Customer: “Is your pork halal?”
Me: “Sir… do you know what halal means?”
Customer: “Actually, no, but I started seeing places advertising that they used halal meat. I assume that it’s a good thing because otherwise, why advertise it?”
I explain what halal actually means.
Customer: “Ah, I understand. I won’t have any of that then, I’ll save it for the ethnics…”
I worked in a video game store during the PS2/3 days. I see a lady come into the video game store with her son.
Mother: “Hi, I’m looking for some games for my son. He’s made a list, and I want to get as many of them for him as I can.”
Me: “Sure thing, let’s see what we can do.”
It was obvious from the outset that this boy had some developmental issues, and communicating with him was noticeably slow.
Mother: “His biggest comfort these days comes from these games. I want him to have a safe space in them, if you know what I mean.”
I look at the list and address the boy directly.
Me: “Wow, you have some good taste! Some of these are remakes of Japanese classics, and others have some great stories. You’re an RPG fan, I see!”
The boy smiles and nods.
I spend the next half an hour either pulling the games off the shelves or finding them online and getting them delivered to our store for pickup on a later day. My manager pulls me aside as I go to the shelf to get another game.
Manager: “Hurry it up!”
Me: “What do you mean?”
Manager: “You’ve spent almost half an hour with those two!”
Me: “So? They’re customers, and I’m about to sell ten games.”
Manager: “None of them are pre-owned!”
For those who don’t know, when most video game chains sell a new game, a good portion of the money goes to the developer. When they sell a used/pre-owned game, they keep all of the money.
Me: “The boy’s tastes are quite niche. We don’t have any of them pre-owned, so I have to get them new.”
Manager: “Ha! Niche. That’s a funny way of saying r****ded games for the r****ded kid.”
I pause for a moment. This is around 2009, when that word is still being used way too often, but it’s definitely on the way out. I bite my tongue and remain civil.
Me: “Excuse me, [Manager], I’ve found the last game that boy was asking for.”
I finish ringing up all the games, still making conversation with both of them, and I apply a staff discount without telling them. The mother is surprised at the total, but doesn’t say anything as she pays.
I’ll never forget what happened next. I hand the games to the boy, and he hugs me. A real tight, meaningful hug full of joy. I hugged him back.
After those customers left, I walked over to the manager and handed him my name badge.
Manager: *Confused.* “Huh?”
Me: “The moment you called that gamer boy that word, I decided I was going to remain here precisely long enough to get him his games. I gave him my staff discount to cut your margins even tighter. I’m going to work somewhere else now.”
Manager: “Oh, come on! Because I said a word?”
Me: “Exactly. Bye now. Have fun closing tonight.”
He was not happy to suddenly have to close the store on a Friday night. I went home and spent my now-free-from-work weekend playing one of the classic Japanese RPG remasters the boy had bought (but I had been putting off playing), and had a great weekend.
I applied for a job at a smaller locally-owned video game store on Monday. When the owner asked me why I quit the chain store (he’d seen me working there before) I told him the story. He hired me and told me to spend as much time with passionate gamer customers as I wanted.
I’m walking into a ward to help treat an unruly ER patient who has sustained an injury. One of the paramedics is giving me the rundown.
Paramedic: “He’s been drinking.”
Me: “Do we know how much?”
The patient, currently in the process of being held down and restrained by security and a police officer, is pointing angrily at my pasty-white Danish-descended self:
Patient: “Don’t you come anywhere near me, you f****** dark-skinned [N-word]!”
Paramedic: “…that much.”
A customer in line at the post office starts complaining the moment she steps up to the counter:
Customer: “Why are you catering to all the foreigners and immigrants?!”
Me: “I don’t understand, ma’am. This is a post office.”
Customer: “And all your signs are in every language!”
Me: “The languages are in English, Spanish, Chinese, Korean, and Vietnamese.”
Customer: “Exactly! You’re catering to them!”
Me: “Ma’am, I might be wrong, but based on your accent, you sound like an immigrant yourself.”
Customer: *Scoffs.* “I married an American! That’s different!”
Me: *Sigh.* “Was there anything you needed from the post office today, ma’am?”
Customer: *Without the slightest hint of self-awareness.* “I need to send these forms to the Immigration Service ASAP! I forgot to do them, and my visa expires soon!”
I work in a mall food court. We get a lot of special needs customers, so we let them take their time and order on their own. A couple of them are really nice regulars.
Two such teens are in line with my boss. They’re about to order when a man comes up behind them. When my boss starts taking the teens’ orders, the man asks loudly:
Man: “Why are you taking them first?”
Manager: “They were here first.”
Man: ” They can wait until regular people are done. This is bull-s***.”
Manager: “Yes, and I’m tired of yours, so leave, you aren’t eating here.”
I am on my lunch break, eating a few tables away, when this goes down. As a result, I get the pleasure of being able to watch him slowly come to the realization that he wasn’t going to get his own way and slowly walk away, trying to figure out what just happened, while I enjoyed my sandwich.
