ankle brace, part 2

i went back to the drugstore today to return the half-ass ankle brace i bought the other day.

got a parking space right in front of the store, and nobody was in line at customer service. not too much walking. it was my day.

the lady behind the counter watched me hobble over to her. i recounted the tale about the missing piece from the package. she nodded her head. she understood. she said she needed to call her manager to authorize the exchange.

the manager came out & made me walk all the way down to the other side of the store to his stupid counter to show him the package. he watched me limp my way over to him and maybe i'm projecting, but he looked annoyed that i was taking so long.

(HAVE I MENTIONED I HAVE A FUCKING SPRAINED ANKLE?)

he took a look at the package and agreed, it was definitely missing a piece.

this next part is just cruel.

he told me to walk over to that aisle to get a replacement.

(HAVE I MENTIONED I HAVE A FUCKING SPRAINED ANKLE?)

fine.

i went & grabbed another brace, checked to make sure both damn pieces were in the damn package and gimped on back to his counter. he took a look at the package, verified that yes, there were in fact TWO pieces in there.

then he fucking sent me back over to the customer service counter.

(HAVE I MENTIONED I HAVE A FUCKING SPRAINED ANKLE?)

i don't know who i hate more. the moron that stole half of the original ankle brace, or the manager at the store where i bought the damn thing.