Getting Into Boy Trouble

| USA | Related | September 24, 2016

(My family runs an antique business, which my brother and I have helped with since we were in elementary school. At a show, I’m watching the booth with my dad and a couple walk up to the cases. I’m a girl, early 20s, with short hair.)

Me: “Hi, can I help you with something?”

Male Customer: “Yes, Can I see—” *points to antique in case*

(I pull some antiques out for him, quote some prices, and he asks about other pieces of the same type. My dad takes over from here, and takes them into the booth where the other pieces are, and I go back to my watching spot, reading. At some point, the wife of the male customer walks up to me.)

Wife: “I’m sorry; he didn’t mean it.”

Me: *slightly confused, thinking about something to do with the antiques* “Oh, that’s ok. It happens.” *I go back to reading*

(A few minutes later, when the customers have left, my dad hugs me.)

Dad: “I’m sorry, honey.”

Me: *really confused at this point* “Um, okay, it’s all right, dad.”

(A few minutes later, a different female customer, who was here at the same time as the couple comes up to me.)

Female Customer: “He’s not right, you know. You really don’t look like a boy.”

(At this point, I put the pieces together. The male customer had a conversation that had gone something like this:)

Male Customer: “That’s a nice young man you have with you. Is he your son?”

Dad: *slightly embarrassed* “That’s my daughter…”

Male Customer: *even more embarrassed* “I… um… she’s very nice!”

(They didn’t end up buying anything.)

Installed The “Lies” Plug-In

| CA, USA | Right | June 14, 2016

(I work at an antique store but sometimes we get electronics and modern merchandise in the store. I always greet customers when I’m working as cashier since the registers are right in front of the door. This woman walks in and I greet her, but she just glares at me. I knew she would be trouble.)

Customer: “Hi. I was wondering how can I find out if this actually works?” *she has an old phone in her hand*

Me: “Well, what does it say on the tag?”

Customer: “I already read the f****** tag. It doesn’t say anything besides the description of the phone.”

Me: “Well, unfortunately, ma’am, in order for me to find out whether this phone works or not, I would have to unplug the telephone cord. That would turn off our fax machine and our credit card machine, so unfortunately, I can’t tell you if it works.”

Customer: “Well, isn’t there another store I can go to and ask them if they’ll unplug their lines for me?”

Me: “I can assure you that no businesses around here will be willing to unplug their lines to plug in a phone that doesn’t belong to them.”

Customer: “Don’t f****** lie to me, you b****! The other store I went to said they would unplug their lines for me!”

Me: “We’re not affiliated with that store, ma’am. I’m not allowed to walk over there and ask them to unplug their lines.”

Customer: “Well, no wonder you’re such a fat b****! You can’t even walk a couple of blocks to help me?! I want to speak to your manager immediately! Why would she ever hire a fat little s*** like you?! What kind of store is this?! I want to speak to the owner. You’ll get fired, just see!”

Me: “No problem, ma’am. I’ll have my manager meet with you shortly.”

Manager: “What’s the problem, ma’am?”

Customer: “This stupid employee of yours was extremely rude to me! I want her fired immediately!”

Manager: “What has she done to you?”

Customer: “She REFUSED to plug this phone in for me.”

Manager: “Ma’am, I heard the whole conversation. There is no need to lie about someone who’s young enough to be your granddaughter. If you like the other store so much, I suggest you find your phone there.”

Customer: “You’re all racist! I’m calling the person who owns this place! I’ll Yelp how terrible you and your employees are!”

(She promptly left the store, red faced and embarrassed. I never did find that Yelp review, though.)

All Other Mammals Get Boned

| Lincoln, NE, USA | Working | February 5, 2016

(My mum and I have been wandering through our favourite antique store. I’ve found some things of interest, and join my mum at a case where she’s looking at some jewelry. I realize there’s a bone in the display case that I hadn’t seen before, and as my mum’s looking at a brooch, this occurs.)

Me: “Can I see the walrus tusk?”

Associate #1: “Uh… sure!” *there’s a pause as she reaches in* “Hey, uh, [Associate #2], is this the uh… is the walrus thing-thing thing?”

Associate #2: *from about fifteen feet away* “Huh?”

Associate #1: “The walrus… y’know… thing!”

Associate #2: “Hold on,” *she approaches and glances into the case, then looks back up at her coworker* “Yeah, that’s it.”

Me: “I feel like I should be a bit worried.”

Associate #1: “Well, it’s, uh… it’s a walrus’s penis.”

Me: *I realize I misidentified the object* “Oh, a baculum!”

Associate #2: “Huh?”

Me: “A baculum – a ‘penis bone.’ It’s found in mammals, but not in humans.” *laughing* “Sorry, I’m a biologist, so this stuff doesn’t really bother me.”

Associate #1: “Wait, it’s THAT long?!”

Associate #2: “Well, I mean, you know how big walruses can get.”

(I didn’t have the heart to tell them that a blue whale’s baculum could get up to eight feet in length…)

More Than A Touch Of Obnoxiousness

| GA, USA | Right | December 23, 2015

(It’s near to closing time, and I’m at the front counter alone while my coworker takes a bathroom break. A woman comes in with a man, presumably her boyfriend; she goes upstairs while the man browses near the desk. I hear a guitar-like sound and look up to see that the man is strumming on a homemade banjo-like instrument which is labeled, ‘PLEASE DO NOT PLAY.’)

Me: “Sir, please don’t touch that.”

Man: *politely* “I’m sorry. I thought it was for sale.”

Me: “It is, but the dealer put that sign on it because it’s really fragile.”

Man: “Okay. Sorry.”

(The man wanders off upstairs. My coworker returns, and I gather up the paperwork to do the end-of-day report in the office. As I head back, the woman comes stomping down the stairs with the man behind her. She brandishes a small glass lamp.)

Woman: *angrily* “I TOUCHED this, but since I’m BUYING it, I guess it’s okay, right?”

Me: *stunned* “Ma’am, we don’t mind at all, but sometimes dealers put signs on more delicate or expensive items to help prevent accidents. I’m sorry.”

(The lady proceeds to the counter. I put the paperwork in the office and return to the front, sensing that the customer will be trouble. Sure enough, the woman is muttering under her breath and glaring. I help my coworker wrap the lamp and give it to the woman. She and the man make their way toward the door. My coworker, who is a sweet elderly lady and perfectly polite, notices that the customer has left her receipt crumpled on the counter.)

Coworker: “Ma’am, you forgot your receipt!”

Woman: *whirls to face us* “No, I don’t WANT it. You can put it in the TRASH, along with that piece of s*** over there!” *points at the instrument*

Me: “…Have a wonderful day. And a Merry Christmas.”

Woman: “Yeah, yeah, you too!” *leaves*

(The man never said a word!)

Freedom Isn’t Free

| Upland, CA, USA | Related | December 6, 2015

(My dad and I are shopping, when we see an eagle statue for sale.)

Dad: “Need an eagle?”

Me: “No, I’ve already got enough freedom at home.”

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