Don’t Get Short With Me!

I’m a 5’3″ woman. An older man — around his late fifties or early sixties — comes in to return some items. The counter at our customer service is pretty high. He sets most of his stuff where I can reach it, and then he sets a bag of chips just out of my reach. I get what I can.

Me: “Sir, could you hand me that bag?”

Customer: “It’s right there.”

Me: “I can’t reach it.”

Customer: “You didn’t even try.”

I try to reach it and can’t.

Me “Sir, I’m short and can’t reach it.”

Customer: “You young people don’t know how to work hard.”

I am annoyed but not mad. He two-finger pushes the bag over less than an inch.

Customer: “There you go.”

This pisses me off, so I stop talking to him and call for a manager. When they come up:

Customer: “She’s being rude and should just do her job.”

Me: “I don’t like to be belittled.”

My manager dealt with him after that. I am thirty-four and have been doing retail for a decade and a half. Not exactly “young.” I’m still mad.