A group of friends and I are into the alternative fashion style — big boots, Gothic dresses, lace, and corsets. We go into a popular high street store as I am getting married and we need some classy, normal-style dresses for bridesmaid dresses.

As soon as we walk into the shop, we are watched by a member of the staff who stands glaring at us from the counter. Whenever we pick up a dress to look at it, she moves closer to us, glaring. Keep in mind that there are six in the group in different sizes all looking to get the same style of dress. She doesn’t offer to help, stops other staff from helping us, and just stands there glaring.

We find dresses in the same style that can fit all six and go and ask to try them on. She snatches the dresses from our hands says, “These won’t suit you or even fit, and I doubt you can afford them, either.” These dresses cost £75 each and there are six of us. I am paying for them all and in cash. I was prepared to pay out over £500 for all of the dresses, so I have this cash on me.

I pulled the cash out, show the staff member, and say, “You mean this money?” Her whole attitude changes and she becomes very helpful. We all exchange a look. I say, “Because of your poor customer service we have changed our mind,” and we just walk out, leaving her to put away six dresses. If she had been nicer and less suspicious of us, she would have made a big sale.

(The customer in this story is an old acquaintance of the company CEO. He will show up randomly with odd demands like a few cans of oil or to have weldings done. In addition to being a deadbeat payer and generally wasting everyone’s time, the customer is also rude and prejudiced.)

Customer: “Oi! Is [Company CEO] in? I need to ask him a question.”

Me: “He’s at a meeting now; I don’t know when he’ll be available.”

(I’m hoping that the customer will just leave, but he just loiters in our office, making small talk, even though there’s a waiting area in the hall. The CEO comes out of the meeting room, still talking with one of our foremen, who is a person of color.)

Customer: “Oi! [CEO], I need some…”

CEO: “Hi, [Customer]. Sorry, I’m busy right now; I’ll be coming down to talk to you in five minutes, okay?”

(The CEO goes upstairs; the customer keeps hanging around.)

Customer: “There are just too many [racial slur]s around these days. I’m sorry if that offends you; it’s just my opinion. I hope none of you is a foreign worker.”

(My coworker, who has a citizenship but was born in Argentina, and is the CEO’s cousin to boot, chimes in.)

Coworker: “No hay problema: estamos todos de aquí!”

(“No problem: we’re all natives,” in Spanish!)

(I am driving home from work when my wife calls me, tells me we are out of feminine products, and asks for me to get some for her. I am almost home and there aren’t that many options, but I see that a store I haven’t been to before is right up ahead, and in a convenient location. I enter the store and find the products, as well as a few other things we need, then go to the checkout. The cashier is an older gentleman, and he seems rather nice as he rings up my items. That is, until he gets to the feminine products at the back. Note that I’m relatively young and look younger.)

Cashier: “I can’t sell you these.”

Me: “Why not?”

Cashier: “You’re male. I can’t sell these to you; you might be trying to steal something.”

Me: “Okay, first of all, how would that even work? Second of all, these—”

Cashier: “I don’t know. For all I know, you’re trying to steal something. Besides, why would you even want these?”

Me: “They’re not—”

Cashier: “Unless you’re one of them [transphobic slur]s.” *squints at me suspiciously*

Me: “No, I’m just—”

Cashier: “Then why do you need them?”

Me: “Because—”

Cashier: “No. You don’t need them. Now put them back.”

Me: “THEY’RE NOT FOR ME! They’re for my wife!”

Cashier: *grunts* “Well, why didn’t you say that?”

(He begrudgingly rang me up, then proceeded to take as long as possible to bag my things. I ended up getting home well after the time my wife was expecting me. I never went to that store again.)

(As I — female — and two guys lock up the room after the event we all attended is over, we chat a little, and the subject turns to university lecturers.)

Me: “I only had three female philosophy lecturers and I have been studying for seven terms.”

Guy: “Yeah, I couldn’t tell you if there’s a single female physics lecturer.”

Me: “Gee. I really hope one day it’ll be close to fifty-fifty.”

Guy: “Why?”

Me: *taken aback* “Uh… basic feminism?”

Guy: “What do you mean?”

Me: “Men and women are equal?”

Guy: “No, they’re not.”

Me: “Right. I’ll be off, then.”

(I work as an associate in the copy department of a multi-department store. In my town, customers think that they are better than anyone because they have money, and they frequently like to cause scenes.)

Customer: “I want you to print something off of my flash drive. The file is called [file].”

Me: “Sure thing. It will just be a minute.”

(I go to my computer and plug in the drive. After searching for the file, I can’t locate it anywhere on the flash drive.)

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t seem to find it.”

Customer: “What do you mean, you can’t find it? Let me see.”

(I plug the flash drive into a computer closer to him so he can see that the file is not on his flash drive.)

Customer: “It was on here! You deleted it! Why did you delete my file?”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, you could have unplugged your flash drive too quickly and not have allowed it to finish saving. But I assure you, I did not delete your file.”

Customer: “Yes, you did! Every time I come here, I get treated like s***! This is ridiculous! What are you, [ableist slur]?”

(The customer is now being very loud and screaming in front of other employees and customers. I am near tears; I have a mentally-challenged uncle and so find this customer to be very offensive.)

Me:  “I’m sorry—”

Manager: *comes running over* “What seems to be the problem here?”

Customer: “You clearly have a [ableist slur] working here! She can’t do anything right, she always treats me like s***, and she deleted an important file off of my flash drive!”

Manager: “Are you okay?”

Customer: “No! I am not! I am very upset!”

Manager: “Actually, sir, I was talking to my associate. I want you out of my store!”

Customer: “You can’t throw me out!”

Manager: “I beg to differ! I have it on security cameras showing you verbally harassing her. Leave before I call the police and have charges pressed against you!”

(The customer storms out.)

Me: “[Manager], we don’t have security cameras.”

Manager: “What that b*****d doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

(That customer never came back into our store again. I don’t think he ever realized that we don’t have security cameras, or anything that even resembles a security camera. I never respected my manager more than I did that day.)