(This is before cell phones are common. My mom and I stop at a clothes store after she picks me up from school. Since I haven’t had a chance to change, I’m still wearing my uniform, with my middle school’s name clearly written on the front of the shirt. So, even though I look older than I am, it should be very obvious that I’m underage. My mom and I are shopping in different sections of the store with a plan to meet up in the shoe section in a half hour. As I start to browse, I notice a man in his mid to late twenties shopping in the section for teen girls. I find it a little odd, but don’t think anything else of it. There’s also a middle-aged woman in the same section. When I’ve finished looking at one rack of clothes, I turn to look at another and find that the man’s been standing right behind me, creepily close.)

Me: *jumping back in alarm*

Creepy Man: “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Me: *trying to get around him* “It’s fine.”

Creepy Man: *blocking me into a corner* “So, do you shop here often?”

(Because I don’t look my age, I’ve had grown men hit on me before. Usually, a quick mention of my mom or middle school makes them practically bolt for the door.)

Me: “No, I’m just here with my mom on the way home from school.”

Creepy Man: *undeterred* “Cool, cool. Hey, I know of this great party at [Downtown Club] tonight. You should come with me.”

(At about this time, I notice the woman is browsing a rack of clothes nearby without actually looking at them. She’s watching the situation unfold intently.)

Me: “No, thanks. I should really go. I was supposed to meet up with my mom a few minutes ago. She’ll be looking for me.”

Creepy Man: “Aw, come on. It’ll be fun!”

Me: *deciding to be more direct* “I’m fourteen.”

Creepy Man: *winks at me* “Yeah, old enough to have a fake ID, am I right?”

Me: “Uh, no. You’re not. I don’t have one.”

Creepy Man: “That’s all right. I know a guy who can hook you up. Come on.”

(He tries to grab my arm, and I rear back. Before anything else can happen, the woman hurries up to me.)

Woman: “There you are! I was looking all over for you, honey. You were supposed to meet me five minutes ago.”

Me: *playing along* “Sorry, Mom.”

Woman: *smiling at the creepy man like a lioness sizing up her prey* “Oh! Who’s this, sweetheart?”

Creepy Man: *paling dramatically* “Um… I was just… uh… shopping for… uh… my sister.”

Woman: “Of course.” *turning back to me* “I found these shoes that would look adorable on you. I can’t wait to show you.”

(The woman and I walk away until we’re around a corner and out of sight of the creepy man.)

Me: *sighing in relief* “Thank you for that.”

Woman: “No problem. I’d want someone to do the same for my daughters. Now, do you know where your mom is?”

Me: “Yeah, she should be in the petites section.”

(We walked over together to find my mom and then explained what happened. My mom made sure I’m okay, and the three of us all went talk to a manager. Unfortunately, by the time security was sent, the creepy man was long gone. My mom used the store phone to call my dad and have him pick me up. I’m not really sure what happened after I left, but I think the police might have been involved. I don’t think anything came of it, though.)

(I used to work for a clothing store that is part of a huge company that spans many brands, is one of the best known in the UK, and is owned by a multimillionaire. It’s after closing and I am in the office with my manager cashing up, when the phone rings. She decides to answer it and this is the conversation that takes place.)

Caller: “Hello, I’m calling from [Random Company]. May I please speak to the owner of the business?”

Manager: “The owner of the business? You want to speak to [Owner]? The owner of [Company]? The multimillionaire?”

Caller: “Yes, please. Is he available?”

Manager: “Hold on; let me check.” *holds the phone away from her without muting it* “[Owner]? [Owner]? Are you here?” *back to caller* “No, sorry, he’s on his yacht.”

Caller: “Okay, I’ll call back another time.”

(I am working one night, cleaning a very messy fitting room, when a customer storms up to me holding a small bundle of clothing.)

Customer: “How dare you allow little girls to wear this type of clothing!”

Me: *confused* “Can show me what she you are talking about?”

(She harumphs and whips out a very skimpy piece of lingerie.)

Customer: “This is the reason our society is crumbling!”

(I calmly explain to her that it is lingerie, not something for little girls.)

Customer: “But I found it in the girls section!”

Me: “It must have been put there by another customer. It is lingerie. It is not for girls.”

Customer: *huffs* “I don’t speak French! I just speak American!”

(A man walks up to my counter with several expensive pairs of dress pants and shirts in one hand, and his phone plastered to his ear, talking a mile a minute.)

Me: “Good afternoon, sir! Did you find everything you need?”

(The customer ignores me as he dumps his clothes on the counter.)

Customer: “Anyway so this guy is demanding [large amount] for the Lexus and I’m like, ‘yeah, no way,’ so I…”

(I start ringing him up as he continues to chatter.)

Me: “Okay, do you have your store card with you today?”

(The customer gives me a sour look and points to his phone, apparently upset I’m daring to interrupt his call.)

Customer: “So anyway, I told him he was either going to agree to [larger amount] or he was going to go back to his office empty handed and…”

Me: “Ooookay then.” *I finish ringing up his items* “Your total is [amount].”

(Now the customer just flat out ignores me.)

Customer: “And he said, ‘No, any 2016 Lexus model is worth [smaller amount] as a minimum, and I said ‘Yeah, not when I’m the one buying it, buddy!'”

Me: “Sir, your total is…”

(The man points to his phone again and silently tells me to be quiet.)

Me: “Sir, there’s a line forming behind you. I need you to please—”

Customer: “Hey, do you mind? I’m in the middle of a conversation here!” *goes back to his call* “So I told him, ‘You want me to drive off in this car today? You agree to accept $$$ and not one cent more!’”

(The line behind this guy starts getting restless.)

Me: “Sir, your total is [amount]. Will that be cash, check, or card?”

(The customer just turns away and keeps nattering.)

Customer: “So finally the guy stops being a d*** and accepts my price. Hard won privilege but for a new Lexus it was worth it.”

(I turn as something catches my eye outside the store.)

Me: “Sir, by any chance is that Lexus you’re talking about a [model]?”

Customer: “Huh? Yeah, it is.”

Me: “So it’s that one that’s now being ticketed outside?”

(The man follows my gaze, and is horrified to see a police officer is indeed standing by his car writing a ticket.)

Customer: “What the f***! I thought I still had time on the meter!” *turns to me* “How much for the clothes? And be quick about it!”

Me: “It’s [amount].”

(He pays, snatches the clothes up from the counter, and runs for the door.)

Customer In Line: “Wow, funny how karma always knows just the right moment to strike.”

Me: “It gets even better.” *the man reaches the door, and promptly gets stopped by our security guard as the alarms go off* “He didn’t give me a chance to remove the anti-theft tags.”

(I am working at a chain clothing store. A few times a year, a woman comes in and buys several thousand dollars worth of clothing to sell in her own shop in Lebanon. As our company does not sell overseas, and she spends a lot of money, my manager has no problem with this. I am ringing her up, and having dealt with her before, have brought out an empty rack for her to hang the clothes on, which is now completely full from her purchases.)

Me: *taking clothes off the rack as I ring* “So, looks like you’ve got a good haul this time!”

Customer: “Yes, you had a good selection of dresses this trip. My customers will be very happy!”

(At that moment, I look up and see the district manager coming towards me.)

Me: “Morning, [District Manager]!”

(She smiles, then suddenly frowns at me, clearly displeased with something. She passes me to go to her office in the back, saying nothing. The customer and I look at each other.)

Customer: “Who was that?”

Me: “That was the district manager. She’s usually a lot friendlier than that.”

(It suddenly dawns on me that the District Manager never actually gave us permission to sell clothing to people planning to sell it overseas, and I begin to wonder if I’m in trouble. I also realize I’m out of shopping bags, meaning I have to go into the back to get more, which is right next to her office. I excuse myself and go out back. The District Manager is waiting for me.)

District Manager: “[My Name], I didn’t want to say anything since you were with a customer, but you’ve been here for almost two years. You should really know better.”

Me: “I’m sorry. I thought it was fine. [Manager] has never had a problem with it, and she spends so much money—”

District Manager: “Wait, what?”

Me: “I mean, we don’t have an overseas market, so I figured it wasn’t an issue if she sold them at her own store in Lebanon, since we wouldn’t be competing.”

District Manager: “[My Name], I’m talking about the rack. You know I don’t want you bringing out racks of clothing to put out if there are customers.”

Me: *realizing* “Oh! No, those are my customer’s purchases! I brought out an empty rack for her to put her stuff on, since the first time she came here we ended up with a pile on the counter so big it spilled onto the floor.”

District Manager: *surprised* “She’s buying all that?”

Me: “Yeah. She buys a ton of clothes here to sell at her own shop overseas. I’ve got a few other customers that do the same thing.”

District Manager: “I didn’t know people did that.”

(I go back out and finish ringing up my customer, both of us relieved. After I help take her dozen or so bags to her car, I bring the empty rack into the back and knock on the office door.)

Me: “Finished ringing her up.”

District Manager: “How much did it all come to?”

Me: “With the coupons she had, roughly $2,700.”

District Manager: “Yeah, you’re getting a commendation for that sale. And if corporate has a problem with it, it’s their own fault leaving an untapped market. Just don’t bring any more clothing racks out.”