I’m in something called 4-H. We basically raise and show animals as well as educate people about them. In my county, the biggest part of 4-H is the fair every year, where we all take our animals and do shows with them and leave them there for a week so people can see them. We are still obligated to take care of them and watch over them, so most of us spend every day after school at the fair taking care of our animals. 

I’m an executive at the fair, part of the county council which is in charge of all 4-H in the county, as well as the executive board which is in charge of it for the state. I’m the longest-serving small animal shower, and around the small animal area, I’m the one in charge.

Everyone is wearing masks (because it’s 2021), and this is making it extra tiring while working out here. The small animals are kept in two rows off to the side with a rope around them, cutting them off from the outside world.

People are allowed to look at them while they stroll through the barn, but only exhibitors like me are allowed behind the rope. Exhibitors identify themselves by wearing 4-H shirts as well as lanyards, and I even have a 4-H mask for good measure.

I walk into the animal area to check on my bunnies, and I see a large group of people, mostly older people, behind the rope, walking around the animal cages, talking, and pointing at the rabbits and chickens. None are wearing 4-H shirts, nor do they have lanyards. As the person in charge of the small animals, it’s my job to deal with this.

Me: “Excuse me. Are you exhibitors?”

Visitor: “No, we are just looking at the cute animals.”

Me: “I’m sorry to say that only exhibitors are allowed back here; I’m going to have to ask you to step back out.”

Visitor: “Oh, no, don’t worry. We know one of the exhibitors, and they let us back here.”

There is no exhibitor with them, and even if there was, due to current restrictions, they’re still not allowed to invite others back with the animals.

Me: “I’m sorry, but even, so if you are not an exhibitor or owner yourself, you cannot be back here. Please leave. You can observe the animals from outside.”

Visitor: “But they said it was okay for us to come in; they own some of the animals!”

Me: “I’m sorry, but that is not their decision to make. Please leave this area.” 

They eventually leave, and I think it is over. Then, their entitled exhibitor and her parents came running up to me. 

Entitled Exhibitor: “Hey, those people were our guests. They are allowed to be in there; I let them!”

Me: “You know that’s not allowed; we have regulations.”

Entitled Exhibitor: “I said it was fine!”

Me: “Well, I didn’t! We can’t risk anyone getting sick, so only exhibitors are allowed back there! If you have a problem, take your animal and leave!”

And she did! I’m not compromising on safety because you said it was “okay”!

Customer: *Angrily* “Where are you hiding your shopping carts?!”

I point to the hundreds we keep outside the store.

Customer: “Oh, I thought those were just for display.”

I am taking the orders of a couple in our diner.

Customer: “I’d like the cheeseburger and sweet potato fries, please. Oh, and I don’t mean to cause a fuss, but I notice one of your cooks is a bit… well… flamboyant. Can we have someone else prepare our food, please?”

I look over to our kitchen, which can be seen through the large, wide serving hole in the wall.

Me: “Which of the cooks would you like to prepare your meal, ma’am?”

Customer: “The nice-looking guy to the left seems fine. He seems… normal.”

I bring the order over and call over the “normal”-looking cook to explain my interaction.

Cook: “On it…” *sly smile* “…girlfriend!“

What happens next at any other time would have been an offensive display of OTT stereotypes of an interpretation of a sassy gay man.

Cook: “Ooooh, these jala-PEN-yos be on fire today, just like me!”

He is “sashaying” around the kitchen, bending over dramatically to pick up ingredients and cookware, and whenever he passes by the cook who was described as “a bit flamboyant”, he gives him a peck on the cheek and calls him “darling” or “lover”.

All of this is performed in plain view of our homophobic customer.

When the food is finally ready and I go to collect:

Cook: “Food’s up, girlfriend! I made it with some extra love from a special place, ya feel me?”

I bring the food over, and the customer is as white as a sheet.

Customer: “Can… can we get this food to go?”

Me: “Absolutely! Let me just go get you a takeout box.”

My manager is the one to bring them the takeout box. He’s a big, burly, hairy, cage-fighter-looking kinda guy. When he walks up to the customers, he takes the performance art that was our cook and cranks it up a few notches in how he “sissies that walk” up to them.

Manager: “Hey there, queens! We heard you had to sashay away… so sad! Please come again soon and stay fabulous!”

To the bigot’s credit, they paid quickly (no tip) and got out of there as quickly as possible. Strangely enough, they haven’t been back. Also… not one employee of this diner is gay. Not one.

I work at a bakery that also sells random drinks. A customer buys a bottle of kombucha for her son without knowing what it actually is. Kombucha happens to be a weird hipster drink that has naturally occurring alcohol. (It’s not enough alcohol to get you even tipsy, so you don’t need to be twenty-one to buy it.) And it tastes like straight-up vinegar — at least to me. 

It’s no surprise when her seven-year-old son hates the drink. That’s when his mother realizes that the label says that there’s naturally occurring alcohol in it. She comes back to me and starts screaming. 

Customer: “I should call the police! You knowingly sold an alcoholic drink to a seven-year-old!”

Me: “You’re actually the one who came up to the counter to buy the drink, not your son. You said nothing about buying the drink for your son.”

Customer: “Where is your supervisor?!”

Supervisor: “I’m coming! I heard! Let’s just skip the part where you try to sue us or call the police to divert attention away from the part where you f***ed up as a parent when really all you want to do is replace the drink that your son doesn’t want to drink.”

Customer: “That is not what is happening!”

Supervisor: “So, you’re saying that if I replace your son’s drink with something else, you still won’t go away?” 

Customer: “…”

Supervisor: “…”

Customer: “He’ll take an apple juice.”

Supervisor: “Splendid!”

From that supervisor, I learned how to quickly cut through customer BS and get straight to the point. Such a time-saver!

This story shows how all retail should work. Some twenty years ago, we got some extra unexpected money. We decided to treat ourselves to a new, big flat-screen TV. Our first visit was to our local store. (We live in a small city.)

I explained what we were looking for (46″ or larger, 100Hz), and the salesperson showed us an expensive [Brand #1]. The price was already reduced to €1,999 (from €2,499 if my memory is correct) but it was a bit too expensive.

Next, he showed us a nice [Brand #2], and the price was €1,199. But before we said anything, he reduced it to €1,099 and then €999. We said we would consider the offer and went to a larger city nearby to get some options.

At [Big Chain Retail #1], we looked at all the large TV sets displayed on the wall and at the four salespeople talking to each other. After ten minutes, we left. No one wanted to sell anything to us.

At [Big Chain Retail #2], we encountered the same thing. We looked at the large TV sets and the staff talking to each other and didn’t bother.

At [Big Chain Retail #3], we found someone willing to sell, but unfortunately, they only had smaller than 40″ and larger than 52″.

We went back to our local store and bought the [Brand #2].

Happily, we unpacked and started the new TV, but the image was flickering. I checked the specs and found that it was 50Hz only. Time to pick up the phone and call the seller.

I told him that our new TV was only 50Hz. He was quiet for a while and then responded.

Employee: “S***! My mistake! I am so sorry. Your TV has a V in the model name; the 100Hz has W. I will call you back.”

Five minutes passed before he called back.

Employee: “I can replace your TV with the same kind but 100Hz for free. But! That model is outgoing, and there is a small chance that I can’t get one for you. If so, I can give you the [Brand #1] set you were interested in, but then I have to add €100 to the price. How about that?”

The next day, staff from the store came with the [Brand #1] TV and replaced the [Brand #2]. They unpacked and set up the TV, and they took all of the packaging with them. I ended up with a much better TV and paid less than half of the original price.

Guess which store I do all my purchases in now!