I am purchasing a few things from a clothing store. I find a few things I like and notice a discount bin that includes a bunch of rings with stickers on them at a discounted price. I like the look of some and pick up one to purchase. I approach the sales desk. The salesperson is playing around on their mobile.

Salesperson: *Annoyed* “Yes?”

Me: “Just these, please.”

I place the items on the counter. The salesperson sighs, slams her mobile on the table, and then grabs my items. This happens when she gets to the ring.

Salesperson: “This is still full price.”

I’m a little surprised because there were many of the same rings with the same discounted price on it in the discount bin.

Me: “Oh… That’s odd, because I could have sworn—”

Salesperson: *Really annoyed* “WELL. That is the price it scans at, and that’s what it is. Do you want it or not?”

I was almost tempted to walk out based on her attitude, but I just paid for everything else and left. I was working in retail myself at the time and would have never spoken to a customer like that if they questioned the price of something.

I work at a retail chain. My location has a non-standard layout, and we have signs everywhere, but that doesn’t stop people from barging in and looking lost. I routinely ask, “Can I help you find anything today?” which covers all the bases, which is how it started with a lost-looking customer.

Customer: “Where did you move the nice skirts?”

Me: “I’m sorry, we get new clothing in all the time so the old stuff gets shuffled around. Do you remember what brand it was?”

Customer: “Just show me where the skirts are; I’ll be able to pick out the nice ones.”

Me: “Our store is sorted by brand, not by style of clothing. I can show you to a few brands that still have skirts if you would like.”

I lead her over to the closest brand.

Me: “Well, here is what [Brand] has for skirts right now; is this something like what you were looking for?”

Customer: “NO. I JUST WANT A NICE SKIRT.”

Me: “Sorry, ‘nice’ means different things to different people. This one is actually my favorite one in stock. Can you be more specific? Is there a certain color, length, cut, style, or fabric you are looking for?”

She never gets any more specific about the “nice skirt.” I lead her around the store showing her what each brand is offering with no luck. She keeps repeating the nice skirt line, stressing the “NICE.”

Customer: “I JUST WANT TO GET A NICE SKIRT FOR MY NEW NINETEEN-YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER-IN-LAW. WHY IS THAT SO HARD FOR YOU?”

Me: “Sorry, ma’am, that is all we have for our late summer and early fall styles. Feel free to browse clearance to see if any of our old skirts are what you had in mind. If that doesn’t work out, you can always get a gift card at the registers and she can come in to pick out an outfit.”

Customer: “NO! I WANT TO FIND HER A NICE SKIRT!”

She began browsing through our bountiful clearance racks where we had stopped. I backed away slowly, never getting to know the “true” meaning of “nice.”

I work in a popular retail chain that caters to the teen market, but adults tend to shop here, too. I’m used to rude behavior from teenagers, but when it comes from adults it’s somehow worse because you expect better.

Two women and their daughters come in five minutes prior to closing time. The associates are cleaning up the store and, as I’m the closing manager of that night, I kindly welcome the customers and tell them we will be closing in five minutes.

Woman: “You don’t think I know you close in five minutes? I got a watch. You think I don’t know how to tell time? If you’re unhappy working here, you need to get yo ‘edumacation’ so that you can get a better job.”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m currently in school getting my education and working here while I do so, thank you very much.”

This customer and her friend start purposely messing up the clothing racks and one of them calls me a b**** loudly enough that I can hear it.

Me: “Ma’am, I approached you in a respectful manner and your behavior is unnecessary. You have no right to tell me to get an education when I can keep my composure and speak to you in full sentences while you have to resort to cuss words.”

Their daughters look embarrassed and one of them even tells her mom:

Daughter: “Mom, all she said was that the store is closing in five minutes. Let’s go.”

The woman smacked her lips at me, called me a b**** one more time, and messed up one more rack as they exited the store. All I could do was laugh. You know it’s bad when your daughters are embarrassed to be seen out in public with you.

I am in a quiet, low-cost clothing store, walking the winding path made by impulse-item shelves to the registers, when a woman walks in the exit of the tills and plunks her stuff down in front of the man at the counter to do a return.

I stand, a bit annoyed, as another worker putters behind the long counter, seeming kind of bored, mainly holding up returned items and then laying them back down in the same spot, no note-making or other actions.

The return drags on and two other women come to line up behind me. After the three of us wait for about a minute, the woman behind the counter wanders to a till and says:

Salesperson: “I can help you here.”

Me: “Why couldn’t you help me a few minutes ago?”

Salesperson: “You were the only one in line.”

Me: “What? So?”

Salesperson: “They don’t like the line getting too long.”

Me: “So, you just left me standing there until more people came?”

Salesperson: “Well… you were the only one there.”

I walked out, leaving my basket on the counter.

I work in the fitting rooms at a very popular budget fashion chain on weekends. It gets super busy and I’m used to dealing with weird, awkward, or downright rude customers, but this one takes the cake. I have only been working at the store for a few weeks when this happens.

A woman comes up to me with her young son, a baby in a pushchair, and her mom, pushing past customers I’m serving.

Mother: “Where are your toilets?”

We don’t have toilets, so we are trained to tell customers the toilets they are able to use elsewhere in the shopping complex and offer to hold their items while they go.

Me: “Unfortunately, we don’t have any toilets, but there are some at [Other Shop] which they are more than happy for you to use.”

Mother: “No, where are your toilets?”

Me: “As I said, we don’t have any, but—”

Mother: “I know you have a toilet in this building. Where is it? My son is about to s*** himself.”

We do have staff toilets and a disabled toilet for blue badge holders, but due to health and safety, we can’t just allow anyone in. Also, her son doesn’t seem to care at all about needing the bathroom.

Me: “I’m sorry, but—”

Mother: *Shouting* “My son is about to s*** himself! He’s going to s*** everywhere, so you’d better get a f****** manager before he s***s all over your floor!”

I’m super mortified as I’m trying to serve customers with young children. However, I try to remain calm and tannoy for a manager. Nobody shows up.

Mother: “Where the f*** is the manager? My son is going to s*** himself; we don’t have time to go anywhere else!”

She’s been shouting for a good ten minutes, easily double the time it would take for her to go to another bathroom and come back again.

Me: “I’m sorry. I’ve done a tannoy, but nobody—”

Mother: “Get a f****** manager! Now!”

I do another tannoy but nobody comes again; I do a third and one of my managers calls me from the admin area. While I’m on the phone, another customer with her young kids starts to defend me.

Nice Mother: “You know, it’s not the girl’s fault there’s no toilet.”

Mother: “Shut your f****** mouth!”

Nice Mother: “Oh, classy; how dare you talk like that in front of all these kids?!”

Mother: “Just f*** off! My kid is going to s*** himself so I need to use the toilet!”

On the phone, I’m trying to calmly explain the situation to my manager, who now has me on speaker with every other manager in the store. But I’m starting to get worried because the nice woman doesn’t deserve to be attacked. Panicked, I start to shout down the phone.

Me: “I need a manager; this woman wants the bathroom. She’s… I NEED A MANAGER DOWN HERE, NOW!”

Finally, my manager came down and had security escort the woman and her family out of the store, with her child who somehow had managed not to soil himself in the thirty or so minutes they’d been waiting. I hid in the back while trying not to cry from the stress of it all.

A year later, my manager still laughs about my yelling down the phone. I’m still a little bit terrified that the crazy toilet lady will return.