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I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 44

, , , , , | Right Working | May 25, 2022

I, and several friends, are in a [Big Box Store] far from home, some time ago. For the record, I’m black, as are my friends.

I am looking at cookware, totally oblivious to most of the world around me. Out of nowhere, an old white lady begins to screech at me, demanding that I get a box down from a high shelf. 

Me: *Clearly and precisely* “Ma’am, I don’t work here.”

I go back to my shopping.

The woman launches herself down the aisle at me, screaming at the top of her lungs, saying things about how I’d better do what she says or she’ll have me fired. Now I’m annoyed, but I’m also curious to see what she’ll do next.

She reaches me, raises her little handbag as if to strike with it, and then stands there like that, as though I’m supposed to cower. I’m halfway between disgusted and wanting to pee myself with laughter. I cross my arms and look at her, only a little “bring it on” in my eyes. I mean, she’s barely up to my chin.

A manager comes running, apparently having heard the screeching. 

Old Lady: “The [n-word] girl didn’t come when I called. What are you going to do about it?”

The manager, apparently not too bright a bulb himself, immediately begins to dress me down, yammering about how the customer is always right and how dare I. Eventually, he winds down.

I stick out my hand for the manager to shake.

Me: “Hi. We’ve never met. My name is [My Name]. We’ve never met because I don’t work here!

I then hand him, one at a time, all the things in my hands, which I intended to purchase, so he’s standing there, mouth hanging open, with this awkward armful of product.

Me: *To the manager, very calmly* “You’re an idiot.” *To the old lady, smiling* “Piss off, you decrepit old hag.”

By this point, we’ve drawn a bit of a crowd, including my friends who were several aisles away when it all began.

Me: *To my friends* “We will not be purchasing anything here, as apparently, [n-words] aren’t particularly valued, as customers or employees.”

Everyone in my friend group promptly abandoned everything they’d been carrying, and we all walked out the door empty-handed. I don’t know if the manager tried to call after us, as I had a ringing in my ears that blocked out anything else but my own anger.

We never returned to that location since it was far from our homes, but we did make a phone call about what had happened to us. The store practically fell all over themselves apologizing and promising to take care of it.

Related:
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 43
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 42
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 41
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 40
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 39

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