(I have just ticked over the twelve-month mark as a store manager for a nationwide video game retailer. My predecessor was quite spineless and let customers walk all over our staff, including encouraging them to break policy for refunds and the like. To help rebuild staff morale, I have given every full-time staff member one “f*** off” a year. If a customer is being difficult or belligerent, the staff member can tell the customer to f*** off and ban them from the store. I will back my team all the way to corporate if they use this, because I know they have the store’s best interest at heart. I am the first one to use this, in the last month. A man approaches my register with a new release game, marked at full price.)

Customer: “I want to do a deal with you guys. [Competitor #1] across the mall have this game for $79.” *$20 cheaper than us* “But, if you promise to sell it to me for $59, I’ll buy another two game from you that are worth $50. What do you say?”

Me: “I’m sorry, if you can find the game cheaper elsewhere then I recommend you go for it as I can’t reduce the price beyond a price match.”

Customer: “Okay, then. Okay, then. I know that [Competitor #2] is selling this game at $59. Will you beat that?”

Me: “No, because according to their website they’re selling the game at $85.”

Customer: “Oh, it’s one of those special ‘in-store only’ sales! It’s not online!”

Me: “Odd. When were you there?”

Customer: “About ten minutes ago.”

Me: “Hmm, well, I was there around half an hour ago on my break. I didn’t see that sticker. Either they did it in the last 20 minutes, or you misread the sign.”

Customer: “Listen. I am a very rich man and I shop here all the time. The owner of this store would be pissed if he knew what you were doing to me. I. Want. This. Game. For. $59. Got. It.?”

Me: “I will sell the game to you at $85 for a price match. No less.”

Customer: “I’m going to call your boss and see what he says.” *pulls out his phone*

Me: *picks up store phone before he has finished dialing* “You’re talking to the boss. F*** off.”

Customer: *shocked* “I… uh… What did you say to me?”

Me: “Sorry, sir, I didn’t recognise you. Can I have your loyalty card, please?”

(The customer hands over his card and I scan it.)

Me: “Okay, thanks for that, Mr. [Customer]. As manager of this store, I inform you that you are no longer welcome on-site for displaying threatening behaviour. Now, f*** off before I call security.”

(My staff stood there with jaws open as he turned and left the store. I updated his loyalty account with details of his banning. One of my team used his “f*** off” the next week on a group of teenagers who were trying to jimmy our shelving racks. We have one staff member with one left; he reckons he’s saving his for Christmas.)

I am a woman. I had just finished my degree, and I got a job as a researcher, basically writing software to test concepts, being paid from a professor’s research budget. There were basically two types of staff in the department: the technical staff and the admin/support staff. The technical staff — teachers, researchers, and computer support — were mostly male, scruffily-dressed, varying from shorts and flip-flops to Oxford-Don-ish tweed suits with elbow patches. The female techies and teachers dressed similarly: jeans, hoodies, typical undergraduate kit. The support staff were four women who looked after student and enrolment issues, correspondence, assisting the department chair, etc. They all dressed well: hair, makeup, high heels, dresses – thoroughly well-presented.

One day, I decided to mix it up and dress how I would when I eventually got a job in industry — heels, skirt, a whisper of femininity. That day was a strange one. I will give two examples.

I went into the photocopy/print room where one of the male lecturers was making copies. Without looking up, he said, “Is the chairman in today?” “How would I know?” I replied. He looked up to face me for the first time and said, startled, “Oh, [My Name]! It’s you!”

Later that day, my boss was talking to the chairman in the corridor. I approached my boss to ask him a question, and the chairman — remember, I do not work for him or the department and he has four people who do — handed me a pile of papers and said, “Can you make me a copy of this, please?”

I just stared at him in shock and quickly mounting anger. My boss detected what was about to happen and snatched them and said, “I will do it.” It’s no more his job than mine, and he is the most senior person in the department under the chair, but there was no sexism in his doing it.

I learned my lesson: nice clothes are for the weekend, and jeans and T-shirts are the only way to be treated like a professional. That was the only time the chair treated me like I was part of his support team.

It’s still mostly true in IT: dressing down is a power move, e.g. Mark Zuckerberg. No tech billionaire ever dresses like they have infinite money.

(I’m a retail worker who works the counter at the gaming and entertainment area of a major Australian retailer. One quiet Sunday, a young couple approaches my desk with a video game box — we keep all discs locked in drawers behind the counter — and I approach them to serve.)

Me: “Hi, guys, how can I help you today?”

(The male customer holds out the game case, going oddly silent.)

Me: “Just this one?”

Male Customer: “Yes, thanks.”

Me: “No worries, guys; won’t be a minute.”

(As I head to the back of my counter to get the game for them, they start their conversation back up whispering quickly and quietly behind my back. After retrieving the game, I head back to the counter and they fall silent again. I start to ring them up.)

Male Customer: “Hey, mate, can we buy this stuff here, too?” *holds up a basket full of small items*

Me: “Of course!”

(As our store has a policy that customers can be served at any register regardless of what they’re buying, I begin to scan the rest of their items, all the while the customers are whispering furiously between them. Suddenly, the male customer turns quickly and looks me dead in the eye.)

Male Customer: “Hey, buddy, can this—” *holds up hair dye* “—be used on pubic hair?”

(The female customer turns beet red, whimpers, and begins to walk quickly away.) 

Male Customer: “[FEMALE CUSTOMER], COME BACK! I’M JUST TRYING TO MAKE SURE YOU DON’T HURT YOURSELF!”

Me: “Uh… I’m sorry, but that’s not really something that I have any knowledge about; perhaps the girls in cosmetics can help you out.”

(Minutes later, the couple walked back past my desk, the girl still clearly embarrassed. The guy, looking excited, grabbed the hair dye out of the bag and held it up for me to see, enthusiastically giving a thumbs up. The nine or so customers at my desk who had witnessed the conversation before all promptly burst out laughing while the guy walked off waving.)

My sister is getting married. As her fiancé was raised Catholic, they’re having a Catholic wedding. Our side of the family is Christian, too, but we’re not familiar with Catholic rites or services, being a variety of other denominations. In addition, most of the friends of the bride and groom aren’t religious and so also aren’t familiar with Catholic practises.

Regardless of our inexperience, everything goes smoothly and my sister and her fiancé exchange vows and rings. The priest then invites my now brother-in-law to kiss his wife.

Awaiting the classic “I now pronounce you husband and wife” line which isn’t actually used, the guests don’t quite realise that this is the big moment and there are a few heartbeats of silence.

“There’s usually a big cheer right about here,” the priest prompts, and we all start clapping.

“We’d better try that again!” the priest jokes, inviting my brother-in-law to kiss his wife again.

This time we raise the roof with claps, cheers, and laughter!

(We have ordinary trolleys as well as flat-bed trolleys for large items. The flat-beds are supposed to be pulled along as the steering is in the back wheels. We tell customers this when we see them struggling. On this day, my coworker notices a lady heading out of the store having a lot of trouble pushing her flat-bed trolley.)

Coworker: *with a smile* “Those trolleys are a lot easier to pull along behind you, ma’am. The steering is in the back wheels. You’ll find it easier if you spin it around.”

Customer: “No! The customer is always right! I’m so sick of people telling me how to push my bloody trolley!”

(My coworker had not had any previous interactions with this customer, so her outburst was completely out of the blue!)