . .she’s 13. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, HELP ME! MAARYYY ALIIICE!
*In everyones’ heads: She’s THIRTEEN? And you’re freaking out THIS much?*
Boss-lady: Is there something wrong with her kid?
CM: LOCK DOWN THE MALL! MY DAUGHTER IS MISSING! MARY ALICE.
Some kind sucker sits crazy momma on the bench and tries to calm her down. The result:
CM: WHY DOESN’T SOMEBODY CALL THE POLICE? MY DAUGHTER IS MISSING!
Right about now, I decide to call the customer service desk to ask for a security guard. Conveniently enough, one just cruised up on his segway. Yes, the mall cops drive segways. I like to think of them as glorified tricycles. I raced one today (in my head, again), but the poor sucker lost. And I’m short.
But I digress.
CM: MAAAAARYYY AAAALIIIIICE.
At this point, I’m pretty sure Mary Alice is cowering behind a potted plant somewhere, because she’s 13 and her mother is having a mental breakdown in the middle of the mall. If I was Mary Alice, I would never come home again.
But apparently Mary Alice is not as easily embarrassed as your average 13-year-old, or is easily intimidated by mall-cops, and returned soon after Bobby the tricycle cop arrived.
And life at the suburban shopping mecca continued as before.