I looked up and the affluent asshole was there. This happens a lot these days. I made my move from the ghetto about five years ago and now I'm in a place where millionaires can walk right up to me as I work. One thing I've learned here is that millionaires are quiet. People in the ghetto had ways of letting you know they were coming but quite often you can be concentrating on your work in a millionaire zone, look up, and one will have appeared like a ghost. Millionaires are sneaky.
"POTASSIUM PERMANGANATE!!!!!!!" said the millionaire. Which those of you familiar with the land of affluence know was a request to purchase some.
"I don't think we carry that here sir, you might try......"
"IT'S FOR ATHLETE'S FOOT!!!!!"
"I'm pretty sure we don't have it" At this point an assistant manager offered to help the man find out for sure if the stuff was in the store.
"YOU CAN'T HELP ME!!!! Snapped the South African accented millionaire to the African-American assistant manager, in a tone that was, historically, exactly what you would expect.
Back to me now. "ARE YOU SAYING YOU DON'T HAVE IT????" and for the third time I said I was pretty sure we didn't.
"IT WAS ON GOOGLE!!!!" he said. Obviously I needed to be reminded of the strict fact checking that takes place before something is allowed on the internet.
Now, its not that I'm mean or unprofessional, but I know better than to let this man know there were several clinically proven athlete's foot remedies in the aisle right behind him. It would have been improper for me to speak out of place to the millionaire, and believe me, I've been dealing with these people for awhile now, and I know they will let their foot rot off before they will admit that their effort to consult Dr. Google might not have given them the best result. I kept to my place in the social order and the man left with fungus living high on the hog between his toes with no end in sight. I was never asked what might work besides potassium permanganate, which, by the way, Google can also tell you where to buy.
Meanwhile, in the ghetto someone just said something to the effect of "YO!! DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS SHIT ON MY FOOT IS?" Whereupon the nice pharmacist led the man to the Lamisil, or Lotrimin, or Micatin, which cleared up the problem in a week or so.
I'd like to think of foot fungus as a fellow member of the 99 percent.