I Don’t Work Here… Yet!

I’m in college. I tend to dress somewhat interestingly — not odd, but enough that I stand out and tend to look a bit dapper.

One day, I’m out shopping with a friend, and she wants to pop into a clothing store. I’m standing outside the dressing room while my friend tries something on. This woman walks up to me and just assumes I work there. I get this a lot, actually.

Customer: “I don’t think I’m going to get this shirt. Can I just hand this to you? And do I need to get a number to try these three on?”

Me: *Taking the shirt* “You know, I don’t think you need a number, but…”

I spot a girl in a headset standing next to a Go Back rack.

Me: “…I believe she works here. Let me ask.”

Customer: *Laughing* “Oh, I’m sorry. You’re just dressed so fancy.”

Me: “Thank you, and it’s no trouble at all. I’m just waiting for my friend, anyway.”

I walk up to the attendant.

Me: “Excuse me, does she need a number to use the dressing rooms?”

Attendant: “Oh, no.” *To the woman* “You’re fine; go on in!”

Me: “Oh, perfect. And can I just leave this top with you? I guess she decided she didn’t want it.”

Attendant: “Yeah, sure.”

My friend finally comes out.

Friend: “Who did I hear you talking to?”

Me: “Oh, a customer confused me for an employee.”

Just then, the floor manager comes up because he’s apparently been watching the whole thing.

Manager: “You handled that very well. Would you like to work here?”

It just so happened that I was looking for a new job — my current boss was horrible — so I said sure. I filled out an application as a formality and started within a week.