Respect The Uniform

(I work at an outdoor/clothing store over the summer sale period, and my uniform consists of a bright red, high neck sale top. Note: I am a female, and am fairly large-breasted. I am at the counter, scanning a customer’s order through. The customer is a middle-aged leering man, and is with a friend. He is nodding at me and laughing with his friend, motioning with his hands in pretend breasts. I decide to ignore this, as I have dealt with this before and I don’t really care too much. The customer continues laughing and staring.)

Customer: “God, I bet you’re a dirty s***.”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “Yeah you heard. Look at you, with your big boobs; you must be. You’re such a s*** with your tight uniform. I hate people like you.”

(I am slightly fuming at this stage, and shocked.)

Me: “Let me put this to you straight: the only person who is going to lose anything from this is you; do you know why?”

(The customer starts to argue, but I cut in.)

Me: “Yes, my uniform is tight, but it is a t-shirt in my normal size. If you look around at my other employees, you will see that they too wear the same uniform as me. I don’t choose what I wear here. It may look different on my body compared to another’s; it’s called body shape. You think having big breasts is a choice I made? I had no control over the growth of them, just as you have no control over your receding hairline. Finally, I have the right to not serve you at all. Being rude to staff by offending their lifestyle, which you know nothing about, or over how they look doesn’t make me want to serve you. If you want, I can void this order and return everything to the shelves.”

(The customer looks shocked, and is bright red. He says nothing.)

Me: “Do you have any points of an argument as to why you felt the need to discriminate me by my body shape? If so, I would love to hear them…”

(The customer stills says nothing.)

Me: “Would you like me to continue to scan your items? At the moment, for me, it’s still a no.”

Customer: “Yes, please. I’m sorry.”

Me: “Well, I suppose that will have to do. I hope you learn some god-d*** respect.”

(I finish scanning his items, and he leaves with his friend. My manager, who is serving next to me, looks at me and laughs.)

Manager: “I was going to say something to him, but you got there first. I couldn’t have said anything better than you just did.”