Battle of the Women in Waterstone’s

I was in Waterstone’s the other day on Goodge Street buying a book (boring! I know) and this huge African woman who was obviously returning GCSE books started yelling at the short little woman at the counter, really having a go at her: 'I WANT a refund! Now!!' This woman didn't have the receipt right so she was only allowed to exchange the goods, which the Waterstone’s girl kindly told her. 'I don't CARE, I have RIGHTS, I want the refund, or, if I DO return, I do NOT want to have to explain myself to another member of staff, this little girl CANNOT by any means go to lunch!' By now the shop had silenced. I had had enough: I could not stand by and watch this unfold in front of me like everyone else was. I intervened. This poor little Waterstone’s woman had done absolutely nothing wrong-it was the shop’s policy to only exchange goods which were not accompanied with a receipt, and this huge, overbearing woman was not at all budging. I stepped in, despite behind two people behind in the cashier que: ‘excuse me, but you are being unfair. You need to calm things down a little bit, and look at the situation rationally.’ I said this with firmness, but without any animosity-we get trained as teachers to alleviate and diffuse situations where possible. She turned on me: ‘and WHO are YOU to tell me that young man?! WHO are YOU?’ I simply replied, ‘I am jus another person in the que. You are yelling at this woman who has been nothing but nice to you. She’s been decent enough not to yell back, and you are taking advantage of that. She has offered you an exchange, so if you go off, find some books of the same value of those books, and then return, that will be great.’ By now the Waterstone’s girl smiled; she felt supported in a store in which he staff had all seemed to disappear. The African woman was now in full throttle: ‘is that what YOU think? WHO are YOU to tell me to leave the que, and find new books? You’re just a student, with trainers!’ It was true: against my better judgment, I had worn trainers that day with denim jeans, when usually I would wear shoes, trousers, and a formal shirt. I clearly looked like a student, but I set her straight: ‘actually, I’m an English teacher, and not only do I teach all those books in your pile there, but I know that as kids are soon to sit their GCSEs, they are useless. I wholly understand your reason for returning them, but you need to make a decision on which books you want to exchange them for.’ I had tried to empathise with her. She retorted by yelling, ‘English teacher? I’m…a lecturer!’ She was clearly lying; she’d made that up on the spot. I was slightly annoyed now: ‘lecturer? I imagine you completed your doctoral research in rudeness and vulgarity? Leave the que so we can get on with our shopping. You are clearly a rude woman who wastes people’s time.’ She was fuming now. At this point the store manager emerged, and offered a African woman with a piece of paper which would allow her to find some books to exchange and return without having to explain herself, reiterating that no refund would be given without a receipt. She took it and stormed off. The African woman was fuming, while the Waterstone’s girl was smiling, happy she could go off to lunch, and the situation had been reversed from the way it had been at the start of the woman’s rant. I’d achieved my objective. Not bad for a few minutes in a Waterstone’s que. The girl therefore thanked me, ‘no problem, have a nice day.’ I went off home with my new books, which I am now reading.