Bad Customer Number One

(The store I work in is being re-modeled and the closest bathrooms are downstairs.)

Customer: “Where is the bathroom?”

Me: “Downstairs. The elevators are just over there.”

Customer: “Is it far? My son really has to go.”

Me: “It’ll take you two minutes to get there.”

Customer: “I don’t think he’ll make it.”

(She walks away at this point with her son. I turn to my coworkers to figure out who is going to clean the jean wall, empty the dressing rooms, and straighten the tables. I do the jeans.)

Coworker: “OH, MY GOD! I JUST TOUCHED PEE PEE!”

(She really says, ”pee pee,” as it is the kids department. The woman has let her son pee on the clothes in the dressing room. I put trash bags on my hands and grab the trash can.)

Me: “I’ll pick it up. They could have peed on the cheap clothes. He peed on the Dockers.”

(That’s when I picked up the top pair and found the poo poo.)