Not Feline That I Don’t Work Here

(I am a well-known sales associate in a toy shop in a shopping centre. We get one-hour lunch breaks, so I tend to change out of my uniform completely to go for a wander. Today I leave the centre to buy lunch at a large shop directly across the road. While I’m inside browsing in the cold food section, a middle-aged female customer grabs my arm. I’m wearing a bright blue jumper with a happy Christmas cat.)

Customer: “Wait up. Where’s the smoked salmon?”

Me: *turning around so it is 100% apparent I’m not wearing any form of uniform* “Wait, what? Sorry, I don’t work here.”

Customer: *still clutching my arm hard* “You’re a cashier! It won’t take long. I’m in a hurry!”

(I pull my arm away, pinched my jumper with both hands, and wiggle it so the cat on the front is very obvious. Then I say, in a small voice to emulate the cat:)

Me: “She. Doesn’t. Work. Here. Are. You. Mad. Don’t. Touch. Strangerssss.”

(The woman rolled her eyes, called me a lazy c***, and tried to flag an onlooking employee to report me, who was holding back hysterics watching the whole thing.)