Unfiltered Story #207218

(I work for a well-known department store, which had partnered with a television program featuring amateur fashion designers competing; the winning designs would be sold in our stores. We had a large banner in women’s clothing advertising this, with a picture of the celebrity hosts. A guy approaches me with a smirking grin that screams “troll” before he even starts talking; when he does talk, it’s with an obnoxious, dramatic tone that indicates he’s trying to get a reaction out of me.)

Customer: “So, I just wanted to know: WHERE are the outfits from Fashion Week?”

Me: “That’s something I can order for you through our system.”

Customer: “Well, I SPECIFICALLY heard them say, that the items would be available in stores the day after the show.”

Me: “Yes, available to buy, but not all stores will have them physically in stock. Each location has a merchandise selection that’s catered to the customers who regularly shop there. I would be perfectly happy to order them for you; were you looking at outfits from the first episode, or the second?”

Customer: *deflates a little at my non-reaction* “Oh, well I’m not actually looking to buy.” *I can see him cast around for another tactic to try* “By the way, who’s that blonde chick who was married to Nick?”

Me: *knowing who he means but not wanting to feed the Troll* “Hmm?”

Customer: “You know, the blonde one-” *He sees the show poster* “Oh, that one! With the blonde hair? Well, they all have blonde hair, but the one with that kind of blonde, and the black dress?”

Me: “…Jessica Simpson.”

Customer: *smirk firmly back in place* “Yeah, her! So, what does Jessica Simpson know about fashion anyway?”

Me: “…”

Customer: “I mean, what DOES SHE KNOW about fashion? How does having a lot of money make her an expert on fashion?”

Me: “…She actually has her own line of clothing, which happens to be very popular. She’s more curvy than other stars, and her designs are more accessible to women who-”

Customer: *interrupts me* “Well, how does her being rich make her an expert on fashion? I mean, I read books; it doesn’t make me an expert on nuclear physics.”

Me: “…”

*The guy laughs obnoxiously and wanders out. Security calls me on the phone right after.*

Security: “You okay? Any trouble with that guy?”

Me: “I’m fine, he’s gone. Troll.”