(I am helping a woman out when another woman who has been here for hours approaches the counter with multiple baskets of jewelry.)

Customer: “I’d like to check out.”

Me: “I’m sorry, I’m with another customer. However, my coworker is free on the Misses side registers; that way there’s more room for you to put the jewelry so you can finish faster.”

(She leaves, and later I get a call from the coworker I sent her to.)

Coworker: “What did you say to that woman?”

Me: “I told her that I was with another customer and I sent her to you to check out since you had no line. Why?”

Coworker: “She said you were rude and refused to help her. She got so heated up that she stopped the transaction halfway through and she is coming over to check out in jewelry.”

(The woman comes back and sits on the floor in the middle of the department. She starts detangling the jewelry she didn’t buy, on the floor, for a good half hour until I call the manager over.)

Manager: “Ma’am, I’m sorry but you can’t do that. You are taking up too much room and this could be a tripping hazard to the other customers.”

Customer: “Well, is she finally ready to check me out?”

Me: “Ma’am, I could’ve checked you out the entire time you decided to sit there and sort and fix your jewelry. You also could’ve been gone by now if you had just checked out all at once.”

(My manager offers to help me check her out since she is a little crazy.)

Customer: “I want you to single-bag every item, please.”

(She has over $300 worth of clearance jewelry. We start to ring her out and she starts to make conversation.)

Customer: “So, I’m retired, but I’m bored, so I keep trying to find jobs, but I’m too overqualified. I worked several high-ranking government jobs, and now just regular retail places won’t hire me because of how competent I am.”

(My manager and I shoot each other looks at this.)

Customer: “I was so glad when I started to talk to [Other Manager] earlier and she offered me an interview for jewelry. It would be so fun to work here.”

(She keeps bragging about herself and how she can’t wait to start working here. When we get to the end, she swipes her card and it declines.)

Manager: “Do you have any other form of payment?”

Customer: “No, let’s go through them and I’ll figure out what all I want.”

(We have to void the whole order and unbag every single f****** piece of jewelry again while she decides what she wants and keeps talking about what a great person she is. She finally leaves after being in my department alone for a good hour and a half.)

Me: “So, when are you going to set up that interview?”

Manager: “I am going to kill [Other Manager]. She invited crazy into here and now she’s going to keep coming back asking about an interview!”

(After graduating university, I work in a slightly posh clothing concession in a department store in a small, but rather fancy town. The store closes at 5:30 pm and is absolutely closed at 6:00 pm, even if we have to politely remove the customers. One afternoon, a customer and her husband walk in at 5:00 pm and my heart sinks. After a while in retail, you recognise the type: extremely high-maintenance and full of their own importance. I do actually recognise the customers as acquaintances of my dad’s; they clearly don’t recognise me at all. I spend over an hour with the lady as she tries to squeeze into incorrectly chosen clothes while screaming and throwing tantrums. Both of them generally behave like d**ks. I’ve finally had enough and remind them of the the closing policy of the department store, pointing out that the whole store is waiting for them to leave. The husband uses the legendary phrase:)

Husband: “Don’t you know who I am?”

Me: “Yes, Mr. [Husband], I know exactly who you are. Do you know who I am? I am [My Name], and it’s so nice to see you again. I will be sure to pass your best on to my father.”

(I just wish I’d opened my mouth earlier. They left the store with a flurry of apologies, a complete change of attitude, and at super-speed! I did, of course, tell my dad about this man and his awful wife, but the difference in their attitude to me as the “shop person” and then as the daughter of someone they knew? Wow.)

(We are in cooking class. We have eaten the main dish we made that day, and one of us is bringing the pie in to the table. I turn my head a little to look at it, and my teacher loses her s***.)

Teacher: “Just like you, always hawking for the first slice. You know what? This time you won’t have any!”

(Usually everybody takes one or three pieces and the rest is given to the teachers, but this time our teacher made the other students eat the entire pie while preventing me from getting any or leaving. This teacher also stopped making us cook any actually good food after our class became 100% girls; all we got was “healthy” BS, like salads and soups, and the emphasis was on how it looked and the decoration. When there were boys in our class, we often made pancakes, pizza, and the like, but the teachers stopped it when the boys got their own class. Just to be clear, in Finland the housekeeping classes are compulsory to everybody.)

(I take my two-and-a-half-year-old son to the grocery store and park next to the cart corral in the middle of the lot. I take a cart out of the corral, bring it the far door of the car, and start getting my son out and settled in.)

Random Customer: “Hey! They have special parking for people with small kids up at the front, you should park up there.”

Me: “Oh, I know, but this is actually easier for me, as I don’t have to carry him or let him walk through the parking lot when I’m getting a cart or putting it away. Thanks, though.”

Random Customer: *getting more aggressive sounding* “But they have special parking, just for you! The store won’t let people without kids park there; we all have to walk so far and you’re not even parking there.”

Me: “There is no law about those spots; if you want to park there go ahead. It’s just a courtesy gesture. Take my spot if you want.”

Random Customer: “It makes no sense, the store won’t let us park there, we all have to walk, and you won’t even use it. Inconsiderate b****!”

(My son is starting to cry. I am getting stressed and thinking of just leaving when a store employee with the lot vest on comes jogging up, asking if everything is okay, causing the glowering customer to wander off. I tell the employee what was happening and he escorts us into the store, making faces with my son, getting him to giggle, and basically calming us down. As we are checking out after shopping, the same employee comes up, gives my son a couple of helium balloons, and makes excuses to walk us back out to our car. As I’m unloading the cart my son — who’s really big into following all the rules — notices the same customer has unloaded his groceries a ways off.)

Son: “Mommy, the mean man didn’t put his cart away; he left it out!”

Employee: “That’s okay. I’ll get it put away first so no one scratches their car.”

Son: “Mommy says it’s rude to leave the cart out; people could get hurt or hurt their car.” *calling out to the customer* “It’s rude to leave your cart out. You should put it away!”

(The customer looked over, saw who was calling to him, and got an embarrassed look on his face before squealing out so quickly that he turned too sharp and scraped the side of his car down the cart he had left in the next parking spot. Just as well that it wasn’t another car or a person he couldn’t be bothered to avoid hitting. Maybe he has learned not to shop angry!)

(I am eight and a half months pregnant. I’m exhausted one night, eating lunch in the coffee shop next to the lobby of the store where I work. The registers are all clearly visible from my location, and our cashier has closed his register down and taken over the self-checkout so those cashiers can go home. The self-checkouts are now the only registers open. As I’m finishing my lunch and am about to clock in, I see a guy wearing a fantastic leather jacket looking around and acting kind of iffy. I casually take a look around to see what he can see, masking my movements in a yawn and stretch. He can see me in the coffee shop, the manager with their back to him opening the counting room behind customer service, and the cashier at the self-checkout talking to some guy who is bent over his work station. He probably thinks I’m half asleep due to my yawning and putting my head down on my folded arms, and takes that opportunity to dart through the closed register, with premium steaks in his hands. I run over to intercept him at the customer service desk. Even though I see him attempting to steal the steaks, it is actually a fireable offense for someone in my current job position to accuse someone of stealing, and we must offer them every opportunity to pay for their purchases prior to exiting the store.)

Me: *running in front of steak thief* “HEY! Sorry, sir, register #6, which you just went through, was closed at the time! Perhaps the cashier at the self-checkout might want to help you out with your purchase tonight, as our customer service is also closed!

(I’m walking backward at this point, chattering up a storm, increasing my volume as we’re getting farther away from the self-checkout. He’s trying to get past me, but he can’t maneuver between me and the bakery displays in the lobby, partly because I’m huge, and partly because I’m faster than the average pregnant woman.)

Steak Thief: “You f****** b****! You have no proof that I didn’t pay! Don’t accuse me of stealing! You didn’t see jack f****** s***.” *continues walking*

(I know that if I touch him, it’d legally be considered assault. The instant he calls me a f****** b****, I recognize him! He was a low-level manager from a different store in the same chain, who thought I was bitter over a promotion I had applied for, that he got, that I had to decline due to a poorly-timed interstate move. His hate for me since I declined the promotion has been intense, and he has stated before that I hate him over my failure to be good enough for the promotion. He’s basically a gas-lighting a**hat, but everyone who matters knows that I’m leaving the job as soon as my maternity leave starts.)

Me: “Oh, I was in [Coffee Area] five minutes ago; I saw everything. Furthermore, I remember you. Congratulations on the job you got recently, and that I’ll have to decline again. Either find me your f****** receipt now, or leave these items with me.” *continues walking backward in front of the steak thief* “Hey, [Cashier]! Come here!”

(The man that the cashier has been talking to straightens up to full height; he is much taller and a little broader than the cashier, who is 6’5″ and 250 pounds.)

Big Customer: “Stay here, dude. I’ve got this.”

(I hear this, but it doesn’t make sense that [Cashier] has been told to stay there, until the incredibly tall, sturdy, and broad seven-foot tall man that I had never seen before I saw him talking to the cashier strides over to us in about four steps. I am completely mesmerized by this man’s tallness, and the steak thief is clearly scared.)

Big Customer: *in a booming, loud voice* “Hi! I’m [Cashier]! Dude, you want to pay for those steaks any time soon?” *striding forward, as the thief backs up towards the registers* “Both this young lady and I saw you go through the sixth register without an attendant. So, either pay for the steaks, return them, or, if you do neither, I’ll get your a** fired, then trespass you from the store, and fine you $500 in addition to the cost of this premium meat.”

Steak Thief: “I… uh… um… err… Yeah, I was just totally leaving these here with this very, very nice lady, because I totally… uh… I forgot my wallet? And the cashier? She—“

Me: “We have no other women on shift right now. But we do have cameras that you know capture audio, as well.”

Big Customer: “Steaks. Now.” *extends hand*

Steak Thief: “Can I… I mean, can I go once I…?” *puts steaks on my belly and RUNS out of the store* “BYE!”

Big Customer: *as soon as the thief leaves* “Whew, he didn’t call my bluff! And yes, I am a [Same Name As Cashier], but I have nothing to do with loss prevention or anything. That little dude at self-checkout—“ *points at the 250 pound, muscular 6’5″ cashier* “—wouldn’t have been able to do much here.”

Me: *laughs* “Yeah, well, you gave a very good version of that spiel, and the dumba** has probably heard it often enough from places he doesn’t work at to believe you. Unfortunately, he knows that he could get through me just by talking and walking. He’d been trained in my job before.”

(The manager at the other store fired the steak thief because they had a video of him pulling a similar stunt at a store in a neighboring suburb. I, as predicted, declined the promotion again, and left the company during my maternity leave.)