Chapter revised 12/30/2019...

A/N: Rated T for alcohol use, mild suggestive themes, and some instances of dark thematics and humor. Coarse language is kept to a minimum, although I should warn you that there are explicit amounts of sarcasm. Brace yourself.

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The Customer Is (Not) Always Right

Chapter 1: The Bizarre Bazaar

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There he is. The Village Idiot. I would never call him that to his face, of course, or people would know what a horrible person I really am.

He sits on a stool at the Bazaar's bar, his love handles spilling out from underneath his ill-fitting shirt, a ratty ponytail trailing down the back of his thick neck. I could go on and on. I know nothing about him, other than he's here when I arrive in the morning and he's still here when I leave at night, wasting away at the bar. I don't blame him; I would probably be drowning my sorrows in pumpkin juice too if I had ended up with such an unfortunate appearance.

I catch my reflection in a nearby brass lamp and straighten my hat, squinting my eyes tight to hide how bloodshot they are. I smile wide and turn to greet the Village Idiot.

"Good morning, sir!" I trill happily, trying not to let my gaze wander to the greasy clump of chest hair sticking out of his shirt.

He lifts his head and gives me a blank stare, his eyes unfocused and dim. "Morning," he grunts, and returns to his plate of burnt scrambled eggs.

Still smiling, I tip my hat to him and continue down the Bazaar to prepare my shop for the day. If I can look this guy in the face without regurgitating my breakfast, I am ready to face anybody.

On the way to my shop I stroll past Gondo, who is tinkering with some invention of his in the Scrap Shop per the usual, and the bored girl who runs the Item Check. Her dead, lifeless eyes stare straight through me as I pass through her line of sight. Coming up on my left is Sparrot the fortuneteller. I avoid eye contact. I round the corner and...

No. No.

They're back. That loathsome couple that owns the Potion Shop across from me is back. They took leave for a few weeks because they just had a baby, and what a glorious few weeks those were. But now, Goddess forbid, here they are again, setting up their gigantic potion vats in a row along the far wall.

The wife has to be the most unattractive woman I have ever had the misfortune to lay eyes upon. No, really. I can see her mustache from all the way across the room. Her name is Luv, but I just call her Manhands. In my mind, anyway. Jammed in the back corner of the Potion Shop near the Fortune Teller's tent is her mousy little husband, Bertie. He's not such a bad guy in of himself, but I've seen what he mixes into those concoctions of his and it is not sanitary.

A reluctant sigh escapes my mouth. I suppose I should say hello. It's not as if I can just ignore them without being perceived as rude.

"Welcome back, friends!" I smile and wave to the couple merrily as I pass by them on the way in to my shop. "How nice it is to see you again." Not really.

The hefty Manhands drops whatever it is she's doing and turns to face me. "Oy, Rupee!" she shouts, motioning for me to come over. "Get over here! You gotta see the bay-bay!"

My lip twitches involuntarily. 'Rupee'? Since when were we on such friendly terms? "Oh, I'm sure I will sometime!" I say, because I totally want to throw away an afternoon at their house just to see her "bay-bay."

A gruff laugh erupts from her mouth. "No, silly! I meant right now!"

She points to her husband. Glowing with pride, Bertie turns around. And then I see it.

In a sling on Bertie's back is the ugliest baby I have ever seen in my life. It has a misshapen head, a turned-up nose, and I swear its eyelids are pointing in two different directions. Clutched in its grip is a large, clunky blue rattle that it's currently slobbering all over.

"Ahaa!" I exclaim, clasping my hands together. "What an adorable baby! What's its name?"

Bertie opens his mouth to speak, but Manhands cuts him off before he can utter a single word. "Oh, we haven't named her yet! But she's a girl!"

So I guessed right. Honestly, I couldn't tell for the life of me. "I thought so! My sincerest congratulations," I reply, smiling. Suddenly, the ridiculousness of this arrangement settles over my mind. Really? Who brings their infant child in to work? Who does that? Last I checked, it wasn't Bring-Your-Daughter-to-Work Day.

"Daww, look at her!" Manhands coos. "She just loves that wittle rattle of hers! Isn't she just the cutest—"

"Mm hmm," I say, nodding my head. I sneak a peek at the clock on the wall. 7:55. It is nearly opening time and I still haven't made preparations. Gradually, I begin inching back toward my storeroom, still facing the gibbering Manhands. As I drift further away, she projects her voice to make up for the distance. The Village Idiot can probably hear her all the way from the bar.

When I eventually reach the storeroom door, I unlock it and dart inside. I keep up a stream of generic commentary as I gather up my display gear and neatly arrange it across my counters, sprinkling the gaps in Manhands's drivel with conversational gems such as "mm hmm," "ah," and "I see." I smile and nod, smile and nod, feigning interest in what she has to say, but it's difficult to keep my eyes on her as I'm setting up. She seems to get annoyed every time I look down.

Once I'm done with opening preparations, I prop my elbows on the counter lean toward Manhands to catch a snatch of the conversation I haven't been participating in.

"—It's really interesting!"

It really doesn't sound it at all, I want to say. "Oh, I believe it!"

She opens her wide mouth to blather on, but the sound of approaching footsteps cuts her short. We both turn to see the doors have opened and customers have begun entering the Bazaar.

"Aye!" Manhands bellows, smacking her giant man hands together. "Potions! Potions! Get your potions here! Returning sale today only!"

A few people drift toward my shop tentatively, but then they take one look at her and hurriedly shuffle past. I have to stifle a groan. There she goes again. She's always clapping those big, knobby hands of hers like some kind of ape woman, trying to badger passerby into buying her potions. But all she's doing is frightening away potential customers. My potential customers.

She just doesn't get it! Attracting customers is a very delicate operation. You can't harass them before they've even had a chance to scope out what you have to offer. You have to hang back at first. Let your wares pique their curiosity and bring them in. Once you have them, then you harass them. I want to explain this to her, for my sake rather than hers, but I can't seem to figure a way to broach the subject lightly. Manhands is the type of person one must walk on eggshells around.

When all potential customers have emptied out of the immediate area, she waves at me to get my attention. Not being in a good place to pretend to ignore her, I oblige and look up. She picks up right where she left off with me and starts yammering about her baby again, but her words go in one ear and out the other. As I smile and nod, all I see are her fat lips smacking together in succession, spraying bits of saliva out into the walkway.

Suddenly, a flash of yellow to my left catches my eye. I turn to see a young man in a yellow knight's uniform making a beeline for my shop. A customer! The perfect excuse to abandon this one-sided conversation.

"Hello, my friend! Looking for something in particular?" I pipe up, for it is clear this young man is walking with a purpose.

"Hello!" the knight greets me, taking long strides up to the counter. "And yes, there is something..." He reaches over his shoulder and unhinges a wooden shield from his back, one of my craftsmanship. A deep crack runs down the shield's center, nearly cleaving it in half, and the wood is charred in places. Sometimes I wonder what people are doing with my shields.

For some reason, my eyes wander to Manhands. She's still talking. To me. Why is she still talking to me? I catch her eye and give her a gentle nod of dismissal, but she can't take a hint. She just keeps running her mouth. I turn my attention back to my customer.

"Ah, yes. I'm afraid this one has outlived its usefulness," I say, shaking my head at his broken shield sadly. "Wooden shields will break easily if they take too much abuse, not to mention the flammability. It's an unfortunate property of wood." Why won't this woman shut her trap? Can't she see I'm busy trying to help a customer? Is she blind?! Shut up, I scream at her internally, wishing there were some way to drill my thoughts into her mind. Shut up! "I take it you are looking to purchase a replacement?"

"No—well, yes," the customer stammers. "I was actually hoping to replace it with something a little more durable."

I smile a little wider at this. "Ah, then might I suggest purchasing an iron shield? It's a tad more expensive than the wooden one, but I assure you, the extra durability is well worth the cost if you can afford it!" I hunch my shoulders and bow my head ever so slightly. "Unfortunately, we don't have them in stock just yet, but I can put in a special order just for you and have it ready for pickup in less than twenty-four hours! For a small fee, that is."

The knight runs a hand over his floppy yellow cap, considering my offer. His eyes flick to the space on the counter where I usually display my metal shields, no doubt looking for a price label that doesn't exist. Any salesman who actually wants to make some money knows never to reveal his prices right off the bat. Meanwhile, Manhands is still talking at me from the other side of the room. I ignore her and focus my undivided attention on the customer in front of me. I know what's coming next, and I cannot risk losing him. Not when I have made it this far.

"What's the price for an iron shield?" he inquires, right on cue.

"Aha, yes! The price," I stutter modestly, as if it hadn't occurred to me until just now. "Including the express shipping fee, it can be yours for just 110 rupees! Shall I take your name down, friend?"

The corners of his mouth dip into a slight frown. Not a good sign. Just then, I notice an unusual silence stretching between here and the Potion Shop. In my periphery, I see Manhands casting dirty looks in my direction. What is the matter with this woman?

"It's a little expensive for me to afford right now," my customer says quietly, "but I really need to get a new shield as soon as possible. Can we haggle?"

I scan his features carefully, but I can detect no deceit behind them. I don't think he is trying to cheat me. "Yes of course, my friend. I am always willing to compromise," I tell him, dashing into the backroom. Sometimes when selling a big item like a shield, it's better to knock the price down just a little bit than to forfeit the sale completely. Of course, the customers only think they're getting a deal. I overprice all my wares to begin with so I still get my fair share. I grab a clipboard and an order form and return to the front of the store, quill poised at the ready. "What name shall I put you down as, friend?"

"Pipit," he replies.

"Alright, Pipit, I'll tell you what," I say, jotting down his name, "I'm willing to drop the shipping fee and knock a few rupees off the flat price, bringing your grand total down to 95—"

"You know, Gondo repairs shields!"

My mouth drops open. Simultaneously, Pipit and I both swivel our heads in Manhands's direction.

"He does?" Pipit asks, arching a pointy eyebrow.

"Yup!" Manhands beams. She leans forward, placing her hands on her hips. "Just bring that hunk of wood right on over to the Scrap Shop and he'll fix 'er on up for cheap!"

I gape at her in disbelief. Who does this woman think she is, sticking her oversized nose where it doesn't belong? Can't she mind her own business?! What was even in it for her? Nothing! That snipe didn't benefit her in any way whatsoever!

Suddenly my customer turns to look at me, and in that moment I realize my smile has fallen off my face and been replaced with a nasty scowl. I immediately revert to my cheery demeanor.

"Um...I'm just going to check the prices at the Scrap Shop," he says awkwardly, scratching at his spiky brown hair. "I might come back."

Yeah, right. It's loads cheaper to get a shield repaired at Gondo's than it is to purchase a replacement from me. "That's quite all right, my friend!" I assure him, waving him away as if it's no big deal. "Quite all-right! No matter what you decide to do, I wish you the utmost amount of satisfaction."

Returning my smile, the knight named Pipit thanks me for my time and strolls off toward the Scrap Shop. The gentle chink of rupees bouncing around in his wallet grows fainter and fainter with each of his steps, taunting me. In a flash of irritation, I shoot a poisonous look in Manhands's direction, but she isn't looking.

I heave a great sigh, letting the upper half of my body droop forward until my hands are almost touching the floor. I can tell it's going to be a very long day.

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A/N: It's the little things that make Legend of Zelda the masterpiece it is. And by little things, I mean minor characters! Seriously, you could pick any minor character from the series and write an entire freaking story about them, because y'know...characters from video games are totally more interesting than real people.

So, why Rupin? I guess out of all Skyward Sword's minor characters, he really stood out to me, and not just because he kind of looks like the Happy Mask Salesman. There's just something about this guy everybody can relate to, especially if you've had a taste of the wonderful world of customer service. As far as I know, no one has written any fanfics about him before, so this is the first. I chose to tell this story in first person because I can think of no better way to show what's going on in Rupin's inner and outer worlds at the same time. So there you have it.