I had a difficult pregnancy and gained a lot of weight. About seven months after having the baby, I’m finally starting to feel okay again, when this happens.
Customer: “So, when is your baby due?”
Me: *Awkward laugh* “Uh… negative seven months.”
Customer: “Huh? Oh!”
The customer looks me up and down.
Customer: “Well, I guess it could still be baby weight.” *Scurries off*
I’m an admin for a pest control company and am manning the office alone as my manager has stepped out for a morning meeting with some of the other local businesses to network. An older — bordering on elderly — man comes in and immediately starts speaking while still walking up to my desk. Bear in mind, I have shortened the conversation considerably.
Man: “So, why are you called [Pest Control Company]?”
Me: *Cheerily* “We’re named after our founder!”
The man starts fiddling with the various business cards and adverts on the counter in front of my desk, which I don’t pay too much mind to as they’re there to be looked at or touched, but he does continue doing so for the entire exchange. The man picks up the business card for our inspector with a distinctly male name; I am visibly female.
Man: “Is this your card?”
He continues speaking without letting me answer.
Man: “I’m starting a new business. It’s [Business Name containing “tech” which he says, then spells, and then gives the justification for] and I’m looking for some contacts that I can rely on when I need them. I know my name says, ‘tech,’ but I do more than that.”
He never elaborates on this.
Me: “That’s our inspector’s card. Here is the manager’s card.”
The man immediately speaks over me before I can ask any questions about his business.
Man: “And your name?”
I give it and he writes it down on the card.
Man: “I’m very allergic and sensitive to a lot of things. Do you have any products that are less harsh and won’t cause a reaction? What do you do for people like me?”
Me: “Have you added your name to the Chemical Sensitivity Registry? We are required by law to inform—”
Man: “I wasn’t done talking. People can buy all sorts of things from the store, but I’m sure you have stronger stuff for things like bedbugs and less harsh stuff for other bugs. Do you have anything that won’t cause a reaction?”
Me: “I wouldn’t trust—”
Man: “You wouldn’t trust [Pest Control Company]?”
Me: “No, sir, if you would let me finish, I wouldn’t trust any company that tells you they can do what you’re asking. There is no way to guarantee that no one will have a reaction to something. We can only take precautions, such as the Registry.”
Man: “Hold on, hold on. Do you have a Kleenex or something?”
I give him one.
Man: “I’m just nervous and my blood pressure got too high. I lived in [City a few cities north of here] in a gated community that was mostly Canadians, and you know, they can only be here 182 days of the year, so they would put down chemicals that are way too harsh for the environment to keep the bugs and weeds away while they’re gone. What would you, as an environmentalist, do to stop them?”
I am now thoroughly done.
Me: “Are you asking me as a person or me speaking on behalf of [Pest Control Company]?”
Man: “You, as the environmentally conscious person you are.”
Me: “You said it was a gated community, so there is likely an HOA; I would go through—”
Man: “But what would you do personally to make them stop?”
I refuse to rise to whatever bait he’s trying to get me with.
Me: “As I was saying, before you interrupted me, I would contact the HOA and, barring that, I would go through the appropriate legal channels or local environmental agency to address the issue.”
He’s now messing with the Kleenex.
Man: “One second, you’re making me so nervous. So, what do you think is the best way to address the drug problem in America? How would you go about stopping it?”
The look on my face must be answer enough, since I stopped smiling and dropped all cheer from my voice some time ago.
Man: “Right, right, I can tell you want me to leave, so I’ll go. You didn’t say it, but I can tell.”
He continued rambling all the way out the door. The man never left his name or his own card, just his convoluted business name. My manager returned not a minute later and I informed him of the crazy-person bullet he had just dodged and gave him the business name to avoid, should it ever happen to pop up.
I’m a recent college graduate, and I’ve just gotten my first check from my first “big girl” job. I decide to use some of it on a pair of earrings from a very whimsical designer that I’ve always liked but could never afford.
I get to the store and see “store closing” signs everywhere. There are a few people in the store. The sales associate calls out a friendly greeting, as she’s seen me come in a few times and sigh over items that I couldn’t afford as a broke college student.
Me: “Hi! I’m sorry y’all are closing. I can finally get my first [Designer] item and it might be the last.”
Sales Associate: “I’ve seen you in here a couple of times. I’m glad you came back to buy something from us before we closed. What do you have in mind?”
Me: “Oh, some earrings. Nothing super pricey, though.”
I spot a pair of dangly heart-shaped earrings at the register.
Me: “Wow, those are gorgeous!”
Sales Associate: “Right?! They sold fast. I think that’s our last pair. Unfortunately, they are still full-price.”
Me: “Darn. What do you have on sale?”
Sales Associate: “Sale jewelry is back by the dresses. We just reduced a ton of stuff today so you’ve got a lot of options. Holler if you need anything. I’m happy to help!”
I thank her and get to browsing. Almost immediately, a snotty customer in her forties gets in my way, blocking the aisle, and demanding attention from the sales associates. She makes comments about actually being able to afford the items in the store and huffs every time she sees me. Whatever.
I find a pair of earrings and a ring at a huge discount and get in line to buy them. Who should get behind me but [Entitled Lady], on her cell phone, talking loudly. I then hear this gem:
Entitled Lady: “Oh, there’s some heart-shaped earrings at the register. Totally cute. I’m buying them.”
I roll my eyes. Of course, she wants those, and she can probably afford them, too! It’s my turn, so I step up to the register. It’s the same sales associate from earlier.
Sales Associate: “Hey, nice choices! Glad you found some stuff. Anything else you want to add?”
I pick up the heart-shaped earrings and look at them.
Me: “I’m gonna kill my budget if I buy these, but gosh, they’re so pretty.”
Sales Associate: “You know what? Let me see something.”
She rings them up with my other purchases and types something in the computer.
Sales Associate: “Oh, look at that. They went on sale just now. You want them?”
I look at the price. I can now afford them. The sales associate is grinning.
Me: “Yes! Thank you!”
Sales Associate: “You’re welcome. You’ve made excellent choices today. You can swipe your card whenever you’re ready!”
She finishes ringing me out, wishes me a great day, and calls up [Entitled Lady]. I walk very slowly to the exit, because I want to hear what happens next.
Entitled Lady: “Hey, I wanted those heart earrings. Where did they go?”
Sales Associate: “What? Oh! Someone must’ve bought them.”
Entitled Lady: “What?! You must have more in the back!”
Sales Associate: “So sorry, ma’am, but that was our last pair, and we won’t be getting any more.”
I hustled out of the store laughing. That was eight years ago, and I still have those earrings!
This story was featured in our May 2020 roundup!
In my store, we have a few different choices when it comes to what we wear. Today, my coworker and I wore the exact same thing. My coworker has also dyed her hair to barely a shade darker blonde than me.
I notice the team lead walk by a few times and every time he does, he does a double-take at us. On one of the passes, he stops.
Team Lead: “You guys are throwing me for a loop today. You’re both wearing the same thing and you’re both blonde.”
I felt bad for him the rest of the day, even worse knowing in a few weeks I was planning to dye my hair red which would then confuse him all over again.
My mother has been one of the primary points of support for my elderly grandparents for the past several years, driving across town to their home and doing their laundry, buying their groceries, and cooking them dinner once or twice a week. It is tiring and time-consuming for her, and personally, I think they take her for granted more often than not.
My grandmother has had macular degeneration for some time now, and while she has had many genuine health issues, she’s also unfortunately quite a drama queen about them if it gets her attention. These days, it means that every third sentence from her contains some variation of “I can’t see anything.” I thought that was an exaggeration until I visited last Christmas. It really is constant!
It drives my mother up the wall sometimes, especially when this affliction seems to conveniently come and go whenever my grandmother does or doesn’t want to do something. Usually, Mom just grits her teeth and never calls her on it.
Last year, my mom was asked to visit them to help with putting up their Christmas decorations. My uncle had apparently been by already and had put up their fake tree, but my mom needed to come over because “it didn’t look right.” My grandmother complained about how awful it looked until mom came to help.
It turns out that my uncle had half-a**ed the job and never opened up the branches properly, so of course, the tree looked awful! Mom spent a few hours redoing this chore and then decorating the tree for my grandmother, who sat and supervised (and complained). Apparently, from across the room, my grandmother was able to see which ornaments Mom was hanging and direct her where to put them or go off down memory lane about where they came from.
Finally, Mom was finished with the tree and asked my grandmother, “How does that look?”
Of course, Mom knew as soon as she’d said it…
“Oh, I don’t know, honey. You know I can’t see anything anymore.”
“Well, you could see well enough to know it looked bad before!”
Suddenly, it seemed my grandmother couldn’t hear, either. Not when someone was calling her on her BS! Mom decided to leave before she lost her cool.
