Complaining For The Devil Of It

(I am serving a customer who is buying shoes. She has come in with her daughter, no older than six. She is really nice to me until she spots a necklace I am wearing that my mother bought me for good luck. It is a moonstone with a pentagram above it, traditionally a pagan symbol for good luck before it was associated with Satanism.)

Customer: “ARE YOU A SATANIST?!”

Me: “… pardon??”

Customer: “You’re wearing a satanic symbol around your neck! You’re a Satanist! How can you wear that and be hired here?”

(The customers daughter looks very shocked and looks at me worryingly, mostly startled by what her mother had just said.)

Me: “I’m sorry, I’m not. This necklace was a gift from my mother. The symbol was originally pagan as a symbol of good luck and other nice things. It later got associated with Satanism, although it really isn’t anything to do with Satanism at all. I am no Satanist. I did not mean to startle you.”

Customer’s Daughter: *smiles and looks relieved* “It’s very pretty.”

Customer: *huffs and glares at me* “Well, it traumatises children! You should never wear that filth to work!”

(The customer stormed out of the store, fuming, dragging her confused daughter along with her. I chose to keep wearing the necklace every day as she was the only customer who had a problem with it.)