I am sixteen, at my first job at a big grocery retailer. I am working stock in the noodle aisle when I feel a tap on my shoulder. It’s a middle-aged gentleman. He just looks at me and says the word:

Customer: “Corn.”

Me: “We have canned corn, fresh, and frozen.”

Customer: “Corn on the cob.”

I walk him over to the produce department, and we are sold out. This is normal for the time of year; it’s winter.

Me: “I’m afraid we’re out in produce, but we have frozen corn on the cobb.”

Customer: “No! The freezer ruins it! You’re hiding the corn for yourselves due to the corn shortage!”

Me: “Sir, it’s simply out of season and harder to get in the wintertime. I think this store does have it from time to time in the winter, but it’s mostly limited to canned and frozen options.”

Customer: “I want to speak to the manager!”

The manager is a tough but fair woman who tells everything how it is. I call her, and she comes to the area. The customer immediately goes off about the hidden corn again.

Customer: “I know about your corn parties!”

My manager and I both fight back the laughter. I mean, what are you supposed to do? Corn is good, but who would have a party with corn?

Customer: “You are not taking me seriously! My wife will be very angry when she hears about this!”

Manager: “I’m afraid that there is nothing I can do. All the corn we have is what you see on display.”

Customer: “I will make sure that the wrath of corporate will come down upon you both!”

He storms out, and my manager recognizes me as one of the new hires.

Manager: “Everyone eventually gets their ‘welcome to retail’ story. Yours is the guy causing a scene over a corn conspiracy.”

Me: “A cornspiracy!“

Manager: “Shush! We don’t want the customers to overhear!”

My nickname was “Cornspiracy” for the rest of my time there!

Related:
Welcome To Retail, Part 8
Welcome To Retail, Part 7
Welcome To Retail, Part 6
Welcome To Retail, Part 5
Welcome To Retail, Part 4

We sadly have this very regular trashy customer who comes in stinking of booze and tries to buy more booze, all while driving. (Trust us, we’ve reported it.) Just to add some extra icing to this crap cupcake is that he likes to harass the staff, especially the women.

One of our new hires has been warned about him, and we point him out when he comes in. He sees this new pretty young woman and makes a beeline straight for her.

Customer: “Well, howdy, darling! I ain’t seen you around before.”

New Hire: “I’m new, sir. Can I help you find anything?”

Customer: “Don’t be callin’ me ‘sir’. That’s what I call my daddy. Unless you want to call me ‘Daddy’…”

New Hire: “Sir, please let me know if you need my help finding an item we sell. If not, I’m busy.”

The customer leans forward and tries to stop her from leaving by touching her shoulder.

New Hire: “Sir, I’m not a goat or your sister, so get your hands off of me.”

Thankfully, that was the first time he had been even remotely physical to any of us, and it was enough to warrant his ban once and for all!

This was seven or eight years ago before I quit smoking. The place I worked at had an outdoor smoking area where most people gathered to socialize. At the time I, a woman in my late twenties, had my bag with a bunch of geeky pins, including several Marvel pins. A new guy came up to me, looked at my bag, and scoffed.

New Guy: “Are you even a real fan?”

Any girl into geeky stuff knows where this is going.

He started quizzing me on Marvel but in a weird, obscure way. Like, “In which issue of ‘X-Men’ was Kitty Pride first introduced?” kind of obscure — pedantic statistic kind of questions. When I didn’t know, he rolled his eyes.

New Guy: “I knew you were just another fake fan.”

My turn. I put on my best “clueless girly-girl” voice.

Me: *Faking confusion* “Aren’t you going to answer some questions, too? You know, to really root out any fake fans, since you seem so concerned about the concept.”

The guy was wearing a Deadpool shirt.

Me: “What’s Deadpool’s full name?”

New Guy: “Wade Wilson.”

Me: “No, his full name. What’s his middle name?”

He didn’t know. I asked if Deadpool had any kids. He didn’t know. A few more (actually) basic Deadpool questions later, he hadn’t gotten any right.

Really upping the girly-girl voice, I said:

Me: “Huh. You asked me all those weird questions, and I just asked for the name of the guy on your shirt and whether he had kids or not. I guess both of us are fake fans, then?”

And then, I just beamed at the guy. His face turned red, and he stormed out. He didn’t even finish his cigarette.

He never talked to me again. There’s no “…and then everyone clapped,” but I did get a high-five and a smirk from another smoker who had been watching.

Pulling an Uno Reverse while ramping up the girliness has become my go-to move against gatekeeping a**holes, and it is AMAZINGLY effective. I highly recommend it!

CONTENT WARNING: Gross

I am a relatively new air steward, and I have just finished responding to a customer who has been abusing the call button.

Me: “The guy in 45A has had about four gin and tonics. I think I’m going to cut him off as he’s looking a little woozy. I don’t think I could handle it if he threw up.” 

Coworker #1: “Oh, a little vomit is nothing. We get that all the time.” 

Me: “Oh, I know, they drill that into you in training, but I don’t want to contribute to it if I can help it.” 

Coworker #1: “One time, we had this guy who took a s*** in one of the sick bags so that he didn’t have to go down to the bathroom. We couldn’t find what was causing the smell and even almost considered landing the plane early as it got so bad, but the pilot noted that we were less than an hour from the destination, and landing, unboarding, and all would take longer, so we had to endure it.”

Coworker #2: “I remember that flight! We found the bag after everyone got up and left. There was some splatter on the seat, floor, and wall, too. We had to use a different plane and hazmat that one.”

Another coworker, who has been silently mixing a drink in the corner, joins in.

Coworker #3: “Oh, that’s nothing. I once had to stop one of our passengers from breastfeeding her cat.”

My eyes go wide.

Coworker #3: “I mean, I know they like milk and everything… but… yeah… That image stays with you…” 

Coworker #1: “Anyway, welcome to the airline industry!”

As a manager at a fast food chain, I was talking to myself, working out who would go to what station during the upcoming rush.

A young new hire suddenly confronted me.

New Hire: “The voices aren’t real. You shouldn’t talk back to them. I took bad acid and have been hearing voices ever since. I almost got sent to a mental hospital until I realized I shouldn’t reply unless I actually see the person talking. It’s better to not reply to someone talking behind you than to reply to someone who isn’t there at all. I’m so happy to find someone like me!”

Mind you, this was all said as one continuous sentence, and it wasn’t until she got to the “someone like me” part that it clicked, so I interrupted her.

Me: “I don’t hear voices.”

New Hire: “What?!”

Me: “I was just talking to myself.”

I found out later that she clocked out and never came back.