I’m working in a high-end store that sells women’s clothing and accessories. We have a man enter the store who’s buying something for his wife’s birthday. He’s not being particularly nice, yelling at coworkers who try to greet or help him, so we leave him be.

He finally comes up to the till point with a £400 handbag. Checking him out is an experience, with him complaining about everything and accusing us of trying to add on to his purchase with the COMPLIMENTARY wrapping.

Me: “Would you like a gift receipt? It will have the place of purchase and the item name, no other details.”

Customer: “F*** no.”

Me: “And would you like an email receipt?”

Customer: “Why the f*** would I need that?!”

Me: “As a safety net should you misplace your paper receipt and need to return the item for any reason.”

Customer: “Do I look like a f****** idiot?! Do you take me for one?! F***, you’re a stupid little b****, aren’t you?”

Me: “A simple no would suffice, sir. We ask all customers.”

He goes on his merry way, whilst I contemplate whether or not I’m paid enough. A fortnight later, he comes back and heads to the till point and to my very happy-go-lucky colleague, who wasn’t in when he bought the item. I’m working on the till point next to her doing an inventory check.

Customer: “I bought this bag for my wife for her birthday. Turns out she’s already got it. I need a refund.”

Colleague: *Perky* “Okay, I just need the receipt.”

He’s looking a bit awkward and glancing at me every now and then. My colleague is oblivious.

Customer: “Erm… I’ve… lost it.”

Colleague: *Still perky* “Oh! If you have the email receipt, I can use that. You can show me on your phone. If not, I can only give you store credit for whatever the item is worth now.”

Customer: *Very quietly* “I didn’t take the email receipt.”

Me: *Not quite as quietly* “Aw, diddums.”

My colleague gives me a side look of shock. The customer sheepishly takes the store credit and leaves.

Colleague: *To me* “What was that about? You’re usually more professional.”

Me: “You know how there was a customer who called me a stupid little b**** for offering an email receipt? That was him.”

Colleague: “Fair enough.”

One of my biggest annoyances is when people pick and moan about minor oversights or mistakes, especially when it doesn’t matter or is so trivial that it doesn’t even need to be mentioned.

[Employee] doesn’t see things my way. Even with something like a comma instead of a full stop, he practically inflates with self-satisfaction at pointing it out. I avoid sending anything to [Employee] and stick to verbal communication only.

Unfortunately, I have to give a report, and [Employee] is one of the people who have to sign it off. It takes me a few extra days to check and double-check my report — time wasted, in my book — but I am not going to be publicly humiliated over a stupid inconsequential spelling.

I have already gathered all the material, done some investigation, and compiled it all. I double- and triple-check everything and send it over email.

It takes a few days, but the various signatures start to come in and everyone seems to be okay with it. But I hear nothing from [Employee]. In the end, I have to chase him, again over email.

Me: “Have you managed to look over the report? It is now pending your signature.”

Employee: “Well, I have to check it, after the mistake in [report months ago]!”

Me: “We do have a deadline. Can you get this back before the end of the week?”

The week ends, and halfway through the next week, [Employee] emails everyone on the list.

Employee: “Sorry, I am unable to sign the report because of the number of mistakes! Page thirteen, line seven lists the factor as 7. But it should be 7.1! On page twenty-three, line two, the extract has the wrong number…”

And so on.

Senior Engineer: “[Employee], I gave [My Name] that information and he simply compiled that section. There is no value in making any of those changes. Please sign if they are your only concerns.”

Employee: “Sorry, but no, I cannot. My name is my integrity.”

Senior Engineer: “[Employee], the data was from your reports. The mistakes are yours. If you wish to cling to these issues, please sign and make the second amendment yourself.”

[Employee] signed the document that day!

[Coworker] is not a bad guy; he just doesn’t understand kids, people who have kids, or why people with kids can’t, say, drop everything at a moment’s notice and go drinking with him. He actually called me stupid for taking my young children on holiday because “What’s the point? They won’t remember it.” (It was a long weekend and we had great fun.)

We are in the break room. I’m just grabbing my things before I drive over to the nearby supermarket.

Coworker: “Pick me up a [drink], would you, please?”

Me: “Do they sell that at the shop?”

Coworker: “They do at [Other Shop].”

Me: “Oh, sorry, I won’t have time to go to both. I’m nipping home, as well.”

Coworker: “Just go to [Other Shop], then.”

Me: “No can do, I’m afraid. They don’t sell the weaning food they like.”

Coworker: “Just get anything.”

Me: “What, you mean your drink?”

Coworker: “No, the food. Get them anything. They’re only kids; make them eat it.”

Me: “Yeah, that’s not how it works.”

Coworker: “Don’t be difficult.”

Me: “I’m not being difficult. You, a grown man, won’t drink a slightly different drink, and now you can go without.”

He actually wouldn’t talk to me for weeks afterward.

I get an email about sensitivity training and it’s mandatory; everyone has to go. I’ve never been to anything like this before, but I go with an open mind and it’s okay. It’s fairly obvious stuff  — nothing that I hadn’t considered. 

We finish the course and I happen to walk by the trainer.

Me: “Thank you for the course.”

Trainer: “Oh, no problem at all. Companies should encourage this behaviour in all staff.”

Me: “I was going to ask about that. Out of interest, why do the women have a separate course?”

Trainer: “A separate course? What do you mean?”

Me: “Well, there are more women that work at [Company] than men. I presumed that they were taking a separate session?”

Trainer: “Oh, no. We haven’t been asked for any more courses, and we are the only school near here. Perhaps you should ask your management.”

I went back and asked why only the men had been targeted. It turned out that one of the Human Resources assistants had taken it upon herself to send the names of only the men. “Women don’t need to be taught this; it is instinctive to them.” She was the first to go on the next session and had to send an apology to the team.

I work in a small independent sweet shop. We can stay open but have restrictions in place for health reasons. The owner is quick to put in a “no mask, no service” policy and hand sanitiser for customers. His wife is pregnant and one of my coworkers has a relative who’s already poorly, so it just makes sense.

Owner: *To us* “I don’t care what they say, what they claim or who they know; they wear a mask. We’re not an essential shop, so they don’t need to be here, and I’m sure as h*** not risking anyone’s life over a pound of dolly mixtures.”

We stick to this, and we get the expected tantrums from adults, threats of being sued, and a surprising number of people lying about not being able to wear a mask, only to pull one out of their pocket when refused entry.

The strangest is “the old guy.” He’s around eighty and very smartly dressed, and he seems to be fully with it. He comes into the shop with no mask and walks straight past the hand sanitiser.

Me: “Sorry, but we’re asking all of our guests to wash their hands on arrival.”

Old Man: “Oh, it’s okay. I won’t be touching anything.”

Me: “Okay. But please, we have to insist.”

Old Man: *Shouting* “But I have dermatitis; it’s a real condition!”

Me: “I’m sorry to hear that, but we cannot let you in without it.”

He grumbles something offensive under his breath and washes his hands, turning back to me with an “Are you happy now?” look.

Me: “Thank you, and now your mask?”

Old Man: “What? But I’m exempt!”

Me: “And we retain the right to not serve for any reason.”

Old Man: “You can’t do this!”

Me: “It’s store policy.”

He stares at me for a while and then slowly takes out a mask from his pocket, puts it under his nose, looks at me again, and wears it properly.

Me: “Thank you. Please let me know if you need any help.”

Old Man: “What, because I’m old I need help?”

Me: *Ignoring the remark* “Okay, sir, you let me know if you need help.”

He grumbled, poked a lot of the packaging, and wandered back out. I doubt he wanted to buy anything in the first place. I told the owner just in case I overstepped the line, but he was fine and thanked me.

We are all waiting to see if we have a job after all this. I can’t help but think that if there were fewer people like the old man we would all be back to normal so much more quickly.

Related:
An Ugly Side Of Society Has Been Unmasked, Part 15
An Ugly Side Of Society Has Been Unmasked, Part 14
An Ugly Side Of Society Has Been Unmasked, Part 13
An Ugly Side Of Society Has Been Unmasked, Part 12
An Ugly Side Of Society Has Been Unmasked, Part 11