Feel Sorry For Their Pets!

(We have a group of regular customers — a family — who are just awful to assist. Basically, if you can think of a rude customer behavior, they do it. They don’t respect personal space, they make inappropriate jokes, they trash the store, they harass other customers, and in the end, they rarely actually buy anything. One of the sons has what the father calls “super autism.” No one really feels comfortable correcting him when he does something because the father goes nuts, even if we’re justified. On this particular day, I am the lucky associate they spot first.)

Dad: *snaps his fingers at me* “Hey, come here.”

Manager: “Deep breath, [My Name]. Use your walkie if you need help.”

Dad: “I said come here, girl.” *he whistles at me*

Me: *inhale, exhale* “How can I help you?”

(The dad continues to talk down to me — “retail is for dropouts and [disabled slur]s” — while hitting on me — “those pants make your a** look great” — at the same time. Meanwhile, his children are sticking their hands in the fish tanks to “catch fish,” pulling items off the shelves and out of the packaging, and going up to strangers’ dogs and petting them without asking. I’ve asked them not to do any of that and called for extra help to keep them in line, but no one has answered except the angry dad. Finally, he says he wants something from the overstock above the top shelf. I go to fetch the ladder and ask my manager to stand nearby. I am at my limit with this man and know I will need someone to take over before I lose it. She stands in the next aisle over, trying to calm the children and prevent more damage.)

Me: “Okay, this one?” 

(I pull down a bag of food and he grabs it from my hands.)

Dad: “No.” *throws it on the floor* “Pick that up before someone trips.”

Me: “Of course. Which food did you want?”

Dad: “If you’d listen the first time, this wouldn’t be a problem.”

(I climb back up the ladder.)

Me: “Okay, which one?”

Dad: “What would happen if I shook this ladder right now? Do you think you’d fall?”

Me: “Please don’t touch the ladder, sir.”

Dad: “Don’t tell me what to do, you dumb c***.”

Me: “Sir, I’m trying to help you. Please don’t talk to me like that.”

Dad: “No, you’re being a b****!”

(He grabs the ladder and shakes it, jerking it sideways and almost out from under me. I grab the shelf in front of me and he laughs. I decide enough is enough and get off the ladder. Job be d***ed, no one is allowed to treat me like that. He is right there, inches from my face.)

Dad: “Is there a problem?”

Me: “Leave.”

Dad: “Excuse me?”

Me: “I said leave. Get out.”

Dad: “F*** you! You can’t tell me what to do.”

(Finally, my manager steps around the aisle.)

Manager: “Sir, you’re absolutely right.”

Me: “What?!”

Manager: “She can’t kick you out of the store. That’s above her pay grade.”

Dad: “Told you, you snotty little s***.”

Manager: “But it is within mine. While we do strive to make every customer happy, I never want to see you or your children again. If you return, I will call the police.”

(The dad stands there, bright red and fuming. He turns on his heel and stomps past me, shoving me into the shelf on his way through. He grabs his children by their jackets and hauls them out of the store, knocking over multiple displays along the way.)

Manager: “I know we’re supposed to be helpful to everyone, but that was beyond unacceptable.”

Me: “That’s how he always is.”

Manager: “I’m sorry I didn’t step in sooner.”

Me: “It’s okay. It’s over now. One less a**hole.”

(He later called corporate and told a story about how he was just trying to get help but I was uncooperative and hostile toward him and his “[disabled slur] kid” the whole time. When it came to our manager to handle, she replied with video footage of him moving the ladder and shoving me into the shelf, and written statements from nearly every employee about his and his family’s behaviors. He was banned from all locations.)