(This happens while covering a break in the electronics department. The phone there is the only portable one in the store, and sometimes new or lazy operators will send phone calls there that don’t belong to that section)

Me: “Thank you for calling [Store] electronics. How can I help you today?”

Customer: “Hi, yeah, could you transfer me over to the toilet section?”

Me: *suspicious already that the customer sounds like a child* “Unfortunately, we don’t have any phones over there, and I couldn’t transfer you from here. Is there something I can help you with?”

Customer: “Yeah, my toilet broke. Could you tell me which ones you guys sell?”

Me: “Uh. All we carry are toilet seats, actually; we don’t sell toilets.”

Customer: “That’ll work!”

(At this point I am concerned that this isn’t a legitimate call, but I try to play along for a bit in an attempt not to hang up on a customer.)

Me: “I don’t really know anything about toilets, so I can’t really help you.”

Customer: “Well, can I tell you what’s wrong, and then you can see if you can help me?”

Me: “Uh, I can’t really—”

Customer: “So, what happened was I took this giant s***, and when I tried to reach in with my hand to get it, I got stuck, so I had to break it to get free, and now I need a new toilet.”

Me: *sigh* “Oh. Unfortunately, we don’t sell toilets here, so you’ll have to go to [Home Repair Store], or call a plumber.”

Customer: “I did call a plumber! And when he came to help he got stuck, too, and… and he drownded!”

Me: “Okay, hon. I’m going to hang up now, all right?”

Customer: “No, don’t hang up!”

Me: *click* “Well, that’s five minutes I’ll never get back.”

(I have been getting my makeup done at a department store, by an employee of who is desperate to sell me pretty much half her stall. I have been sat for about half an hour.)

Me: “How much longer is this going to take?”

Employee: “Just a couple more minutes.”

(Fifteen minutes later:)

Employee: “And… done!”

(She hands me a mirror.)

Me: “Umm…”

Employee: “Good, huh? The foundation and blush are £50 each for the 250ml containers, and—”

Me: “You made me look like Bob the Drag Queen.”

Employee: “I don’t know who that is, but if you like it, sure.”

Me: “Well, she’s a drag queen, and she’s black.”

Employee: “Is she pretty?”

Me: “Yes, but you’ve literally given me blackface.”

Employee: “But she’s pretty, which means you’re pretty!”

Me: “I’d like you to remove it, please. I’m not going anywhere with blackface.”

Employee: “I will if you agree to buy the products I used on you today.”

Me: “Agree to buy something that makes me look racist? Not on your life.”

(I ran off and bought some makeup wipes. I must have used about half removing everything she put on me. As I left she tried to alert security to my “stealing,” but the guard just rolled his eyes. I’m assuming I’m not the first incident.)

(We share a parking lot with a restaurant with a lot of regulars. One has decided to be the self-appointed disabled parking spot judge. He will sit at the outside tables yelling whenever he thinks someone is parking in them inappropriately. We have received a ton of complaints about him, but mall security hasn’t caught him in the act yet, so he is still allowed on the premises. I’m grabbing lunch from the restaurant and see him outside, so I text security to come and keep an eye on him. Not long afterward a car pulls into a disabled parking spot displaying proper tags. A young woman gets out of the driver’s seat.)

Regular: “Hey! What the f*** is your disability? That you need a latte? B****! I’m talking to you! You can walk just fine! You’re taking that spot from someone who needs it! Let me guess: you got that tag on your knees in front of the doctor! Hey! Don’t ignore me!”

(The woman has completely ignored the rant, heading to the back of the car and pulling something out of the trunk. I’ve gotten video of the regular and texted it to security, who says he is on his way ASAP. By this point I’ve realized what the woman is getting out of the trunk: a walker. Next, she opens the back passenger door and helps out a small, extremely elderly woman. The regular hasn’t stopped his insults. The second the elderly woman gets her hands on the walker, she starts towards the regular. She stops in front of him, pulls off her hat, and starts to hit him over the head with it, furious.)

Elderly Woman: “You don’t call my granddaughter a b****! What is wrong with you?! Who raised you?!”

(The regular reels back, shocked, and security walks up to see the vengeful grandmother’s anger.)

Regular: “Make her stop!”

Security: “Ma’am, please stop. Sir, you’re officially banned from mall property for harassing other customers.”

Regular: “Harassing?! They’re the ones cheating the system. She—” *gesturing at the granddaughter* “—doesn’t need a disabled parking spot.”

Security: “No, but she—” *gesturing to the grandmother, who has sat down, exhausted from her exertion* “—probably does. Anyway, it’s none of your business. Ma’am, are you all right?”

Grandmother: “I’m 92 years old, and it’s been too long since I put an a**hole in his place. I’m fine!”

This story is part of our Invisible Disability roundup!

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(I start off my shift at my main store, where I am called over when an angry customer requests the manager on duty. I look over the receipt.)

Me: “The cashier is correct. You’re well outside the 90-day return policy, and formal wear has to be unworn to be returned. You can see that here.”

Customer: “Bulls***! I paid $250 for this; you have to take it back! Do you know who I am? I’m Mrs. [Customer]!”

Me: “I’m afraid the final answer is no.”

Customer: “We’ll see!”

(Almost immediately afterwards, I have to run to a meeting held at our next closest location, which is about an hour drive away. I get there, and I am talking to another manager when I see a familiar, angry face at the returns desk. I can’t help myself, and walk up behind the counter.)

Me: “Hi there, Mrs. [Customer]! As I told you in [Home Store Location], we can’t return formal wear, and you’re outside the return date.”

Customer: “I, uh… I mean… Give me that receipt!”

(At this point I take a wild guess, as there is another store location only a twenty-minute drive away.)

Me: “I’ll give it to you, if you promise I won’t see you at [Third Store Location] trying to return this again.”

(The customer’s eyes go wide and she stares at me for a few seconds, in shock.)

Customer: “What? How did you know?!”

(She picked up her dress and ran out of the store, leaving the receipt behind.)

(A customer is leaning against the wall at the top of the escalator when I come upstairs.)

Customer: “Hey, are you a manager?”

Me: “Yes. What can I do for you?”

Customer: *looking down at phone* “How long will it be?”

Me: “How long will it be for what?”

Customer: *still looking at phone* “I just want to know how long it will be.”

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

Customer: “Just… how long?”

(I try to glance at his screen, to see if he is referring to something on it. He snatches the phone away, shooting me a dirty look.)

Customer: “You don’t have to be a b****. You should know how long it will be.”

Me: “Five.”

Customer: “Five? Okay, thanks.” *he leaves*

Coworker: “Five what?”

Me: “I have no idea; I just wanted to get rid of him.”