Mall Shoppers

I got the idea for this story while working on the side of a fast-food counter you usually don't want to be. It spans 1477 words, so if you go blind from staring at the computer, its not my fault THIS time. I asked several friends questions about dialogue, so I hope its realistic.

Mall Shoppers

Two girls exited a mall beauty shop and joined the flow of people. Kristine swung her purse in rhythm with her walk and conversation.

“That’s only eight stores…and the mall is over a mile! How can you be hungry?”

Amanda, or Mandy as she preferred, blocked the sun coming through a skylight and the glitter around her eyes stopped sparkling. “We’ve been walking for hours, and you walk WAY too fast! This tile doesn’t help, either,” she stamped the floor gingerly, “and I’m getting sunburned from the skylight (it’s like a magnifying glass!), and the last store smelled funny, and my feet are sweaty (people can see ‘cause I’m wearing sandals!), and the clerk at the second from last place looked at me funny, and….”

Kristine glanced at a sign in the middle of the spacious hall, partly to study the map and partly so Mandy wouldn’t see her rolled eyes. She slipped through the flow of people, Mandy prattling on like a windmill. Kristine snapped gum and traced the map till she found what she was looking for.

“Will this work?”

Mandy braced herself with a bench beside the sign, and nodded till her brown hair bounced into her eyes.

Kristine slowed to Mandy’s pace as they trekked the mall. They took a wrong turn, but a fry aroma honed them in on target. The restaurant had one large ordering counter with napkin and straw dispensers neatly arranged along the front. Food was prepared on a stainless-steel counter where everyone could see. Two cashiers took orders, an old woman and a girl whose head barely reached topped the register. The line stretched into the mall.

“Try a free sample.” A pretzel salesman called and waved his product in a wide arc without bothering to stand.

“Can they take people’s orders any slower up there?” Mandy whined loud enough for the cashiers to hear.

Finally the girls stepped up to the counter and Kristine scanned the menu while Mandy charged the cashier.

“Are you guys always so slow?” she tapped her painted nails on the counter and tried staring the girl down.

The cashier wore a nametag with Shelly printed across it, and she rolled the back of her neck as though she couldn’t scratch. She leaned on her register and shifted weight from foot to foot as they shook her head.

“No, mam,” she mumbled, “sorry for the wait. Can I help?”

Mandy gave her order and wanted to know the cost. Shelly glanced turned and glanced up at the menu board.

“I know what’s up there.” Mandy said slowly so the cashier would understand, “How much is it going to cost after tax?”

Shelly hesitated, sighed, and punched “Total” on her register.

“$5.12”

Mandy’s eyes dilated, her jaw set and she leaned forward slightly, “That’s WAY too much! Let me re-say my order…”

Mandy changed her order three times, and each time Shelly called her manager to erase the last transaction.

“That’ll $4.99.” Shelly said in a hurry, glancing apologetically at her manager, “is that going to be it?”

Kristine finally decided what she wanted and ended by asking for a handful of barbecue sauce. The cashier dug into a tray and slapped some packets on the counter as she scrambled to get the drinks.

She glanced up as she scooped ice into cups, “That’s going to be about three minutes for fries…I’ll bring it out when it’s ready.”

“After all this time…” Mandy started, but someone tapped her shoulder. “Pastor Will! What’re you doing here?”

Pastor Will avoided the stream of the line and adjusted his hat, “Just handin’ out fliers to people for our church.”

Kristine plucked a straw from the dispenser and shot the wrapper across the room with a puff. “We could’ve helped!” she took her drink from Shelly and snatched a handful of napkins from the napkin holder.

“Ah well…” Will scratched stubble under his chin and shuffled his feet, “not many people seem interested …did you know Mrs. Wilson works here?”

The girls stepped out of line with their drinks, “No….” Kristine thought aloud, “Where is she?...That’s her on the other register!”

“Yup.” Will waved to the girls and handed a flier to the nearest person in line.

Tables lined the walls with flower vases on top, and Kristine picked one of these. She collected two handfuls of ketchup, salt, pepper and a sugar packet from the condiment stand opposite the ordering counter, and spread them on her tabletop. She flopped down so she faced the mall. Mandy complained to the manager about the waiting.

Kristine concentrated on her barbecue packets as a Goth strode into the store. The line had died, and the man’s chains and earrings clinked as he strode directly to the counter. He brushed scarlet-streaked hair back, pulled up his pants by the spikes in his belt, and placed his clasped hands on the counter.

Mandy’s complaining ceased abruptly and she took a seat across Kristine.

“Yikes!” she whispered with her back to the man, “Ya’ gotta feel bad for that register person...I’m glad Mrs. Wilson didn’t have to take his order.”

“I like your sandals,” Kristine commented as she tapped a ketchup packet.

That sparked a conversation that twisted and turned at will, starting with Mandy’s sandals and ending with their youth group’s last camp.

Shelly rushed out minutes later clutching a bag. She navigated the dining room, barely avoiding three people as they scooted out, and plopped the bag on their table.

“Are ya’ all going to need anything?” she wiped her face on her sleeve as Mandy and Kristine tore the bag.

“We didn’t want it in a bag,” Mandy rolled her eyes and didn’t look at Shelly, “but that’s fine, I guess.”

Shelly spun on her heels and asked some customers how they were doing.

Kristine tore salt, pepper and sugar packets and laid the bag out. She squeezed so much ketchup and barbecue on it seeped through the paper and looked like thick gravy.

“You put sugar on your sandwiches?” Mandy wrinkled her nose and tapped her salt pack once over her fries.

“Yeah, it’s weird but I like it. Hey! You want to see something funny?” Kristine whispered.

She pounded a ketchup packet and it squirted up the wall and reached the ceiling. “Oh! That’s awful!” Mandy giggled around the hand over her mouth. The girls tittered for over twenty minutes and soon everyone left. Shelly busied herself with wiping tables and chairs.

Mandy glanced over her shoulder and exhaled, “That Gothic guy is gone. Did you see his wrists when he put them on the counter? All bandaged up! I’d probably come to the mall more if,” she removed her lid and waved her cup at Shelly, “there weren’t so many weird people.”

Shelly stopped working, took the cup and returned with a refill. Wordlessly she resumed work on the opposite side of the dining room. Mrs. Wilson wiped the ordering counter and the manager scraped the inside of the fry-henny, careful not to touch the liquid within.

Shelly ran her towel over a tabletop and knocked a vase into thin air. She dove for it, but it shattered on the tile.

“Whoops!” Mandy called through cuffed hands.

Shelly bit her lip. Tears sparkled in her eyes as she glanced at Mrs. Wilson and her manager.

“Clean it up and grab a new one.” The manager’s cheeks flushed and she shook her head without glancing sideways.

“It happens all the time, sweaty,” Mrs. Wilson called as Shelly darted through a door into the restaurant’s back area.

The shopper’s chairs scraped the tile as they stood and stretched. “Don’t bother with the mess,” Kristine sipped her drink and shook the ice, “someone’ll come around.”

“We need to say ‘hi’ to Mrs. Wilson before we leave…”

“It’s too late for that, Mandy.”

Mrs. Wilson’s grey hair was pinned back, and her thin features hardened. She crossed her arms and her green eyes flashed. It seemed a miracle words slipped between her pursed lips.

“Mrs. Wilson!” Kristine hugged the frail woman, “you look so different with your uniform.”

“That girl knows exactly who you two are!” Mrs. Wilson exclaimed as she recoiled with her arms still crossed, “She knows what to expect from Christians! She’s gone through a lot, and I just persuaded her to give church a try. You made her life hell without even thinking about it, like it was natural for you.”

Mrs. Wilson let her words sink in, and continued in her normal tone, “That Goth came though, the one you two were talking about so loudly, and he didn’t try intimidating anyone, sat down, ate, and cleaned up after himself a bit. Shelly asked how much it hurt to cut…

“You’re a customer and entitled to 100% service, but as Christians you missed a great opportunity.”