(I am closing the bridal store with only Coworker #1 this night because someone left early. Coworker #2, who left early, is notorious for not putting dresses away, and was last seen helping a large bridal party try on a number of bridesmaid’s dresses. Since it’s also prom season, it’s been a very busy day, and we’ve just finished putting away about 50 dresses each.)

Me: “I can’t believe [Coworker #2] left early again. Why does she actually bother to come in?”

Coworker: “And she always leaves her fitting rooms a mess!”

Me: “I know! Wait, have we checked down her hallway yet?”

Coworker: “No, but I saw her putting a few dresses back before she left, so I’m sure it’s fine.”

Me: “I think I might actually cry if I have to put any more dresses away. I had six brides today, three of them at the same time, and I think they wanted to try on every dress in the store!”

(Sure enough, when we checked Coworker #2’s fitting rooms there were three rooms FULL of at least 30 dresses each. We were there for another hour putting away dresses and then finally cleaning the store before we could go home. The kicker? When we confronted her about it on her next shift, she just laughed and said she didn’t care.)

(Me and my mom are shopping in a small store and I grab a dress to try on. I haven’t left the dressing room yet.)

Mom: “You get back in there! That dress is way too short!”

(I’m confused, but I figure my mom is just making a fool of herself (as always) so I decide to listen. A few minutes go by.)

Mom: “Wha- Wait! Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry! I thought you were my daughter! I’m sorry but you were trying on the same dress as her and I thought it was her! Ohmygoodnessimsorryimsosorry!”

(She begins speaking to someone else.)

Mom: “I’m sorry I thought your wife— girlfriend— er, whoever that was, was my daughter! I saw the dress and thought it was too short! I would never let my daughter wear a short dress like that. I mean, your friend can but she can’t and, and, and…”

(She digs a deeper and deeper hole for herself, so I decide to hop out and help her.)

Me: “All right, [Mom], let’s get out of here. I didn’t like the dress!” *grabs her arm and runs off*

(This takes place at our order collection till. The system is down and as such we can’t check whether customers’ orders are in or not. It’s also close to Christmas and we’re full of customers. A woman approaches my till.)

Me: “…and what name—”

Customer: *quotes her order number*

Me: “Sorry, ma’am, our system is down. Can I please have the name it’s under?”

Customer: “[Customer].”

Me: “And how many items is it?”

Customer: *sighs* “Can’t you just check?”

Me: “Sorry, like I said our system is down. How many items are you expecting?”

Customer: “One.”

Me: “Okay, ma’am. I’ll go get it for you.”

(I go into the stockroom and search under the initial of her last name. I can’t find any under her name. So I go back to the customer.)

Me: “Hi, sorry. I can’t seem to find your parcel. Can you just write down the full name it’s under?”

(Customer writes it down, sighing the whole time. I go back and still can’t find the parcel.)

Me: “Is it possible it could be under another name?”

Customer: “No! I think I know my own name! What kind of stupid question is that?!”

Me: “I understand. It’s just, sometimes—”

Customer: “Just go back and check! You know this is supposed to be a faster option! I’ve been waiting in this line for half an hour.”

Me: “I apologise, ma’am.”

(I go to the stockroom for the third time. This time asking for the delivery team to help me find it. They tell me to leave and cover other customers. while they continue searching. I go to the customer and tell her the delivery team are looking.)

Customer: “You know, I’m getting sick of waiting!”

(She continues ranting at me and ‘terrible service at this store’ until her phone rings.)

Customer: *on the phone* “I’ve been waiting for ages! They’re all useless! It can’t be that hard to find a parcel for [Customer]. It’s not exactly a common name.”

(Suddenly the customers face goes white and she looks away from me.)

Customer: *hangs up phone* “It… er… it may be under [Different Name].”

(Lo and behold it was under Different Name. And, surprise, surprise – I didn’t get an apology.)

(I went to check out a sale at a clothing store. While browsing the clothing racks, a lady runs up to and violently grabs my arm and start yelling at me.)

Customer: “About d*** time someone showed up. I’ve been looking for you for ten minutes now!”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “Don’t give me that! I give you guys a lot of my hard earned money and all I get is crappy service.”

Me: “Um, ma’am, I’m sorry, but I think you—”

Customer: “Now listen here. I don’t have time for this. I’ve got places to be, so just do your d*** job and help me!”

Me: “Ma’am, I don’t work here.”

Customer: “Work, you got that right! You just get paid to sit on your fat a**. If it was up to me you’d be fired!”

(At this point the store manager has heard the commotion and comes over to see what the problem is.)

Manager: “Excuse me, ladies. Is there a problem here?”

(Customer angrily points at me.)

Customer: “Yes, there’s a problem! Your sorry excuse of employees stand around all day while your customers have to suffer!”

(Looking at me, the manager understands what’s going on and is trying to not burst out laughing.)

Manager: “I’m terribly sorry, ma’am, but if you would have asked a store associate for assistance instead of yelling at another customer, perhaps we could have assisted you.”

Customer: “Well, I never!”

(Confused, the lady looks at me and finally realizes I’m not wearing a store uniform or name tag.)

Customer: “Oh, um… Ah, I think I’ll just come back later.”

(Looking extremely embarrassed the lady rushes out of the store without even apologizing.)

Manager: “I’m sorry, miss. Are you all right?”

Me: “I’m really confused but yeah. I guess. Are all your customers like that?”

Manager: “That’s not even the worst of it.”

(I am out shopping with my 10-year-old sister. I am 23. Another customer, a woman in her 60s, approaches my sister as she is standing by herself for a moment.)

Customer: “Are you the manager here?”

Sister: “No…”

Customer: “What are you, then?”

Sister: “I’m 10…”