Customers Are Cry-Babies

(I work in a clothing store with 3 floors, and the fitting rooms are on the top floor. I have been chatting with a customer, admiring her adorable baby. Five minutes later, I notice the stroller is in the corner, baby fast asleep, but the mother is nowhere to be seen.)

Me: *on the store walkies* “Hey, guys, I’ve got a sleeping baby downstairs and the mother doesn’t seem to be down here. She’s blonde with a cool red leather jacket. Can anyone see her on their floor?”

Colleague: “Yeah, I just put her in a fitting room up here! Let me check in with her. I didn’t know she had a kid with her!”

(A couple of minutes pass.)

Colleague: “Yeah… She’s ‘just trying on a couple things and will be back in a minute.'”

Manager: “Um, no. Can you let her know that we are not responsible for her child, and she needs to come downstairs right away? We have a customer lift so she can bring the stroller up to the fitting rooms.”

Me: “Oh, god, it’s crying. What do I do?”

(I enjoy the cuteness of babies, but they freak me out.)

Colleague: “She’s on her way down, and she is NOT happy.”

Me: “Neither is her baby!”

(The customer comes stomping down the stairs, various items of clothing hanging off of her.)

Customer: “WHAT DID YOU DO?! SHE WAS SLEEPING!”

Me: “Ma’am, I haven’t touched the stroller at all, but you really can’t leave your child unat—”

Customer: “Ugh, well, of COURSE she’s crying. You need to rock the stroller back and forth! God!! What kind of idiot are you?!”

(My manager appears, as if by magic.)

Manager: “Ma’am, my staff are not your babysitting service. We have elevators and large fitting rooms specifically for our customers who want to bring their children while they shop. We will be as accommodating as possible, but you cannot just leave your baby down here without saying a word. Frankly, I don’t understand why you would want to leave her with a complete stranger. Please stop shouting at my employee. Honestly, the noise is just making your baby cry more.”

(The customer gapes like a fish for a minute, embarrassed, mutters a rather sulky apology, and goes back upstairs – with the baby, this time.)

Me: “You’re a lifesaver.”

Manager: “Why would she leave that baby here? You could be a psychopath for all she knows.”

Me: “…Thanks?”