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Giving You A S-ink-ing Feeling

, , , , | Right | CREDIT: octopotacto | August 18, 2021

I am in an office supply store buying some notebooks for my classes that just started. I’m walking toward the checkout when I hear an exasperated voice.

Lady: “Ma’am. MA’AM!”

I turn and see a little old lady with a Ziploc bag of ink cartridges in her hand and her mask around her chin. She waves me over to her and starts asking me if “we” have any of whatever specific ink cartridge she is looking for. She claims to have been looking for several minutes, but she doesn’t see it, so could I maybe look and help her, or go look in the back?

I am wearing a long sweater and some black leggings, and I have on my Halloween mask in January. I am dressed for a job I neither have nor want.

Me: “I don’t work here, but I can go get someone who does for you!”

It falls on uncaring ears. She physically grabs my forearm as I try to turn away.

Lady: “Will another brand work with a [Brand] printer? I need to print!”

I tell her, truthfully, that I have no idea, but that I can find an actual employee who does. Apparently, this is the wrong answer.

Lady: “Why in the h*** do you work here if you don’t know anything?!

Me: “Again… I do not work here.”

Lady: “Whatever. Go get one of your little friends from behind the counter; maybe they’ll know since you don’t. This place hires people without even seeing if they know anything about computers.”

Honey, first of all, a computer and a printer are very different. Secondly, I cannot speak to this store’s hiring process or their candidate vetting. Lastly, and perhaps most importantly… I STILL DON’T WORK HERE. So, I go grab my “coworker” and explain the situation to him. We share a little laugh over it, and he goes to receive what I am sure is more abuse. I proceed to the checkout, thinking my adventure over and lamenting that my boyfriend isn’t here to laugh about it with me.

However, while I’m checking out, on the CUSTOMER side of the counter, I hear a very elderly and accusing voice.

Lady: “THAT’S her!”

I turn and, of course, there she is, a manager in tow. She’s pointing at me, blaming me for being incompetent, rude, underdressed, inappropriately masked — every nitpicky thing you could imagine, all to this poor employee who obviously has no idea who I am.

Manager: “Uh. Ma’am. She… she is a customer here. She’s not one of my employees.”

She called the MANAGER on me, a customer, over INK. She ranted for a few minutes, insisted that we were all lying about me not working there in order to “cover up” the problem, and then stormed out with her little Ziploc bag of used cartridges. And I gained a funny little story to tell my friends at Dungeons & Dragons that night!