“Nice pair,” said the checkout boy.
The customer gasped. “How dare you? That’s completely inappropriate. I came here to shop; I don’t expect to be drooled over by an employee who is at least half my age. Disgusting. I want to speak to your manager immediately. What a rude young man.”
The checkout boy pointed to the produce in her basket. “I meant your fruit. The pear? Looks good. They’ve just come into season, right?”
The checkout boy smiled. “Sorry if I caused offence.”
The customer blushed. “No. None at all.”
He scanned the goods while she packed, both of them silent.
“That’ll be £39.58,” he said.
She paid quickly without looking him in the eye, gathered her bags into her trolley, and said her goodbye.
“Have a nice day,” he said.
She paused and finally looked at him. “So you really weren’t complimenting my…”
He frowned. “Your…”
She glanced at her chest.
“Of course not,” he said. “Really. I would never!”
He reddened and waited for her to leave, but she wouldn’t.
“You know, I wouldn’t really have reported you to your manager,” she said quietly, leaning toward him. “I mean, if you did happen to have an opinion on my pair.”
His eyes widened and he focused very hard on looking at her face and her face only. “Thank you, have a nice day.”
Her face turned sour, she straightened up and marched away. “What a rude young man.”