I am a woman working in a hardware store, so I am sadly very used to male customers thinking they know my job better than I do. I have this one regular, an older gentleman, who seems to be keeping himself busy in his retirement by working on a never-ending list of home improvement projects and odd repair jobs around the house.

Regular: “Hi, I’m looking for some lighting.” 

That’s it, just “lighting”. 

Me: “I can walk you over to our lighting department, but it’s a big department. Did you want bulbs, LED strip lighting, fixtures, or lamps?”

Regular: “Oh, I just want lighting for [very niche and specific project].”

Me: “Oh, I can help you there!”

I try to describe what he needs and help explain some common mistakes people can make with these types of products.

Me: “Usually, it’s okay with [specific power output], but if you—” 

Regular: “Oh, actually, I was just going to plug it into the regular outlet. I wired them myself, so it should be okay.”

Me: “I wouldn’t recommend that. I’ve done something similar at home, and I’ve used [specialized item] to ensure—”

Regular: “No, no, I’ll be fine.”

As I am trying to help him, another regular, who also seems to enjoy explaining my job to me, approaches.

Other Regular: “Actually, you’re both wrong. What you will need to do is [long rambling explanation of something completely irrelevant to what we were talking about].”

Regular: “Actually, what you should be doing, is [yet even more rambling explanation about his project that showcases his spotty knowledge of the subject].” 

As the regulars are trying to explain things to each other, a coworker sneaks up behind me.

Coworker: *Whispering* “What are you doing?! This is your chance!”

Me: “What do you mean?”

Coworker: “A mansplainer is trying to one-up another mansplainer! They’ll be at it for hours! You can escape, and they won’t notice!”

Oh, my God, my coworker was right! We simply both walked back to the store entrance and continued with our regular duties.

It was two hours before I saw either regular again.

An older lady customer approaches me as I stock items in our cutlery section.

Customer: “Oh, excuse me! Can you tell me where I can find [produce item]?”

Me: “I’m afraid I don’t work in the produce department, but I can walk you over to one of my coworkers who—”

Customer: “I was just over there, but all the workers there couldn’t help me.”

Me: “That’s strange. I happen to know four people working in the produce department today. Let’s go see if we can find—”

Customer: *Insistent* “No, it needs to be you! I want you to help me!”

Me: “But I don’t know where [item] is, ma’am. Why does it have to be me?”

Customer: “Because you’re an American! Those other people were… not!”

Me: “Ma’am, are you saying that because I am white, and my coworkers in produce are Black and Asian?”

Customer: “Don’t make me sound like I’m racist!”

Me: “Oh, don’t worry, you’re doing that all on your own.”

Customer: “Look, I’m not trying to make a fuss! Just show me there [item] is without attacking my opinion!”

Me: “I’d try to share my opinion, too, ma’am, but I wasn’t born with enough middle fingers to express myself in this case.”

Customer: “That’s so offensive! Get me your manager!”

Me: “Yes, I’ll go get my manager because I’m the offensive one.” 

The look on her face when she met my manager, Mr. Myeong, was priceless…

Customer: “Why is part of your hair pink?”

Me: “I like coloring my hair sometimes.”

Customer: “It makes you look like a [gay slur]. You’re gonna go to Hell if you keep making showy un-Christian displays of yourself like that!”

Me: “I’m sorry that you’re lacking God-like empathy in your heart. I’ll pray for you.”

Customer: “You… will pray for me?! It should be me praying for you! You sinner!“

Me: “I’m so sorry that the Devil has made his home in your heart. You will be in my prayers tonight. I hope you can find your way back to the Lord.”

Customer: *Sputtering* “Stop it! I’m the holy one! Leviticus 18:22!”

Me: “Yes, even The Devil can quote scripture, but does that mean he understands it? I’ll pray for God to grant you understanding in the fullness of His Word.”

Customer: “Will… you… stop it?!“

Me: “I cannot. The power of Jesus compels me.”

The customer actually screeches and storms out without their groceries. The next customer timidly approaches.

Next Customer: “Did you just flip their script?”

Me: “Oh, yeah, it works wonders on homophobic suburban housewives and old bigots. The joy of watching their confusion as you call out their un-Christian behavior with actual Christian behavior is worth the hassle of putting back all their groceries.”

Next Customer: “‘Good Christian’ hacks. I’ll remember it!”

I’m American Chinese. A customer comes over to me.

Customer: “Do you speak Asian?”

Me: “No one does.”

 Customer: “Oh… is it one of those dead languages? Like Latino?”

A few months ago, my store had a rainbow-themed line of items. Though we did get some negative feedback, a majority of our customers liked that we had the products.

Except Grumpy.

Grumpy is a man in his sixties who often comes in just to hold some poor employee hostage and rant at them until they offer him a gift card for his issues. Today, he has picked me.

Grumpy: “Hey! What’s with all the gay stuff?” 

Me: “Gay stuff?”

Grumpy: “That!” 

He points to some of the rainbow-themed products.

Me: “What about it?” 

Grumpy: “It’s gay!”

I know what he’s up to, and usually, I don’t have the time for him, but today I decide to make the time.

Me: “What’s gay?”

Grumpy: “That!” 

Me: “I don’t understand.”

Grumpy: “The rainbow!”

Me: “Rainbows are gay? 

Grumpy: “No! They are from God!“ 

Me: “I still don’t understand. You don’t like rainbows?”

Grumpy: *Louder* “No! The rainbow is a sign from God, and you and your [homophobic slur] friends took it!” 

Me: “I don’t understand, sir. You’re mad about the — as you put it — ‘gay stuff’, and then you said it was about the rainbows, which you also said were from God. I’m not following. Do you dislike the rainbow-themed products or not?”

Grumpy: “You’re being obtuse!” 

Me: “I’m just trying to understand what the issue actually is.”

Grumpy: “You idiot!” 

He left. That was the first time he did not get a gift card for his tantrum!