I Don’t See Race – Or Receipts

(I work in a high-end clothing store. On this day a customer I served a few days earlier walks up to my register with an expensive dress.)

Customer: “Hey, I bought this from you and it didn’t fit me. I’ve got the receipt and spoke with the person who served me, and they said you’d give me a full cash refund?”

Me: “Uh, actually, I’m the one who served you, and no, I didn’t say that.”

Customer: *pauses* “Uh… Really?”

Me: “If you look at the top of your receipt, it says who served you.” *points out where* “See? my name’s right there.”

Customer: “Really? That was you?”

(I tap my name tag.)

Me: “I am, indeed, the one who served you, and I’m afraid that, no, we can’t give you cash back for this, as you purchased the item with a gift card. If you want to return it, we’ll have to give you your money back the same way.”

Customer: “Uh… Well… You know… You guys all look the same to me, so I thought… uh… I mean… D***, guess that’s dead in the water now.”

(She slunk out in defeat. For the record, I have olive skin and black hair from my Italian heritage, and my coworkers include a pale redhead, two Asians, and an African American. Still not sure whether it’s good or bad that a customer apparently deemed us all to be no different from each other.)