Chapter 2: The Outlet Mall and the Long Walk Back
The drive from downtown Portland to the Beaverton outlet mall took 45 minutes in rush-hour traffic, but Lila left at 8:15 AM the next day, her car crawling along I-5, her hands shaking so badly that she had to pull over to the side of the road to take a deep breath. She’d spent the night tossing and turning, replaying the footage from the tablet over and over in her head, replaying her own sharp words to Margaret Hale, her own cruel laugh. She’d never thought she’d won that day, and now she was going to be cleaning racks and folding t-shirts at the outlet mall, no commission, no benefits, no chance of keeping her $75,000 a year salary. She’d been making $21 an hour plus commission, and now she’d be making $15 an hour, no commission, no chance of making the tips from luxury fashion sales.
She pulled into the parking lot of the outlet mall at 8:58 AM, her car still shaking, and she walked into the store, her head down, her eyes avoiding the other sales associates who stared at her as she walked to the back room to pick up a mop and a stack of t-shirts. The manager, a man named Tom who’d worked at the outlet mall for 10 years, handed her a list of tasks: restock the racks of clearance dresses, fold the stacks of t-shirts, clean the floors, and apologize to every customer who walked through the door.
“Lila?” Tom said, his voice cold. “The board told me you’re here for six months. Don’t mess this morning. You’ll be monitored by hidden cameras in every corner of the store. Don’t skip any tasks. If you do, you’re fired immediately.”
Lila nodded, her throat tight, and she picked up the mop, and she started mopping the floors, her hands shaking so badly that she spilled a puddle of water spread across the tile. A woman walked over to her, her name tag reading Mia, and she stared at Lila. “What are you doing here? You used to work at the boutique downtown. You’re one of the top sales associates there. What happened?”
Lila’s face turned red, and she looked down at the mop. “I... I messed up. I messed up with a customer. I’m here for six months to make it right.”
Mia nodded, and she walked over to the rack of clearance dresses, and she pulled a stack of t-shirts. “I heard about the hidden cameras. The board has been using them for a year now. They caught three sales associates last year. They all ended up working here. Don’t mess up again.”
Lila’s mind raced. She’d never thought the hidden cameras were real, but now she knew they were watching her every move. She’d thought the outlet mall, and she spent the next three hours mopping the floors, folding t-shirts, restocking the racks, and she avoided every customer who walked through the door, her head down, her voice soft and polite. A man walked over to her, and she smiled, her voice warm and friendly, and she helped him pick out a $20 t-shirt, and she apologized when he dropped it on the floor, and she helped him find the right size. He paid for a stack of t-shirts.
By noon, she was exhausted, her back aching, her feet sore from her stilettos that she’d worn to work, even though the manager had told her to wear comfortable shoes. She walked over to the break room at 12:30 PM, and she sat down at a table, and she pulled out a sandwich from her lunchbox, and she stared at her phone, checking for any notifications from the boutique downtown, but there were none. She’d been fired from the boutique, and she’d lost her chance to make the money she needed to pay her rent. She’d lost her chance to go to Paris next month, the trip she’d been planning for six months, the trip she’d saved up for to buy a new wardrobe for the boutique’s annual fashion show.
She looked up at the clock, and she saw that it was 1:00 PM, and she walked back out to the floor, and she started folding t-shirts again, her hands shaking a little. A woman walked over to her, and she stared at Lila, and she asked for a size small t-shirt, and Lila walked over to the rack, and she pulled a size small, and she handed it to her, and the woman paid for it, and she walked out of the store, and Lila smiled, her voice warm and friendly, and she felt a little better. She’d helped a customer, and she’d made a sale, even if it was just a $15 t-shirt.
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By 5:00 PM, the manager called her over to the front desk, and he handed her a piece of paper with a note from the board. “You did okay today,” he said. “Don’t mess up tomorrow. You’ll be working the fitting rooms, and you’ll have to apologize to every customer who comes in. Don’t make them feel welcome, no matter what they look like.”
Lila nodded, and she walked out of the store, her head down, and she drove back to her apartment, her mind racing. She’d made it through her first day at the outlet mall, but she had five more months to go, and she had to make sure she didn’t mess up again. She walked into her apartment, and she collapsed on her couch, and she pulled out her laptop, and she looked up the address of the boutique downtown, and she saw that the post about the hidden cameras, and she felt sick to her stomach. She’d never thought she’d be working at the outlet mall, but now she was, and she had to make sure she didn’t mess up again.
