A customer comes up to me to buy a USB stick. It’s Pride month, so I am wearing my work ID around my neck on a Pride flag lanyard.

Customer: “Are you a gay?!“

Yes, he said, “A gay.”

Me: “I’m not under any obligation to tell you that, but yes, I am.”

Customer: “I want to speak to your manager!”

I call my manager over, who asks what the issue is.

Customer: “I don’t think your cashiers should be making… displays of themselves!”

Manager: *Looks around* “I only see a display for our smartphone deals.” *To me* “[My Name], did you stick pictures of yourself all over our displays?”

Me: *Smirking* “Not me!”

Manager: *Back to the customer* “Ah, there we have it. I can confirm there are no displays of my cashier in the store.”

Customer: “You know what I mean! I don’t believe in what he’s promoting!”

Manager: “You don’t believe in USB sticks?”

Customer: “I don’t believe in homosexuality!”

Manager: “So, you don’t believe gay people exist?”

Customer: “Well… I mean… of course… but… do they have to put it all out on display for everyone else to see?!”

Manager: “What do they have on display that’s specifically gay?”

Customer: “The gay stuff!”

Manager: “The only difference — as far as I can tell — between gay and straight men is the gender of their sexual partners. Are you saying they were engaging in sexual intercourse in front of you?”

Customer: “Well… no… but you know what I mean!”

Manager: “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

Customer: “I don’t want them doing any gay stuff in front of me!”

Manager: “Selling you a USB stick is gay?”

Customer: “Urgh!”

The customer drops his purchases and storms out. My manager calls out after him.

Manager: “Sir! What are you going to be doing with the USB stick that’s so ‘gay’?”

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I am walking between departments as part of my job, and I see a little boy, maybe five or six, looking around aimlessly. He sees me and darts over.

Child: “Do you know where my mommy is?”

Me: “I’m sorry, kiddo, I don’t. It’s a good thing you came to an employee, though! Shall we go over to the help desk, and we can call for your mommy?”

We do so, and my manager settles him down and gets him a cup of water, asking him his name and what his mommy’s name is. I make an announcement with the little information we’re allowed to give out; we can’t give out too much identifying information over a public speaker. And we wait.

My manager picks up the help desk phone when it rings a minute or so later, listens with widening eyes, and then relays the call to me.

Manager: “I have a call from the salon. The manager over there said that her client is likely the mother and to just look after the kid for a little longer as she doesn’t want to interrupt her perm.”

I mouth, “Wow,” while the manager listens to something else on the phone.

Manager: “She said what? Wow. Tell her to be here right now or we’re calling the police to report child abandonment.”

The manager hangs up, shaking his head.

Me: “What did they say?”

Manager: “The salon manager said the mother wanted to confirm if it was just the one child we’d found because she came in with two…”

Related:
Call… The… Police, Part 3
Call… The… Police, Part 2
Call… The… Police!

It is the mid-1970s, and calculators are the hottest retail item in our stationery store inside our department store. My manager comes up to me looking depressed.

Manager: “A customer just asked me why the calculators have a zero button. They didn’t think it was a real number.”

Me: “Oh, wow.”

Manager: “It was a hugely depressing insight into the innumeracy and math-phobia of the American public when he asked if he could get one cheaper without it.”

I work in a department store. We have a lady who routinely tries to barter for embroidery threads and such. Not only does she try to get us to take a lower price, but she sometimes tries to get us to trade for things that didn’t come from our store in the first place or have been partially used.

She only stopped when I started to respond to her, “No, no, no, [counteroffer],” by saying, “I’m sorry; we can’t. Let me put that back for you,” and moving to put her items in the discards basket.

Then, suddenly, she not only had money but the full amount.

From 2004 to 2007, I worked for a popular department store as a sales associate. I liked the job, but the raises were terrible; I got a total of eighteen cents altogether during my time there. Management was bad.

I worked thirty-six to forty hours every week up until mid-2007. The company decided to cut back hours, and now most people were only working twenty to twenty-five hours a week unless they were in management or Human Resources.

I was living paycheck to paycheck and I had two small kids. I was looking for another job.

A month after our hours were cut, the assistant manager had a morning meeting. In this meeting, she spoke of how our store had teamed up with a local charity organization. She went on and on about the company, how great they were, etc. She gave everyone pamphlets on the organization and said she had promised them that she would get 100% employee participation in pledging money to their organization.

I knew I wouldn’t be able to do it and thought nothing more about it.

At the next meeting we had a week later, [Assistant Manager] was upset.

Assistant Manager: “I didn’t have many people turn in the pledge forms. I need everyone to participate. I will give you all until Friday to turn your pledge in.”

Well, since the money that we pledged would be taken out of our check, I decided again that I simply couldn’t do it.

The next week, [Assistant Manager] held another meeting, and these pledge forms were once again the topic.

Assistant Manager: “I am very disappointed with the ones who still haven’t turned in the forms. I will speak to each one of you individually.”

A few hours later, she came by my department and wanted to know if I was going to pledge. I told her no, I couldn’t afford it. She said to think about it anyway.

I wasn’t going to change my mind.

The next week, [Assistant Manager] had yet another meeting, and it was the same thing. Apparently, only 15% of the employees had decided to contribute. [Assistant Manager] said she would start calling everyone into her office who hadn’t contributed.

Yes, she called me to her office, and she berated me for not contributing to this worthy cause.

Assistant Manager: “Why do you refuse to pledge?”

Me: “[Assistant Manager], do you have a pen and paper? I will show you why.”

[Assistant Manager] handed me a pen and a paper, and I jotted down a number.

Me: “Since my hours have been cut down, this is what I bring home.”

I showed her the number. Then, I wrote down a few more figures.

Me: “This is how much my rent, utilities, car insurance, cell phone bill, and groceries are each month.”

I showed her the paper.

Me: “I bring home $730 a month and my bills are $735 a month. Please tell me how I can afford to pledge.”

[Assistant Manager] looked at my list.

Assistant Manager: “Well, maybe get rid of the cell phone bill.”

Me: “No, I already canceled cable when my hours were cut. I need the phone in case anything happens to anyone in my family.”

Assistant Manager: “You should still try to donate a few dollars.”

I stood up and left.

[Assistant Manager] didn’t bother me anymore, and thankfully, a couple of weeks later, I got another job that paid much better and was full-time.