Our new store manager is an awful human being. He’s arrogant, bigoted, angry, and vengeful; he’s just a terrible, tiny little man with a complex against the whole world.

I am serving a customer who is trying on some shoes.

Customer: “Hmm, do you have these in size eight or nine?”

Me: “We should do! I’ll just go and check!”

I turn to head to the back room, and [Store Manager] is standing at the end of the aisle.

Store Manager: “Did you just say, ‘We should do,’ to a customer?”

Me: “…yes?”

Store Manager: “What makes you think that is an acceptable way to speak to a customer?”

Me: “I… I don’t know what you mean.”

Store Manager: “So, you’re stupid as well as unprofessional? Your customers are not your buddies! They’re not your mates! You should say, ‘We do have those in stock,’ or, ‘We do not.’ None of this stupid ‘We should do’ nonsense!”

Me: “But I don’t know the stock off the top of my head. I—”

Store Manager: “And why is that?!”

Before I can answer, there is a loud throat-clearing sound, and we both turn to see another customer — an older woman — standing near us.

Older Customer: “I see you’re still being a miserable c**t, [Store Manager].”

Store Manager: *Going red* “I… You…”

Suddenly, I see something I have never seen happen before. [Store Manager] visibly deflates, and he calmly speaks to me.

Store Manager: “Just get back to work.”

I do so, happy to get away from that terrible interaction.

I finish up with my current customer and get the sale. After my next customer, the older woman approaches me.

Older Customer: “Don’t worry about [Store Manager], dear. I told him what an absolute p*ll*ck he was being. I don’t think he’ll change, but he won’t be punishing you for embarrassing him.”

Me: “Thank… you? I’m sorry, I have to ask, but who are you?”

Older Customer: “Oh! I’m the poor woman who gave birth that sorry sod, and I make it a point to come to every shop where I know he’s working and remind him how to be a human being to those unfortunate enough to work under him. All I have to do is turn up and wait five minutes, and he’s never let me down.”

Me: “I… see.”

Older Customer: “Anyway! Best of luck! If he keeps acting like a p***k, just say you’ll tell his mummy about him. That usually works! Toodles!”

And with that, she headed out with her purchase, which I don’t even think she needed. The store manager was a lot more amenable after that!

Our new manager has just started. They are Irish, blunt, and suffer no fools. A customer walks in and immediately her attitude is awful. She is sneering at everyone like we’re beneath her.

Customer: “I was looking to join the gym and use one of your personal trainers?”

Manager: “Brilliant! I can set that up for you!”

Customer: “But I want to look like this.”

The customer holds up her phone and shows us a picture of a glamorous but almost dangerously thin supermodel. This is in no way body-shaming at all, but the customer is a long way from looking like that poor skeleton on the phone.

Manager: “So, you were looking for a weight loss programme, or…?”

Customer: “Yes, but I don’t want to have to change my diet, so I thought I would come here. Also, I don’t want to sweat. I hate sweating.”

Manager: “Okay, so here’s what you do.” *Points to the exit* “You go through those doors, go find a plastic surgeon, and all the best!“

Customer: “Is that how you talk to your customers?!”

Manager: “Only the ones asking for the impossible. If you wanted to lose a healthy amount of weight, we could help you with your nutrition and some exercises — and yes, they would make you sweat. If you want to lose an unhealthy amount of weight without sweating, well, that’s only happening if it’s sucked out and cut off of you. We don’t do that here.”

Customer: “Ugh! So rude!”

She stormed off, and I suddenly knew I was going to like our new manager.

Customer: “The cash machine (ATM) by your entrance is broken.”

Me: “Oh, no! Thanks for letting us know.”

Customer: “Yeah, I tried to take out £1,000, but it wouldn’t let me.”

Me: “Oh! Well, I think it’s different for each bank, but most banks have a cash withdrawal limit of £250 or £300 a day.”

Customer: “Oh, that must be it. Thanks.”

I nod and assume that’s the end of it. A few minutes later, they’re back.

Customer: “No, still not working. You know, it’s not nice to have a sign up saying it can give you cash but then not have it work!”

Me: “The machines are operated by a bank, not us, but I’ll pass on the message to get them to check on it. For my notes, can you tell me what issue the machine is giving you?”

Customer: “Well, it says, ‘Free Cash’, so I try to press the numbers to say how much I want, but nothing comes out!”

Me: “Just so we’re clear, you know that ‘Free Cash’ means that you won’t be charged by the bank to withdraw money from that cash machine, right?”

Customer: “Yeah, because it’s free money.”

Me: “Well, it’s still your own money, sir. You’re just not being charged to have access to it.”

Customer: “But I don’t have any money. That’s why I wanted the free cash!”

Me: “Sir, what did you expect to happen if you inserted a bank card with no money on it?”

Customer: “What card?”

Yes. This customer saw a cash machine with the “Free Cash” sign above it and simply walked up to it and started pressing numbers, expecting it to dispense that same number in cash.

Without a bank account.

For free.

Related:
How Is This Person Still Alive?

CONTENT WARNING: Sexual Harassment

I started an apprenticeship after high school to gain some work experience. I worked in a postroom for a large company. The company was based locally with a few buildings located in the town centre. To save extra costs, they used internal porters to transport the post between buildings.

I worked in the Town Hall which, as you can imagine, was a very old building and was not an open space office, as all the other buildings were. My colleagues were a lot older than me — in their fifties — except for one who was a year or two older than me. I am a heterosexual female and [Colleague] was a gay male.

The building had CCTV in the corridors only, so the room [Colleague] and I worked in did not have any CCTV at all. Sometimes we were alone working in that room whilst the others did the external post in the other office. The older colleagues had a separate office from us as they held more senior roles.

We had one porter who would do the afternoon post run. He was fairly new to the job, was a similar age to my other colleagues, was quite overweight, and always had a funny smell about him. He would always flirt with the older colleagues and wander into their office first whilst collecting the post.

During a quiet shift, [Colleague] came up to me and said that the porter flirted with him and touched him inappropriately when collecting post and he felt uncomfortable. I thought he was joking, as that was the sort of person he was. I would leave the post bags on the countertop for collection and work from the other office, so I never really saw or spoke to the porters. This particular porter, however, insisted that someone physically hand him the post. My naive young mind never thought anything of this. Maybe he couldn’t find the large, brightly-coloured bags? I’m not sure.

I was working in that office myself one week as internal post was extremely busy. The porter came in and started making small talk whilst I bagged the post. What I didn’t realise was that he kept getting closer and making sexual jokes. I finished bagging the post and, before turning around, I felt something touch my bottom. I turned around ninety degrees with my back to the corner of the countertop. The porter moved his hand back but showed no sign of guilt or anything — just a creepy smile on his face. I quickly gave him the post and bolted out of there. I tried telling my older colleagues, but they dismissed this as a joke and said he was only being friendly and wouldn’t do that. After that, on a few other occasions, he came in and slapped me on my behind and squeezed which made me even more uncomfortable. 

When I next saw [Colleague], I apologised and told him what had happened to me. The next day, we decided to work together in the office. The same porter came in again. We looked at each other with a “Now what?” sort of look. [Colleague] stood behind me whilst I bagged the post. But as it was a corner countertop, it looked like we were side by side. I turned to get the bags, my colleague turned to take them from me, and the porter decided this was the best time to press his whole body into [Colleague]’s back. His “joke” was, “Are we making a sandwich?”

We both stayed quiet as we were scared we would be in trouble if we said anything. It was our word against his. 

The final straw came a week before Christmas. Everyone was sending Christmas cards internally so internal post wasn’t filled with much else and bags were very light. The porter came to collect the bags and complained to our colleagues that I was “hiding out” in the back office. [Colleague] was on lunch at the time.

This time, I decided to give him the bags in the corridor as they were extremely light. I made sure to stand slightly to the side, facing my back toward the camera so he would be facing the camera. He had his trolley with him and decided to bend down in front of me to put his bags in the trolley, made a nasty sexual gesture with his tongue and fingers, and inhaled.

In writing this, it sounds like it took longer than it did, but in reality, he was very quick about it. I wondered if it had happened or not. I was in shock. I was extremely grossed out and stepped back. At that moment, I felt like crying. Luckily for me, I knew there was CCTV there and he had been caught.

Once he left, I spoke to [Colleague] about this and we reported it to Human Resources, who asked if we wanted to take this further. Now I feel like I should have, but at the time, we were both younger and didn’t want to cause trouble as our older colleagues already doubted us. We felt like little kids in the office. In the end, the porter was fired and post was left in the room for pickup or an older colleague would deal with the porters.

CONTENT WARNING: Sexual Harassment

This story occurs just before upskirting was made illegal in the UK. For those not in the know, “upskirting” is the practice of taking a photo up a woman’s skirt or dress without her prior knowledge, and since its outlawing, it is legally considered a sexual offence.

I work in a restaurant for a five-star hotel in Central London, and we have a very strict dress code to adhere to: casual work suits for men, and dress suits for the ladies. Whilst ladies are allowed to wear trousers, there is an emphasis made on at least owning a dress suit.

I normally operate the morning shift with two other colleagues. A part of our duties involves going down to Room Service to collect pastries for the breakfast rush; the pastries are always made overnight and are delivered in time for the mornings.

[Room Service Attendant] normally collects these and stows them in Room Service for safekeeping. However, he has recently taken up the idea of stowing them in a completely weird place: behind a building plinth in the same room, making it a little more complicated than it needs to be to collect them. [Room Service Attendant] almost always works the overnight shift, which is fine since he requested to do so. However, many of our colleagues find him a little weird personally. He doesn’t tend to socialise a lot with anyone, and he talks to himself and generally isolates himself from his colleagues with his strange behaviour. Most of us put it down to him working all-nighters.

Anyway, normally, one of the other colleagues who arrives half an hour later than us collects the pastries on the way up. It’s an easy task that’s only required to be completed by one person; however, today we are fully booked for a family reunion, so we decide to order more pastries than usual just in case we run out early. We order twice as much, so I join [Colleague] on her way down. On the way, I receive a phone call from another colleague, so I arrive at Room Service a little while later than [Colleague].

Me: “Hey! Sorry about that. I was—”

I round the corner as I’m speaking and see [Colleague] loading the trolley with pastries, and [Room Service Attendant] is sitting behind her in such a way that her rear is almost in his face. My unexpected arrival obviously scares the daylights out of him because, as soon as I say hello, he almost jumps out of his seat — and perhaps more strangely, his hands dart both into his pockets, and his face flushes full red.

Me: “You okay, mate?”

Room Service Attendant: *Speaking quickly and breathing heavily* “Yeah, yeah fine…”

Something’s really not correct with what’s been seen. But as our guests will be arriving in less than an hour, I let it go and go back to the restaurant with our pastries. I let my manager know on the side what I saw and she says she will look into it.

About a month later, my manager approaches me as I begin work.

Manager: “I let [Room Service Attendant] go. You remember what you told me before?”

She had grown suspicious of [Room Service Attendant] as, apparently, this was not the first time behaviour like this was reported from him. She had personally asked the restaurant staff to be extra vigilant the next time they had to collect from Room Service. When [Colleague] did one time, she found [Room Service Attendant] behind her again, with his phone torch (flashlight) activated and positioned between her legs. [Room Service Attendant] was fired within the hour, but not before [Colleague] delivered a punch that caused his nose to bleed so severely he had to go to hospital for it. When the police asked how his nose came to be fractured, “nobody” blamed [Colleague].