It was a busy day at the supermarket where I work. I was already exhausted doing my manager’s work that they didn’t want to do themselves. I had to deliver safety supplies for the health crisis to a church as a donation from our store, and it took two trips to deliver everything.

As soon as I got back, I hopped on a register. I only had about fifteen minutes left in my shift. I just wanted to clear out the lines since it was busy for the Memorial Day weekend. As soon as I was ready to close off my register after a couple of customers, I told the last customer in my line:

Me: “I’ll be closing after you; you’ll be the last one in my line.”

Exhausted, I made the stupid mistake of asking the lady in my line to help close my line off.

Me: “Could you please pull the cord across the lane to show that it’s closed off? You can also move that mini display cart across so no one can enter.”

The cart had wheels on it and wasn’t that heavy. As soon as she started to move the display cart, she stopped.

Customer: “I’m not doing that; I am seventy years old, and I have shoulder problems. You shouldn’t be asking me to do that.”

Me: “I apologize, ma’am. I’m sorry.”

I began ringing her up.

Customer: “I’m extremely insulted. I need to speak to a manager immediately! You should never ask a customer, let alone an elderly seventy-year-old with shoulder and knee problems, to do anything of that nature.”

Me: “Again, I’m sorry, ma’am. I was unaware of your problems, and I didn’t want to assume that you were incapable. I am exhausted, and I didn’t pay attention to your attributes or your age.’

Customer: “I demand to speak to your manager! I want to tell them that you should be retrained. You should put up a sign that says that you’re closed instead of asking anyone to move things to block off the lane.”

I realize I was in the wrong about asking someone to move something to block me off. But I got so used to having a lot of different customers do it. I chose the wrong person to help me out with that.

Me: “I am sorry, ma’am.”

Customer: “That doesn’t mean anything! I need to talk to a manager.”

In my head, I wished her good luck with that because the store was busy and the manager on duty was doing other things, so she could honestly just wait there until someone shows up.

I was so upset because this lady made me feel like s*** and degraded for not assuming that she wasn’t capable of moving a small display cart on wheels. I honestly meant no harm. She didn’t even take my apology.

It is early 1992 and I am eighteen years old. I’m 5’4” and have a baby face, so I look pretty harmless. I’m working the second shift at a fast food place. The only staff present are the assistant manager, [Coworker #1] (who is also a friend), and [Coworker #2] and [Coworker #3], both working in the grill area. I’m on the front counter, and the manager and [Coworker #1] are in the drive-thru.

It’s about 7:30 pm, and there are no customers in the restaurant, and even the drive-thru is quiet. I’ve just finished cleaning the dining room and have come back behind the counter to start stocking condiments, cups, etc.

This group of four teens come up to the counter; they seem to be roughly fourteen to seventeen years of age. I take the first two orders, give them their food, and they go to sit in the dining room. The last two place their order.

Me: “Would you like anything else?”

Customer #1: “Do you have any discounts?”

Me: “Sorry, the only discount we have is a senior discount on coffee.”

[Customer #1] then pulls up his shirt.

Customer #1: “How about now?”

[Customer #2] quickly pulls [Customer #1]’s shirt back down.

Customer #2: “Don’t be stupid.”

Me: “Sorry, just the senior discount.”

They finish their order, pay, and join their friends in the dining room, and I resume stocking. [Coworker #1] goes on his break and orders food, and he waits at the end of the counter for it to be ready. I’m knelt down under the counter stocking condiments when I hear the teens in the dining room say something, and my coworker responds.

Coworker #1: “Well, if you’re going to use it, then use it.”

I look up at him with a questioning look on my face, and he just shakes his head. I shrug and continue what I am doing, and he takes his food and goes into the back. During most of the time the teens are in the restaurant, I don’t see any of my coworkers, aside from [Coworker #1].

After the teens leave, my coworkers come running out of the back and start locking doors, and the manager is on the phone with the police. I’m baffled, staring at everyone like they’ve lost their minds.

Me: “What’s going on?”

[Coworker #1] looks at me with a confused look on his face.

Coworker #1: “One of those teens had a gun.”

I’m completely shocked and my mouth drops open.

Me: “Why didn’t anyone tell me!?”

Coworker #1: “He was three feet away from you when he ordered. He also held up the gun and said to me, What if I used this?’”

Me: *Still in shock* “So, let me get this straight. These guys come in, armed, and you just let me work up here without warning me?!”

All my coworkers had seen the gun tucked into his waistband when the kid asked for a “discount” and lifted up his shirt. Apparently, my brain decided to just delete the gun image right out of my head. I thought the kid was thinking he could get a discount by just showing his chest!

To this day, even though I remember this story pretty clearly, I still have no memory of seeing the gun. I do have to wonder what these guys thought about the petite girl who looked like a kid who didn’t seem bothered by the gun at all.

The cops found the kids. It turned out the gun was fake, and the kid was fourteen. We had to go to court, and he ended up with community service.

I’m shopping for a few things for my baby. I need some help but realise there is no one wearing a uniform. In fact, I can’t recall there ever being a uniform here. I search the floor and give up. I take the rest of my things to the tills.

Cashier: “Did you find everything you needed today?”

Me: “Actually, I couldn’t find anyone to help me, so I did struggle.”

Cashier: *Really defensively* “Actually, we all wear lanyards. So maybe look out for those next time!”

Me: “You mean the lanyard that you and everyone at the tills are not wearing?”

She looked down at herself and then at her friends. None of them were wearing lanyards or anything with the company name on.

I ended up looking for the rest of my items online. I found a site way cheaper so I didn’t need to go back to the store. Eventually, I guess most people did the same, as the store closed a year later.

I am the manager on duty. An angry man approaches me.

Customer: “I want a refund on a refrigerator that you sold my wife without getting my permission first!”

The only problem? The place is having a “going out of business sale”. We have signs on each door, register, and aisle, and posted every four to five feet in each aisle denoting that fact. Every sign states, “All sales final.”

Me: “I can’t do that. All sales are final.”

He begins yelling and cursing me out. Everyone else stops and begins paying attention to the scene he’s creating.

Me: “Sir, I am warning you once to stop this behavior or you’ll be tossed from the store.”

He loudly ignores that warning, so I do, in fact, throw him out, all five feet and seven inches of me herding his over-six-foot frame out the door.

Me: “In America, I don’t need your permission to sell your wife an appliance for her kitchen when she has the checkbook.”

Everyone in the building watched little me — normally the friendly, happy, smiling one — get the man out the door without resorting to any physical contact, mouths agape in shock.

The best part is that the refrigerator was bought as a “customer pickup”, not delivery. So, if he wanted his refrigerator, he now had to hire someone, at his expense, to come and get it for him.

I’m shopping for a particular part for my car. It’s a big chain with a massive store that pushes their help and advice as part of their service. I quickly get stuck with all the choices and wander around looking for a member of staff. I find no one, not even at the till. 

I find someone at the audio desk. He apologises as he can’t help, but he calls for someone on the tannoy. When that doesn’t work, he calls an internal number.

Worker: “I’m sorry, no one is answering.”

Me: “Where is everyone? Is there some sort of emergency?”

Worker: “No, I really don’t know. Sorry. There should be at least three people at all times.”

Me: “Thanks. I’m going to wait by the till. If they get back to you, can you send them over?”

I wait and wait. I need the part and have a long drive ahead that I don’t want to do without it. I go back to the audio desk and he tries again. He starts to get visibly annoyed at his coworkers and cannot apologise enough.

Fed up, I make a call to the first regional number I find.

Me: “I’ve been at [Store] for… thirty-five minutes, and I haven’t seen any member of staff outside of the audio guy. No one is on the tills or watching the exits. Can you help?”

Whatever they did worked, as three members of staff were suddenly available, even if they looked like they were half-asleep. The kicker was they knew less about cars than I did, so they were no help!

I guessed and bought what turned out to be the wrong thing, but I managed to make my journey anyway.