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Mama’s retail rules
Sudie Crouch
One thing that can get my Mama up on her indignant high horse quicker than anything has always been customer service, or the lack thereof. Growing up, I learned to bristle anytime a retail clerk told Mama it was not their job or their department. She would make a sharp inhaling sound as she drew her hand up in the shape of C. “Do you see this C? It stands for customer. That is what I am. And the customer is always right!” The salesgirl would normally scurry off in search of someone in a higher pay scale to deal with the crazy redhead, as Mama stood her proverbial ground, Virginia Slim in hand. Mama pulled out the C once when we were shopping for a debutante ball gown.

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