(My family lives in a part of California that has been subjected to power shutoffs by our power company, in the name of safety concerns. Before the most recent shutoff, my daughter receives this phone alert:)
Alert: “Hello, this is [Huge Power Company] with an important message… Goodbye.” *click*
(A bit ominous, no?)
(It’s December 27th, 2016. I’m second in line, waiting to check out. The man in front of me has light skin and a shaved head. The clerk is wearing a Star of David, and has been very efficient.)
Clerk: “Your total is [total], sir.”
Customer: “What about my discount?”
Clerk: “What discount do you mean, sir?”
(The man pulls a card from his wallet and brandishes it.)
Customer: “I’m a member here, so I get a 10% discount.”
Clerk: “We don’t have memberships for [Store Chain]. You are showing me a membership card for [Different Chain], sir.”
Customer: “Listen, you [Jewish slur] b****. I want my god-d*** discount now!”
Clerk: “Sir, we do not have a membership. I’m sure that when you stop at [Different Chain], they honor that card.”
Customer: “Trump is in charge now, you know. He’ll round up all you k***s and gas you all, and it can’t happen soon enough.”
Me: *very angrily* “Obama is still in charge until January 20th, you racist piece of s***. I’m tired and want to buy my stuff and get home. Take your crap off the counter and get the f*** out of my way.”
(If looks could kill, the glare he fired me would have left me dead on the floor, but he handed some money to the cashier, got his change, took his stuff, and got out.)
Cashier: *to me, softly* “Thank you. If I had said anything, I’d have been written up for ‘disrespecting a customer.’”
Me: “That’s insane. Your corporate needs to understand that in cases like that, the customer is never right and always an a**-hole.”
(I fired off an angry e-mail to their corporate when I got home demanding they kick racist customers out of the store or I’d stop shopping there.)
(I’m browsing at a boutique that carries a bunch of brands that are popular with models and influencers. I’m a big fan of one these brands that creates stunning clothes, but they’re fairly pricey so I rarely buy, and only when they’re on sale. Still, I treasure the items I do get, like the dress I am actually wearing today to the boutique. It was part of their collection two years ago, so it’s not sold at the store anymore. While I’m looking at a couple of dresses, I feel a hand grab me from behind. I whip around and see a statuesque woman staring at my dress.)
Me: “Excuse me?”
Woman: “That’s the [dress] dress! I wanted to get that, but it’s been sold out everywhere for ages. I’m so happy I finally found it.”
Me: “I don’t think they sell this here anymore. I’m sorry.”
Woman: “What do you mean? This looks like my size.”
Me: “What?”
Woman: “I’m an influencer, see? I need to have clothes that are both sexy and pretty. This dress is perfect!”
Me: “I don’t know what to tell you. You should ask a salesperson to help you.”
Woman: “I don’t need someone else to help me. This is what I want; it’d be perfect for my new Instagram post. I want to try on this dress now!”
Me: *incredulous at this point* “This is my dress. Now, please leave me alone.”
(I try to leave, but she’s blocking my way and I’m essentially backed up against the rack.)
Woman: *screeching now* “Why won’t you give me the dress?! Call your manager now!”
Me: “I don’t work here, and this is my dress. Now, get out of the way.”
Woman: “YOU HAVE TO GIVE ME THE DRESS! I’VE BEEN LOOKING FOR IT! I’LL GET YOU FIRED, B****!”
(Having had enough of this, I try to push past her. She yanks at my dress as I’m leaving.)
Me: “GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME!”
Woman: “THIS IS MINE! A girl like you doesn’t deserve a dress this beautiful! I’ll do it justice!”
(I’m just panicking completely. I’m very close to tears and this woman just won’t let go of me.)
Me: “GET AWAY FROM ME!”
(She kept grabbing the dress and I tried to push her away. Suddenly, I heard a loud rip. She’d ripped off a sleeve, causing the front of the dress to fall down, essentially exposing my chest to an entire store full of people. I grabbed the front and burst into tears. I sat on the ground sobbing and I saw a store employee wrangle the woman away, while another came over to put a large wrap around me. The employee comforted me while we waited for the police. The woman was arrested when the police came, and she still kept screaming at me. I did press charges, but it didn’t really do much. She eventually got some community service for what she did, while I was left with the ruins of my favorite dress and the memory of being completely manhandled with my breasts on display for everyone to see.)
(I work as customer support for a website where people can design their own Christmas cards with their photos. Occasionally, we have to call them to ask about a design or confirm their address or something. Since our number is an 800-number, a lot of people think we are just telemarketers. I am calling a woman as her email has come back invalid.)
Customer: *picks up the phone* “NO!” *hangs up*
(I decide to call her back once more to see if I can explain I’m not a telemarketer. I hear the phone pick up but nobody says anything. All I can hear is breathing.)
Me: “Hello…?”
Customer: *breathing*
Me: “Um… if you can hear me, I’m calling from website about your order—”
Customer: “Oh!” *suddenly pleasant* “Yes, hi. Sorry about that. I hate telemarketers so I always try to waste their time.”
(I work at a vet clinic that is open late night for emergencies and offers boarding. A couple of years ago, [Former Coworker] had to stop working in order to care for a disabled family member, but she left on good terms with the doctor and still has coffee with the manager regularly. Her son has been asking for a dog for quite a while now. Not just any dog, he knows the exact breed and color pattern he wants. At the staff meeting Monday, the doctor let us all know that [Former Coworker] was going to be surprising her son with a puppy for Christmas. She had found the exact dog he wanted and would be adopting it later this week and bringing it here to board with us until late Christmas Eve when she would pick it up. The morning she brings the puppy in, [Coworker] and I are working at the front desk. She is greeting people as they walk in and handling check-ins. I am checking out a family who just finished their cat’s exam. They have a little girl about six years old, too short to be seen over the counter from where [Coworker] is.)
Coworker: “Hello, how can I… Oh, hey, [Former Coworker], long time no see. So, this is the puppy Santa is bringing [Son]? He’s gonna be so thrilled; it’s exactly what he’s been asking for.”
Young Girl: *very loudly* “If Santa is bringing that puppy to someone, why is he here? Shouldn’t he be at the North Pole?”
(My coworker is clearly at a loss for words and starts sputtering.)
Former Coworker: *just hands [Coworker] the puppy and bends down to the girl* “Your parents haven’t told you? See, when Santa brings a child a pet he calls the parents first to make sure the house has everything that it needs, like food and toys and a dog bed, and space for the animal, and that the kid can take care of it. Then, if the parents say it’s okay, Santa looks all over the world to find the perfect animal, and then, because he doesn’t want the puppies and kittens to get bored in the sleigh and eat other kid’s presents, he has his helpers take them to a safe place near the kid’s house. So, Christmas Eve, Santa will come here and pick up the puppy right before coming to [Son]’s house.”
Little Girl: “Oh, so, that’s why when I got [Cat], Santa just brought her bed and food and had Mommy take me to the shelter after Christmas?”
Former Coworker: “Exactly, he knew [Cat] would be happier playing at the shelter rather than being stuck in his sleigh all night, and that she would just get into trouble with all the wrapping paper on Christmas morning.”
Mom: “That’s right; we got a call from an elf letting us know where [Cat] was.”
Former Coworker: “Yep, the elves have every parent’s phone number. Parents get calls from the elves to make sure they have the batteries and other things needed for the toys, helmets for when they get bikes, that sort of thing.”
(At this point, the girl’s family finishes paying and leaves, the little girl happily asking her parents if Santa has called them about presents this year.)
Coworker: *sighs in relief* “I can’t believe you thought of that so fast; I was so worried I’d just ruined Christmas.”
Former Coworker: *laughs* “Last year, my sister got caught by her girls setting up a playhouse, she told them that Santa was behind schedule and woke her up and asked her to put it together so it would be all ready in the morning. The girls just nodded and went back to bed, but in the morning, the oldest said it was a bit rude of Santa not to tell Mommy she would need to set it up. And we all agreed that Santa should have had an elf call first.”
