I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 33

, , , , | | Right | May 25, 2018

(I work at a sports shop, and have gone straight from there to an electronics shop, so I can help my dad find the cable he needs. My uniform is very distinct, a bright red polo — with the shop’s name in very big letters on the back — and navy joggers, so as to look sporty. The uniform in the electronics shop is a black dress shirt and dress trousers, so as to look professional. I am currently facing a wall, so I have my back to everyone in the shop. I’m quite irritable due to having a bad shift and having no sleep, and it must be noted I am weird with people touching me depending on how much I know them — strangers often get shouted at and hurt. My dad very rarely intervenes because he know I can handle myself, but will do something if he sees it’s getting out of control. We’re both big swearers.)

Me: “Hey, Dad, pass me that—”

Customer #1: “Excuse me. Can you help me?”

Me: *ignoring them, as I don’t think they’re talking to me* “Pass us that one; I can’t see it from here.”

Customer #1: *taps my shoulder* “EXCUSE ME!”

Me: *CLEARLY irritated by being touched* “What? I don’t work here.”

Customer #1: “I want that TV.”

Me: “Good for you.”

(I turn back around to help my dad, but the customer grabs my shoulder, so I push away from him a little.)

Me: “What the f*** are you playing at? Touch me again and—”

Customer #1: “I want that TV; it’s your job to get it for me. I want to speak to your manager.”

Me: “Well, go into f****** town and talk to her, then.”

Customer #1: “GO GET HER FOR ME!”

Dad: “Listen, mate, she doesn’t work here; she’s helping me because she’s my f****** daughter. Don’t talk to her like that.”

Customer #1: “I’m a paying customer. I demand to speak to your manager.”

Me: “Then go into town and speak to her. I don’t work here; she doesn’t work here. Nobody I work with works here, because I work at [Shop]. Leave me alone before I call the police for harassment and assault.”

Customer #1: “FINE! I’ll find your manager.”

(We don’t see him again. Three minutes later, my back is still facing the shop.)

Customer #2: “Excuse me, miss.”

Me: “Not again.” *turns around*

Customer #2: “Oh! You don’t work here; I’m so sorry.”

Me: “Oh, thank f***.”

Related:
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 32
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 31
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 30

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