You Just Got Served
“I was just at a gas station, pumping gas, when the lady at the pump across from me stuck her head around and, in very broken English, asked if I can help her for a second. I speak a bit of Spanish, so I replied in kind. She said that she was having a problem with the credit card reader. I went over to see. She put her card in backwards and it became stuck. Easily enough, I got it out for her, showed her how to put it in the right way, she thanks me. I headed back to my Jeep and started to put the pump back, only to find some woman blocking the door.
‘It took you long enough,’ she said. ‘I’ve waited five minutes already. Hurry up and pump my gas.’
I look over. Sure enough, she had an Oregon license plate.
‘Sorry miss,’ I began to explain, ‘in Washington, we pump our own gas. If you need help, go into the store and talk to somebody that works here.’
Well, she lost her mind.
‘What the heck?’ she screamed at me. ‘You won’t help me because I speak English? You freaking loser! Go pump my gas or I’m going to get you fired.’
‘OK, miss. You’re right,’ I replied. ‘I’m sorry. Head back to your car and I’ll be with you in a moment.’
The thought did cross my mind of taking her credit card and seeing how far I could throw it. Instead, I just jumped into my car and took off. The look on her face when I started my Jeep up was hilarious.”
“As a grown woman, I am shy, anxious, hate confrontation, and try my best to avoid eye contact. I have also always had the habit of flailing and trying to escape when someone touches me unexpectedly. I have accidentally hit many people in the past, mostly family members and a couple of friends. They have all been cool about it, especially because I always apologize, and they have usually been warned beforehand. I’m not very strong either, so my panicky, limp-wristed flailing does not usually hurt when it connects. With that said, at 12, I was far worse.
One day, my mother had injured herself at work and, while she could drive, she had trouble walking. So, after school, I was sent into the grocery store for the essentials while she waited in the car. It was my first time shopping alone. I was nervous as heck and just trying to grab the stuff and get out of there. It has been a while, but I know I was wearing a T-shirt (probably with Snoopy or Tweety Bird on it), jean shorts, and velcro shoes, because that was generally what I wore at that time. While I reached my full height of 5’9″ early, and was probably 5’5″ or so at this time, I was still very obviously a kid.
On the way to the milk, I ducked down an aisle to avoid a group coming my way and noticed a display of old-fashioned cream soda sold in the individual bottles. I had been given permission to get something for myself and I loved these sodas, but they were hard to find, so I was definitely getting some.
As I was loading up my basket, I heard someone behind me clear their throat. Thinking I was blocking the path, I did not look back at them and just moved closer to the shelf. Then, I heard an aggressive sounding, ‘Excuse me!’ I stepped to the side, thinking I was blocking what this person wanted, and reached up high for one more soda on the top shelf.
That’s when I felt a hand clamp down on my shoulder, gripping tightly as long nails dug in hard. The woman yanked me around while yelling something to the effect of, ‘Get me the dang [insert item here] NOW, you lazy, worthless, little – !’
That was when I let out a terrified yelp, stumbled back and flailed at her. With my left hand. The hand that was holding the heavy glass bottle of soda. I can still remember the dull clank it made as it collided with that woman’s head.
She let me go.
I don’t know what her response was, because I dropped the shopping basket and ran away, crying hysterically. I ran out, jumped in the car and begged my mother to, ‘Just go.’ She did. I think she assumed that I had a panic attack or something, but thankfully, she didn’t question it at the time. I didn’t manage to calm down enough to tell her what happened until we got home. She checked my shoulder and found that the woman’s fingernails had actually cut through my shirt and torn into my skin. It was surprisingly painful.
I don’t know if the woman complained about the ‘crazy employee’ who attacked her, but I do know that the next time my mother went shopping, she came home with lots of coupons. She was a regular. Most employees recognized the chatty, friendly lady and her very quiet daughter who hid behind her. I assume one of the actual employees noticed me run out crying.
I have since learned to control my more wild flailing and instead just putting a hand up between me and the other person while cringing away, but, even though I thought I was to blame at the time, I now think this lady deserved what she got. If you lay your hands on someone hard enough to draw blood, you deserve to get cracked in the cranium with cream soda.”
“I’m not particularly proud of this. Last weekend, I was at a big box home improvement store, looking for components for a little project I was working on. I wasn’t dressed remotely like the staff and was listening to an audiobook with a set of Bluetooth headphones, with both earbuds in so I wouldn’t be bothered. Apparently, a guy in his early 30s in a pair of tattered jeans and a paint-splattered T-shirt (it doesn’t get more ‘weekend slack’ clothes than that) with headphones in and a piece of scrap paper in his hand is just the one to ask for assistance.
This middle-aged dude kept asking me where some-product-or-other was. He asked twice, significantly louder the second time. I glanced over at him and said, ‘Sorry, man, I don’t work here,’ gesturing at my clothes and the obvious lack of a name tag.
I went back to browsing the shelves, when, suddenly, I felt my Bluetooth headphones ripped from my head. I looked quickly to my right, just in time to see the middle-aged guy throw them to the concrete floor with as much force as he could manage. I heard a distinct snap, which was appropriate.
This is the part I’m not too proud of. I saw red.
I grabbed the guy by the front of his shirt and slammed him against the wall.
‘I told you I don’t work here, you idiot,’ I said, actually snarling. He started to protest, so I pushed him harder against the wall/shelf.
‘You couldn’t get that through your dumb, suburban skull though, and now you’ve assaulted me and destroyed my headphones,’ I continued. ‘What you’re going to do is give me all the cash you’ve got in your wallet and pray that it covers the replacement cost. And if you make a scene, I’ll give you something to scream about.’
He had gone from livid red to pale white. He rummaged, brought out his wallet, and handed over $40. I jammed it into my pocket, snatched up the headphones, and left the store. I got in my car and drove away as quickly as I legally could, eventually pulling into a grocery store parking lot to take several deep breaths. When I got home, I had a strong drink even though it wasn’t even noon yet.
I have never been in a fight in my life, aside from horsing around with friends in middle school. Now, I had threatened a dude in a store. My headphones, shockingly, were fine, though.”
Table Top Ruckus
“I work as a manager at a fast food restaurant. On this particular day, I had an open shift (4:30 am – 2 pm) and after finishing, I decided I would pop into the local shopping center to pick up a couple of things I needed. I changed out of my shirt into a plain T-shirt and wore a hoodie over it. Essentially, I was wearing black, nondescript pants and a blue hoodie. I got my shopping done and decided to head down to the food court to grab a bite to eat. Burger in hand, I sat down at a table and popped my headphones in to listen to some music while I browsed my phone and eat my (late) lunch.
All of a sudden, someone slammed their hand on my table down in front of me. I looked up and there was a middle-aged woman looking at me with a severely ticked off expression.
WOMAN: ‘Excuse me, I said I need that table’
ME: ‘Uhh, sorry?’
WOMAN: ‘That table. I need it. Get up.’
At this point, I was entirely confused and getting quite peeved at this person interrupting my burger time.
ME: ‘Look ma’am, I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but as you can see, I’m using this table right now.’
WOMAN: [in a mocking tone] ‘Mall employees have to give up their seats to paying customers.’
I feel I should mention a couple of things here. Firstly, there is absolutely no such rule stating that shopping center employees have to give up their seats. Secondly, this was a food court; as a shopping center employee, I could have been working at any number of restaurants. Thirdly, I, in no way, looked like I worked at any of the restaurants here. I was, for all intents and purposes, wearing casual clothes and I had a bunch of shopping bags at my feet.
ME: ‘Back off lady. I don’t even work here.’
WOMAN: ‘HOW DARE YOU TALK TO ME THAT WAY. I NEED THIS TABLE! WHERE IS YOUR MANAGER?’
At this, I actually burst into laughter at the comical nature of everything. I thought I was being pranked by some friends or something for a second.
ME: [still laughing] ‘I’m not getting up for you and I’m not talking to you anymore. Go find somewhere else to sit.’
WOMAN: ‘TELL ME WHERE YOU WORK NOW. WHERE IS YOUR MANAGER?’
At that point, I put my headphones back in and continued to laugh at her while she had this temper tantrum in the middle of the food court and people stared. When she noticed she wasn’t going to get anywhere, she stormed off in a huff. Her teenage daughter looked absolutely mortified throughout the whole encounter.
I mean, honestly, what did she think was going happen? The whole situation was just so bizarre, it was almost surreal. Even if I did work at a store in the shopping center, I wouldn’t have given up my seat for someone asking so rudely. The fact that she had to ask where I worked should’ve been a red flag that I didn’t work there.”
Can’t Help But Feel Bad For The Boyfriend
“Last night, after a long shift at work, I stopped by a grocery store to grab a couple of things on my way home. Keep in mind, I had spent all day dealing with rude customers, so I was already grumpy and ready to finish shopping so I could go home for some ice cream therapy. I was wearing my uniform (a red polo and black pants), but I also was wearing a sweater, a purse, and had a grocery basket with me.
I stopped in front of the frozen food section and wondered if I had enough energy to cook or if I should just be lazy and grab something microwaveable. As I was pondering this important decision, I heard someone behind me clear their throat. Out of habit, I stepped to the side, assuming I was in the way. Nope.
‘Oh my god, seriously?’ I heard. This got my attention. I glanced over my shoulder and there was this girl with her boyfriend, but right as I glanced at her, she looked up, annoyed, at her boyfriend. Lovers’ quarrel, I assumed and walk down the aisle a little more. Nope! I was wrong again.
‘Are you freaking kidding?’ she asked. ‘I have a question. Isn’t it, like, your job to be helping the customers or are you stupid or something?’
I stopped. I turned to face this girl, who was now standing with her hands on her hips with all the sense of entitlement in the world as her boyfriend looked away, slightly embarrassed. Before I said anything, she continued on.
‘I’m trying to find something that’s not on the shelf, but I need,’ she said. ‘You can check if you have more in the back. I mean, you can at least handle that right?’
Oh, heck no. I had enough of that at my work today. I was not going to put up with this brat.
“First off,’ I said, ‘I don’t freaking work here. Second, even if I did, that’s NOT how you ask someone a question. I don’t know what sort of person you think you are that you can talk to people like that, but you’re wrong. If you’re asking someone to do something for you, there should be a “please” and “thank you” in there. So, please leave me the heck alone. Thank you.’
I turned around, grabbed myself some Hot Pockets and stormed away as she stuttered and tried to find a comeback.”
So, About That Discount…
“This happened a few years ago. A friend and I decided to hit up GameStop to see if there was anything worth buying. I just happened to be wearing a polo shirt and had a lanyard/ID around my neck because I had just left the office.
This kid came up to me in the Xbox section and asked me if a certain game was available for PS3. He must have been about 12 and, knowing a fair bit about video games, I happened to know that yes, this title was available on multiple consoles. I went ahead and answered him in the affirmative, ‘Yes, this title is available for PS3.’
He simply said, ‘Get it for me.’
I paused and look down at this kid. ‘Excuse me?’ I asked.
‘Get it for me. I want to buy it.’
‘How about… you go get it for yourself? The shelf is right there,’ I told him and pointed off into the distance. I started to turn away. He forcefully demanded again that I get him this darn game. I went ahead and knelt so that I was eye level with him. I told him, ‘If you want that game so bad, walk your little butt over there and pick it up, I’m not your errand boy.’
The kid ran off and got his mom. My buddy and I were having a good chuckle at this. We got our games and headed off to stand in line. While we were making our way through the line, here came the kid again with his mom in tow. This GameStop is attached to a bookstore, so I guess Mom decided to let GameStop babysit her little demon spawn while she snuck off to look at 50 Shades of Lame.
Mom was throwing a fit at the front, saying that some employee told her child to ‘walk his fat butt over to a shelf and get a game himself.’ She demanded that said employee would be fired. At right about that moment, my buddy and I were stepping up to the register to pay for our games while Mom and her kid were looking for said ’employee.’
The kid looked up at me and said, ‘That’s him!’
Mom just exploded on me with a ton of vitriol. She’s going to have me fired and blah blah blah. Meanwhile, my buddy and I are cracking the heck up. He’s telling me stuff like, ‘Oh no. You’re going to get fired, dude,’ or asking the person ringing us up if we could have my employee discount before I’m terminated. This circus was only causing me to laugh harder, which in turn made her even angrier. In the midst of me on the verge of tears from laughing, this lady losing her mind, my buddy goading this woman on further, and messing with the GameStop employees asking for my employee discount, the manager came up front and asked what was going on.
The lady explained how I was rude to her son and refused to do my job, how I used foul language at her child, I was very unprofessional, she wanted me gone, etc., etc. The manager looked at me, looked back at this lady, at me, back at lady, and told her, ‘Ma’am, he doesn’t work for GameStop.’
My buddy then spoke up to say, ‘So, I take it that’s a no on his employee discount?'”
She’s Lovin’ It
“I work for McDonald’s. The location of my store is surrounded by grocery stores. It is convenient for me to do my grocery shopping when I get off work on a Friday night. One night, I walked in with headphones on, a red and black polo that CLEARLY SAYS ‘McDonald’s’ untucked, and my McDonald’s hat still on. At this particular grocery store, employees wear black slacks with a white button-down. I was just browsing the pasta aisle when, all of a sudden, someone came up to me and pulled out one of my headphones.
‘You work here, right?’ asked the lady who interrupted my music. ‘You shouldn’t be listening to music while you’re stocking. Now do your job and help me find [some toiletry item – paper towels or something].’
‘Ma’am, I’m off the clock and I DON’T EVEN WORK HERE,’ I told her. ‘Get the heck away from me and let me buy my macaroni noodles.’
She immediately went to find a manager. She found me a few rows later, manager in tow, and started screeching. The manager finally got a word in edgewise.
‘Ma’am, she doesn’t work here,’ the manager explained, ‘She’s a customer just like you.’
‘BUT, SHE HAS A NAME TAG ON!’
Yeah, and that name tag also says ‘McDonald’s’ on it, as does my hat, as does my shirt. Clearly, I work for this store.“
Class Is In Session
“I was walking to work. I was wearing jeans and some random t-shirt. I had my purse and a plastic bag with my lunch, and was having a smoke. I was 25 at the time and had small frame, so I was regularly mistaken for being younger.
As I was passing a bakery, 20-30 high school kids came out and started walking right ahead of me. Since I was smoking and the wind was blowing forward, I decide to wait for traffic to cross the road to get away from the students. Mrs. Teacher lady must have smelled the smoke and looked back to see me stopped, waiting to cross the road. She basically exploded.
‘I can’t believe you would try to pull that!’ she scolded me. ‘You know how I feel about smoking, and on a field trip none the less! When we get back to school, you’re going straight to detention!’
I was confused. A few students turned to look at me. Then, they were confused and, apparently, the teacher was confused as to why I was smoking.
‘Uhm. I’m not in your class,’ I told her. Traffic opened up and I attempted to cross, but she stopped me.
‘That’s not the point!’ she said. ‘Smoking is against school rules no matter what homeroom you’re in!’
‘No, like, I don’t go to your school at all. I’m 25. I’m going to work.’
Silence. Amazing, hilarious, awkward silence. Finally, a student piped up. ‘Yeah, no,’ said the student. ‘I’ve never seen that girl before.’
A few others agreed. The teacher still did not speak. ‘I’m, uhm, I’m gonna cross the road now,’ I said.
‘Yeah,’ the teacher mumbled, giving me a half nod.
A few students snickered and laughed. I gave them the peace sign because I was still half awake and had not processed what had just happened.”
Move Along, Nothing To See Here
“I actually witnessed this interaction yesterday while I was shopping at my local electronics store, with the blue polo and tan khaki pants uniform style. Over in the next aisle was another customer (I’ll call her ‘CUSTOMER #1’) wearing a white button-up shirt and dark khaki pants. Based on her dress (even though it was non-standard for the store, it looked professional) and general ‘no-nonsense,’ demeanor I guess I can partly understand why ‘CUSTOMER #2’ assumed automatically that Customer #1 was a manager.
The exchange proceeded as follows:
CUSTOMER #2: [making a beeline for Customer #1] ‘Thank God, I’ve been looking for a manager for 15 minutes. I’ve been having a problem with my -‘
CUSTOMER #1: ‘Sorry, I don’t work here. There should be a manager up front.’
CUSTOMER #2: [flustered, a bit annoyed] ‘I’ve been waiting to find you for 20 minutes, you’re not going to brush me off that easily. Now here’s what I need…’
This escalated through several rounds of conversation, with CUSTOMER #2 escalating her offense, disbelief, and general attitude of entitlement, while CUSTOMER #1 escalated in parallel. Finally, using her best crowd-control voice, she pulled out her badge and identified herself as an off-duty police officer.
CUSTOMER #1: ‘MY NAME IS LIEUTENANT “SMITH” AND I’M OFF-DUTY WITH THE POLICE. BACK OFF NOW OR I PLACE YOU UNDER ARREST!’
CUSTOMER #2: [on auto-pilot and taking a while to process] ‘… NEVER BEEN TREATED SO POORLY IN MY LIFE! I’M GOING TO REPORT THIS ENTIRE STORE TO YOUR HEADQUAR… ahh… umm…’
CUSTOMER #2’s face turned various shades of red and ghost-white in turn. Then, she fainted. Paramedics had to be called. I got to be an official witness for the police report.”
Somebody Get The Lady Her Pretzel Buns
“I work for a university police service as a security officer. My uniform consists of a white shirt with grey slacks and a blue striped tie. I also carry standard effects like a badge, radio, knife, handcuffs, flash light, etc. On this particular instance, I wasn’t working so I threw my badge in my pocket.
I rolled into a grocery store where employees wear brown slacks and green polos and started putting together a dinner for the evening – spicy tacos! While I was doing my thing, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see a woman in her mid 40s.
‘Where are the pretzel buns?’ she asked. After a second of wondering how she mistook me for an employee, I indicated the general direction of the breads and told her she could head that way to find what she was looking for. Noticeably dissatisfied with that answer, she said, ‘Do your job and come find them for me.’
At that point it went from simple misunderstanding to annoying entitlement. I told her I was not going to help her and when she asked why, I responded with the truth: ‘Well, I have no obligation to help you because I’m not an employee here and I choose not to help you because I don’t feel like it.’
Apparently, that was an unsatisfactory response and my ‘lack of initiative’ was something my manager was going to hear about. Had she left to find a manager. I probably should have just ignored her. But that’s not what happened. I was obviously lying. She doubled down and started yelling and involving other customers.
‘Look! This piece of trash employee won’t help me,’ she hollered.
People other than myself started to be bothered by this woman’s attitude, so I made the decision to end the discussion as quickly as possible. I pulled out my badge.
‘Ma’am, this is your only warning,’ I told her. ‘I’m an officer with [university] police. Back off now!’
She stopped for a moment, muttered something I didn’t catch, then walked away, still steaming from the ears. I went back to my soft vs. hard shell debate. Less than five minutes later, guess who showed up with what looked like the oldest employee she could find. The old guy HAS to be the manager, right?
‘Your employee is pretending to be a police officer!’ the lady moaned.
This old guy was a cashier who recognized me from previous late night visits and greeted me with a What the heck? look on his face. He turned to the woman and said, ‘He’s definitely not an employee and I’m pretty sure he IS a cop!’
She just wasn’t having it.
‘Fine!’ she grunted. ‘I don’t care. Don’t help me. All I wanna know is where are your freaking pretzel buns?’
He looked at her and delivered the best news I had heard all night: ‘Ma’am, we don’t sell those.'”
She Only Heard What She Wanted To Hear
“After finishing up a grueling shift at the restaurant I worked at, I remembered, just then, that I had to swing by a store for some items before I went home. I contemplated going home to change out of my uniform, but I figured that if I went home, I would be too lazy to leave again. My uniform consisted of a polo or button-down shirt with khakis, and a name tag pinned to my shirt. I drove over to the store, and as I was walking in the store, I took off my name tag and put it in my pocket so that people would not just see a name tag and think I worked there, even though my name tag also said the name of the restaurant.
I was browsing the store for the particular items I wanted and this lady was just staring at me. I was looking at her through my peripheral vision my whole time, and she wasn’t moving at all. Just staring at me. I got weirded out, so I turned toward her so I could walk past her. As I was passing her, she gave me a disgusted look.
‘Excuse me!’ she said. ‘I’m looking at you because I needed help, and you just look at at me and pass me by?!? How dare you!!’
Absolutely tired of all the stress from my own job, I just replied, ‘It’s because I don’t work here, ma’am.’
‘Don’t give me excuses!’ she said, obviously too infuriated at me to believe me at all. ‘Now tell me if you have more of [some random item].’
I was tired, hungry, and ready to take a nice nap at home, so I wasn’t going to let this lady impede me from doing so. So, I snapped at her, ‘Look lady! I already told you that I don’t work here. Even if I did, you shouldn’t just stare at me expecting me to help you and get all offended if I don’t.’
I then remembered that I had my name tag in my pocket. I took it out and show her.
‘Look, I work at [restaurant]. Not here,’ I said. ‘Now please let me get the things I wanted and I’ll leave.’
As soon as I showed her my name tag, she became quiet. But, I could still see the anger and rage in her eyes. I checked out and went home.
But, it did not stop there.
The next day, I was a couple of hours into my shift, and I was at the front, and my manager just happened to be there with me at the time. All of a sudden, a familiar lady walked in. It was the same lady who was yelling at me the day before. Immediately, I thought, Is this a coincidence, or did she actually follow me here? Then I remembered that I showed her my name tag, which also had the restaurant’s name on it, so I guessed that she just remembered where I worked.
She walked to the front desk and looked at my manager asking, ‘Are you the manager?’
‘Yes, I am,’ he replied.
‘Well, I want to talk to you about your employee here,’ she said, pointing at me. She then went on to say how much of an inconsiderate and rude person I was. She told him what happened at the store and how my manager shouldn’t have an employee like me working here.
My manager replied, ‘I’m sorry you had that experience, but I’m not responsible for anything he does outside of working hours.’
He gives me a look of I got your back, bro. The lady just yelled at us, ‘Well, I’m never eating at this place that lets people like him work here!!’
She stormed out of the building, hopefully never to be seen or heard from again.”
Wrong Store, Wrong State
“I was traveling for a job interview a few months back and needed to pick up a replacement charger for my phone as my car charger was shorting out. I was dressed up in a blue button down, black slacks, and a blue and white striped tie.
I went into a large electronics retailer in the area, partially to kill time because I had an hour before my interview. I was browsing PC headsets because my dog sat on my old one and snapped the headband when a lady walked up to me, crossed her arms, and started tapping her foot, clearly upset. I started to walk away, assuming I was blocking her view of headsets when she cleared her throat.
LADY: ‘Um, can I get some help?’
ME: ‘Oh, I’m sorry ma’am. I don’t work here, but I can try to answer any questions you have.’
That was when she lost it.
LADY: ‘All of you freaking employees here are so rude. You just want to take my money and not give any service!’
ME: ‘Lady, I don’t work here. I’m a customer just like you.’
LADY: ‘Then why the heck are you dressed in the uniform?’
The uniform there is a white button down and a black tie. And a name tag.
ME: ‘Let me flag down an employee and get someone who can help you.’
LADY: ‘No, I want your manager. I’m getting you fired.’
ME: ‘Uh, I work for a furniture retailer in another state and am dressed like this because I’m in Ohio for job interviews with a few tech companies. Let me find an employee for you.’
LADY: ‘No, you’re going to get your manager here, now.’
At this point I was getting peeved. I unlocked my phone and proceeded to call my work – a state away. I put it on speaker phone.
BOSS: ‘Thank you for calling [furniture store] in Indianapolis, this is “Boss.”‘
ME: ‘Hey B, it’s [me]. I’m in Ohio at [electronics retailer] and a lady wanted to talk to my manager.’
BOSS: ‘Uh, ok.’
The lady looks at me, jaw dropped.
LADY: ‘Hello, I’m at your store in Columbus and your employee refuses to help me. I want him fired.’
BOSS: ‘Uh, he doesn’t work for [electronics retailer]. Are you at [furniture store]?’
LADY: ‘No, he told you where we are. I want him fired.’
BOSS: ‘Well, I’m not going to fire him for not working at a store he doesn’t work at, but he’s pretty resourceful. I’m sure he can find help for you.’
LADY: ‘Well, why can’t he help me?’
At that point, my boss hung up. The lady looked at me all ticked off, threw the mouse she was carrying on the floor and stomped out, complaining about calling corporate on me. I refused to tell her my name. I flagged down a manager and explained the situation, just so he would not have to investigate when the complaint came in.”
This Story Is For The Birds
“My day started with me showing up to work only to realize that it was my day off. With my day off, I decided to go and buy a turkey for Thanksgiving the following week. I didn’t go back to my home to change because the store was closer, so I went to the store in a typical office outfit, not thinking anything of it.
There were plenty of turkeys and I chose a nice big FAT one. I was salivating already. As I was about to put it into my cart, this older woman said, ‘I’ll take that one,’ and reached for it. I thought that this was some joke she was making, so I chuckled, until she actually had her hands on the turkey and started to tried to take it.
I was shocked and asked what she was doing. She became all huffy and whiny and said, ‘I thought you were restocking the turkey, and since you were holding it, I felt it was better to grab it from you than have to bend over and grab one and potentially hurt my back!’
‘Restock it?’ I asked her. ‘Wait, I don’t work here and I was putting the turkey into the cart, not out of it.’
She got really upset and grabbed her husband’s attention. This guy looked like one of those my wife is a queen and should be treated as such types. He looked at me like I was some snot-nosed teenager who needed to be told how to respect people, even though I am pushing 30.
‘Son,’ he said, ‘now you give her that turkey, and maybe I won’t report you to your manager.’
I just looked at him and said, ‘I’m… sorry? I don’t actually work here. There are plenty of other turkeys. I mean, if she needs help putting a turkey in her cart, I won’t mind helping, but you seem like you are capable of doing that.’
He then raised his voice at me. I am sure people all through the store could hear him.
‘I tried to be fair with you!’ he said. ‘Give her that turkey on the count of three, or I will have no choice but to put the fear of God into you! One… Two!’
At this point, I was pretty much just going What the heck? all over in my head. Was this guy for real? I just wanted this turkey. There were plenty of other turkeys. Why was this one so special? Thankfully, the manager was close by and interrupted him.
‘Is everything alright over here?’ the manager asked.
‘Yes!’ the man replied. ‘Your employee over here is refusing to give my wife that turkey! She has a bad back and trying to lift one of these turkeys could cause her harm! I should sue you and this prick you hired for attempting to cause my wife bodily harm!’
The manager looked at me, seeing that I CLEARLY did not work there, and said to him, ‘Sir, this man doesn’t work here. He has no obligation to give you that turkey. Please calm down and I will grab another turkey for you, otherwise, I will have to ask you to leave.’
The man’s face turned red and he just lost it.
‘HOW DARE YOU TALK TO ME IN SUCH DISRESPECT!!’ he hollered. ‘I WILL HAVE YOU KNOW THAT THIS IS NO MAN. THIS IS A BOY WHO NEEDS TO BE TAUGHT A LESSON IN MANNER AND I SHOULD GIVE YOU THE SAME TREATMENT TOO!’
His wife looked at me like a teacher would at a misbehaving student.
‘You see what you caused?’ she asked. ‘Your mother must have been a horrible parent if this is the child that she raised.’
Oh no. No. Heck no. My mother had just died a few weeks earlier and this… No.
‘You know what? Here,’ I said, slamming the turkey into their cart. ‘Take it! Take this stupid turkey. Go. Have it! It is not freaking worth putting up with this freaking Jerry Springer act. So have your darn turkey!”
I stormed out. I thought I would be done with them, but Mr. Anger Management decided that I didn’t excuse myself from the table properly enough.
‘Excuse me, you disrespectful brat!’ he scolded me. ‘I demand an apology for how you treated my wife and I! I want it right now!’
I gave it to him. I flipped him off and told him he could shove that up his rear end along with that turkey. Then, I let him know that my mother died only a few weeks before and told him to thank his wife for what she said.
I had never been punched in the face before, so I was able to mark that off my bucket list. When the cops asked if I wanted to press charges against him, you bet I did!
He was pretty ticked off, especially since he believed that the cops were there to arrest me because I had flipped him off and was completely disrespectful to him. I guess he didn’t get the memo that he had PUNCHED ME IN THE FACE!
I think the dumbest thing though, that I really don’t get, is what he said to the cops in an attempt to try to cast the blame on me. He accused me of being a gang member. Remember, I was in office attire, not very gang looking. Maybe he thought flipping him off was some gang signs. I don’t know. He was playing the victim the whole time and the thought of him being in trouble for this just blew his mind. When they put him in cuffs and put him into the car, he started bawling out crying and saying stuff like now his poor wife will be without care or some nonsense.
Speaking of his poor wife…she only came out when he was being arrested and just acted all crippled and weak even though she had just run out of the grocery store pushing a cart full of food and supplies. While the cops were asking her questions, I could see that she was giving me the evil eye.
The store manager gave me a free turkey, as well as several free pies. I got Pumpkin (of course), white chocolate cheesecake, pecan, and cherry. Thanksgiving turned out great. As for Mr. And Mrs. Prick, I have a friend whose brother is a lawyer and will be working on my case.”
“This was a while ago when I was 17 years old. I had just finished my shift at Waitrose, a UK supermarket. My mom picked me up from work and we stopped off at a gas station on the way home. The station was one of those that were connected to a chain supermarket – this one was Marks & Spencers.
For clarification, my uniform was white, with a green tie, and a grey apron with ‘WAITROSE’ emblazoned on it. The Marks & Spencers’ uniform is all black. I was also wearing a coat and had my hair down.
I was just browsing, waiting for my mom to pay, when a lady came up to me.
LADY: ‘Where are the nuts?’
ME: ‘Oh, really sorry, I don’t work here.’ [pointing to the huge ‘WAITROSE’ on the front of my apron] ‘I’m just still in my work uniform from Waitrose.’
LADY: ‘… So where are the nuts?’
ME: ‘Like I said, don’t work here, so I don’t know. I’m sorry?’
LADY: ‘Excuse me? Where’s your supervisor, you’re being rude.’
MD: ‘I wouldn’t know, since I don’t work here? There’s an employee over there. I’m sure they’ll know where the nuts are.’
The lady then stormed over to the M&S employee and started loudly proclaiming that a ‘member of their staff’ was being rude to her and refusing to serve her by pretending to not work in the shop. I made eye-contact with the employee and gestured to my ‘WAITROSE’ apron. The employee explained to the lady that I didn’t work there.
LADY: ‘Then why is she PRETENDING to work here?’
EMPLOYEE: ‘She’s just doing her shopping, like you were.’
LADY: ‘That’s ridiculous. She needs to leave. She’s confusing people. You should ask her to leave.’
EMPLOYEE: ‘I’m not going to do that. She has as much right to be here as you.’
LADY: ‘That’s ridiculous. I want to speak to your manager.’
At this point I was on my way out anyway, so I didn’t hear how the lady was dealt with, but I’ve never experienced something like that again.”
Taking The High Road
“Last summer, a friend and I worked together in a national park. There was a semi-large fire for a while that put us out of work. After the fire was contained, and we returned to work, we decided to go for a drive to check out the damage. We pulled over at what used to be a well-known historic inn which had a small convenience store with a single gas pump out front. Of course, the inn and store were made of wood so they were completely incinerated, right along with all the trees in the area. This gas pump was the only thing left standing anywhere around. I don’t know how it still stood.
We were there exploring, looking in disbelief at the huge amount of melted glass and general rubble that used to be a store. We had just been there a month before on our way to the river and we mentioned how we would never again get to have more of their incredible homemade ice-cream, etc.
While we were standing there, a full car with a family of five pulled right to the pump. The dad was driving and started asking us if the pump took debit. We were taken aback by his question because this was very clearly not an operating gas station. There was no building, just burned trees, rubble, and a blackened gas pump. My friend took the reigns on this one first and explained that there is no gas due to the fire here and the gas station was burned to the ground. The dad completely ignored her attempt to explain the obvious and instead looked to me and asked, ‘So how do I pay for gas?’
‘You can’t,’ I told him. ‘This is no longer a functioning pump. It doesn’t work.’
He became extremely angry and said, ‘But my GPS TOLD me this was a gas station! Where is the gas station?!’
My friend and I looked at him and answered in perfect unison, ‘We’re STANDING on it!!’
Despite all of this, the guy just could not seem to be able to grasp what we were saying. He started complaining, angrily, that his kids had to use the bathroom and that he needed gas badly. There was not another gas station until all the way back where he came from (20 miles through twisty mountain roads) since the road was still closed off ahead of us to prevent access to the areas with the worst damage.
This guy not only refused to believe the gas pump didn’t work, but he had to try it for himself, all while continuing to complain how ridiculous it is that we were telling him he could not get gas. We watched him realize that there was no debit card slot on this old burned gas pump. That was when he really lost it.
He gave us both a strange, menacing look as if it was our fault or that we were playing some sort of an elaborate prank on him. I think it must have dawned on him that we worked in the area since knew so much about it. He demanded to know where we worked, seeing as how we were so unhelpful with his problem. We told him, too. What was he going to do? Hint: nothing happened.
We directed him to turn around and go back to where we work and where he most likely started his journey that day, since there, literally, was nowhere else for him to go. It would have been hilarious if he was not so angry about it all. Finally, the guy realized this was going nowhere and got back in the car and sped off, continuing on in the wrong direction on a road that led to nothing.
We still laugh about the sheer stupidity of this man. They almost definitely ran out of gas and I can guarantee they had no cell service that deep into the woods.”
Right Aisle, Wrong Person
“I made the mistake of going to a big box superstore on a Saturday morning. I hate shopping for grocery items (or anything else) there, but I was already there for something else and didn’t have time to stop at the grocery store for what I needed.
So there I was, in the condiment aisle, reading a label on Worcestershire sauce (I can’t have the ones that contain anchovies), and I heard a lady ask, ‘Where is the seafood sauce?’ She was maybe half an aisle length away and there were other people around and in between us. I replaced the bottle I was reading and grabbed another, when I heard her again, much more insistent.
‘Excuse me,’ she said, ‘I’m looking for the seafood sauce.’
I looked up because she sounded annoyed and I thought maybe things were about to get interesting. That’s when I saw that she was looking at me. Me, in my coat with my basket and purse on one arm, Worcestershire sauce in the other hand. Me, not the lady shopping next to her or the lady behind her, both much closer and in a better position to offer assistance if they felt so inclined. She wants me to help her?
ME: ‘I’m sorry?’
SAUCE LADY: ‘Seafood sauce. I can’t find it. Can you help me?’
ME: [still confused because I’m apparently slow on the uptake] ‘Uhhhh, it’s not over here.’
The saucy lady perked her head up and squinted her eyes, obviously displeased that I was probably selfishly hiding the seafood sauce from her or unwilling to locate it. Just as she was about to (I’m assuming) shake her fist at me and tear me a new one, an amused onlooker spoke up.
‘I don’t think she works here,’ the customer said.
Oooooohhhhhhhh! Sudden realization hit me.
ME: ‘Nope, I sure don’t. Sorry. But I bet it’s over by the seafood department if they have it.’
SAUCE LADY: ‘Well, you shouldn’t wear red in here.’
I didn’t have the heart to tell her that the employees there wear blue, or that the only red on me was my hair. I still have no idea what made her think I was an employee. People are weird.”