An Unlocked Mind (Secrets #2)(2)

Mr. Peterson crossed his arms on the desk and leveled a steady gaze at Rob. “You should have attempted to answer her questions at least.”

Shit. Apparently not one of those times.

Rob stared at him. “How could I? She’s asking about wine pairings and sauces to go with her gluten-free pasta. I don’t know the answer to those things.”

“Then at the very least you should have told her to give you a moment to check. Now? She’s going to be angry that you didn’t know, plus she’s likely to be more upset for having to wait.”

“I was honest with her,” Rob protested. “How can she expect me to know details like that about every product we sell? Don’t you think that’s unreasonable?”

Mr. Peterson arched his eyebrows. “She had no way of knowing your status here. For all she knew, you could have been the manager of that department. And what you should have done is excused yourself and gone to fetch the manager of that department, or come and spoken with me.”

Rob wanted to scream. “But I did come to speak to you.” They were going in circles, and all the while, that old bitch was probably growing more and more irate.

Mr. Peterson stood and moved the papers he’d been working on into a folder. “Well, let’s go and see if we can smooth things over, shall we?” He made his way to the door, then turned back. “Both of us, Rob. You can use a bit more training on how to deal with people.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

A deep sigh, a dip of the chin, and Rob trailed after his manager.

The bitter old hag was still standing there, looking at her watch. When Mr. Peterson approached her, she put her hands on her hips and pursed her lips.

“I have to say, this store has really gone downhill. I’ve never had to wait five minutes to speak with someone before. This is just not acceptable.”

“My apologies, madam,” Mr. Peterson said in a steady voice. “I was on the phone when Rob came in, and I just now finished up the call.”

She grunted, and then her gaze flicked to Rob. “I don’t like this young man’s attitude. I asked him questions about pasta, and he refused to answer me.”

“I didn’t—” Rob began, but he stopped when Mr. Peterson held up a hand.

“I do apologize for Rob. He’s new here and doesn’t know everything about the store just yet.” He spoke smoothly, confidently, his apologetic tone evident.

“Then maybe he should have received better training,” she barked. “He obviously wasn’t ready to be dealing with the public, and it seems to me that it’s your fault he’s out here in the first place. When I come here, I expect to have all my questions answered promptly and courteously. This time I received neither. Unless you do something about this, I’m going to be phoning your manager when I get home.”

Mr. Peterson’s cheeks pinked slightly. “You don’t have to worry,” he said. “I’ll be dealing with the problem directly.”

She wagged a finger in Mr. Peterson’s face. “See that you do,” she snapped. The woman crossed her arms and shot Rob a smug look before she turned and stomped off.

Mr. Peterson stared after her. “Rob….”

“I didn’t do anything,” Rob protested, though he knew it wouldn’t do him any good, of course.

His boss turned and gave a weak smile. “I know, but we have to keep the customers happy. Would it kill you to be a little friendlier to them?” His smile did little to take the edge off his words.

Anger welled up inside Rob, but he bit his cheek to keep from lashing out. “She asked me to help her and I did. What else was I expected to do? Open the box and eat the pasta for her too? I don’t know the products. I offered to get someone else to help her, but that wasn’t good enough.”

People hurried past them, shop assistants and customers alike, but Rob didn’t care if they felt uncomfortable. He was about to be punished unfairly for doing his job to the best of his ability.

“I understand that, but in her mind, she’s made a legitimate complaint.”

“Legitimate?” Rob ground out. “Tell me, then. How should I have handled it? Because I don’t see where I did anything wrong.” His stomach churned and his palms were clammy. This is all fucked-up.

His boss wiped a hand over the back of his balding head. “Why don’t you take a couple days off? Give this some time to blow over. Come back on Monday, and we’ll be okay again. If management asks, I can tell them the situation was handled, and that will be the end of it.”

“You’re… suspending me?” Rob bit the inside of his cheek to keep from shouting.

“No,” Mr. Peterson assured him, his voice soothing once more. “This won’t appear on your record. We’ll just give you a few days off to, you know, relax.”

A few days off? His finances were already stretched razor-thin. There wasn’t any way he could afford to lose more than two days’ worth of pay. “But—”

“It’s for the best, Rob. Go ahead and punch out. Come back on Monday, and we’ll put this behind us.”

Rob ground his teeth as he stormed away from Mr. Peterson. He went into the back of the supermarket, jerked the apron over his head, and tossed it to the floor.

“This is bullshit,” he grumbled. “I didn’t do a bloody thing wrong.”