I’m a cashier, and I’m making small talk with a male customer at my register.

Me: “The new ten-dollar bill is going to have a woman on it!”

Customer: “Oh, so it’s going to be worthless.”

In the store where I work, customers need to walk by an emergency exit in the stockroom in order to access the restrooms. One day, the alarm goes off, and, being a keyholder, I run back to see what happened. There’s an older man and his old-enough-to-know-better adult son.

Son: “It’s okay. He just got confused and thought that was the men’s room.”

Me: “That’s okay—” *that’s a lie* “—but please don’t open that door again unless there’s an emergency requiring immediate evacuation. We strongly believe in customer safety and employee safety and, as you can see, we take alarms very seriously.”

I point to the large, brightly-colored, clearly-written “Emergency Exit Only” signs on the door AND the crash bar, and then I go back to work.

Five minutes later, the alarm goes off again. Same door, same two clowns.

Son: “He got lost again.” *Laughs*

Guess who was politely told to get lost until they learned how to read?

I’m a college student and not an employee anywhere. I am browsing a store looking for a birthday present for my brother. I’m wearing a grungy white undershirt and ripped jeans. No self-respecting store would ever let an employee look like me.

Customer: “Hey, you!”

I hear fingers snap and ignore it. Then, I feel someone grab my shoulder.

Customer: “Hey! I need some help here!”

Me: “I’m not a shrink, so I can’t give you the help you need.”

Customer: “I’ll have you fired for that!”

Me: “I don’t work. Here or anywhere else. Now go away.”

Customer: “Where’s your manager?”

Me: “I. DON’T. HAVE. ONE. Are you deaf or just stupid? I. DO. NOT. HAVE. A. JOB. I am a student.”

The idiot finally actually looks at me and it seems to click that what I’m wearing would be unacceptable attire for any workplace.

Customer: “You’ll never get one looking like that!”

Me: “I don’t care. Get lost.”

The idiot stomped off, kicking one of the displays en-route. I bought what I needed after he left the store.

Related:
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 43
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 42
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 41
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 40
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 39

I was sewing new cushions for my RV dining benches when I realized I was a bit short on material. I quickly ran to the nearest superstore. I went to the fabric station and found my fabric, but there was no employee to cut the fabric and price it. I hit the call button. I waited and waited. I hit the button again, several times.

After literally twenty minutes, I started to roll out my fabric so that when an employee showed up it would be ready for cutting and would expedite this process. Yet still, no one came.

I was still standing there when two ladies come up to the table with bolts of fabric.

Lady #1: “Hi, can you get these really quick? We are in a hurry.”

Me: “No, honey, I don’t work here.”

Lady #2: “Well, you certainly look official!”

I looked down at my outfit. I was wearing patterned leggings, a pro-marijuana T-shirt, and a mask with a word that means something obscene in another language. I started laughing and they got mad. They threatened to call a manager. I was about to tell them to hurry up and call because I was still waiting, but just then, the worker showed up.

A woman comes into our store without a mask.

Me: “Ma’am, you must wear a mask in order to shop here.”

Woman: “You are a literal Nazi! This is ridiculous!”

I’ve never been so close to losing my cool. She shouted at my coworker and me for almost ten minutes.

The worst part was that she had a mask in her purse that she finally put on after all of that. It was a flimsy cloth one that had “MIND CONTROL” hand-painted on the front.