Unfiltered Story #147742

, , | Unfiltered | April 24, 2019

(I work at a craft store “Where Creativity Happens”, but recently our competitor that sells fabric opened up near mine. Since I am a huge crafter, I went to the grand opening to purchase fabric. I must also add that I have blue hair, and am fairly easily identifiable)

Me: *waiting in line for the cutting counter*

Customer: EXCUSE ME! *grabs my arm* Where are your buttons?”

Me: I’m sorry Ma’am, I don’t work here-

Customer: THAT’S BULLS***, I KNOW YOU WORK AT A CRAFT STORE,SO YOU KNOW!

Me: I work at the other one!

Customer: Then why are you here?!

Me: Because I’m buying fabric?

College Doesn’t Cause Less Anxiety, Trust Us!

, , , , , | Healthy | April 22, 2019

(I was diagnosed with a general anxiety disorder and panic disorder at nineteen, and have been on anti-anxiety medications since. Sometimes, they stop being as effective, or the side effects become worse, and I need to return to a doctor to change my prescription. This was never an issue before, as my dosage is low and I don’t require strong or addictive medication. However, after moving, I go to see a new doctor. The clinic has gotten all my medical records from my previous one, and I have filled out the forms, detailing my conditions. The doctor is a general practitioner, is male and middle-aged, and immediately seems to be only paying half-attention. I am a twenty-five-year-old female.)

Doctor: “Now, why is someone like you on anxiety medication?”

Me: *confused* “Because I have an anxiety and panic disorder. I was diagnosed years ago, as it says in my file.”

Doctor: “Have you ever tried losing weight?”

Me: “Uh, yes. I’ve been on diets since I was five. I do eat healthy, and I walk a mile almost daily–“

Doctor: “And you’re not working.”

Me: *having no idea what this has to do with anything* “No, not yet. I just moved states with my family.”

Doctor: “So, you plan on working? Or are you going to school?”

(I have absolutely no idea where this conversation is going, or why he’s suddenly asking about my life. In the back of my head, I’m hoping he’s trying to figure out what medication to put me on if I’m entering a more stressful situation.)

Me: “No, I’m not planning on going to college, and I’ve started looking for a job–“

Doctor: *cutting me off in a grandfatherly, scolding tone* “Now, why aren’t you planning on going to college? There are lots of good colleges around here.” *starts naming off colleges*

(I am getting increasingly embarrassed and flustered. I attended one year of community college, but my health had taken such a terrible turn from the constant stress and panic attacks I nearly ended up in the hospital. I didn’t continue.)

Me: “I’m… not really interested in going back to college, sir. Can we get back to my–“

Doctor: *dismissively* “Now, now, I’ve got a granddaughter your age; I know what I’m talking about. You don’t need more pills. What you need is to get your degree, lose weight, and find a good man to marry. You’re anxious because your life isn’t heading anywhere! I’ll put you on [medication] for now, but when you come back, I expect you to be enrolled somewhere, you hear?” *winking at me* “Doctor’s orders.”

(I was so bewildered and humiliated I just wanted to get out of the office. I took my prescription and never returned to his office again. I’ve had doctors be unprofessional before, but I’ve never had one lecture me on how going to college would magically cure my mental illness!)

The Easter Bunny Has Learned To Avoid Black Friday

, , , , , , | Right | April 21, 2019

(I work at a chocolate store and it is Easter time, the craziest time of the year, when customers are desperate to grab chocolate before somebody else does. I’ve seen a lot of arguments break out over chocolate eggs and whatnot, but never an incident like this before.)

Old Lady: *seems like a sweet little lady* “Hello, dear. I was wondering if you could show me where the chocolate bunnies are? I need one for my grandson.”

Me: “Of course, ma’am. I’d be more than happy to help.”

(I show her, and it looks like there’s only one more left on the shelf. She takes it and thanks me.)

Me: “Well, you’re in luck! That’s the last one. The registers are over here, ma’am, and thank you for shopping with us.”

(She is extremely polite throughout the whole exchange and goes on her way. Less than a minute later:)

Customer: “Do you have any chocolate bunnies? I really need one.”

Me: *cringes, knowing what’s going to happen* “Um, actually, that lady there just took the last one… so…”

(The customer immediately takes off, and I can see her yelling at the little old lady. The lady is calm, though, and when the other customer stops to catch her breath, the old lady pulls out A TASER and threatens her with it. She doesn’t get angry or anything. The customer pales and runs away, apologizing. This freaks me the h*** out. I don’t even know if tasers are legal here, or what. I walk over to her, praying.)

Me: “Uh… ma’am… I… your taser…” *sweating nervously*

Old Lady: *laughs* “Oh, sorry, dear. Did I scare you? It doesn’t work; there are no batteries in it. See?” *presses button, nothing happens* “I’ve been carrying it around since I went Black Friday shopping last year. Thank you again for your help!” *leaves*

(I don’t even want to know what happened last year on Black Friday.)

You Can Tell From My Face That I’m Not Interested

, , , , , , | Working | April 19, 2019

(Our mall is full of kiosks with people trying to sell random makeup brands, cell phone accessories, etc. I don’t begrudge anyone doing their job, and I understand a lot of them are under pressure to make sales. However, some of them REALLY need to work on their pitch. One day, I’m walking past a kiosk where a woman is trying to sell expensive skin cream.)

Saleswoman: “Here you go, ma’am! Sit down right here.” *pointing to her chair arranged in front of her mirrors*

Me: *smiling and shaking my head* “No, thanks. I’m not interested.”

Saleswoman: *pulls a concerned, comically disgusted face and speaks in a tone of voice as if I were on my deathbed* “Oh, ma’am, I have to ask… What do you use for your facial cream?”

(Maybe I should have been offended or something, which is what my husband told me, but it was just SUCH an incredibly bad attempt to, I don’t know, neg me into a sale or whatever that I just burst into disbelieving laughter at her and kept walking. She turned bright red and glared at me. Hey, maybe I COULD use a fancy skincare regimen, but with a sales pitch like that, there was no way I was going to buy it from her.)

What The Fudge?

, , , , | Right | April 14, 2019

(I make fudge in an open kitchen in a candy shop. There are low walls so I can see customers and they can see me, and there’s a roped doorway which has been left open today. Currently, I’m cutting a batch of fudge I just made.)

Customer: *walks casually into kitchen*

Me: “I’m sorry, no customers are allowed.”

Customer: *keeps walking despite my repeated protests, picks up a piece of fudge and calmly eats it*

Me: “You can’t do that!”

Customer: “I just did.” *walks out*

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