I am working a very busy Christmas Eve at the local grocery store as a teen. I am manning one of the registers when a customer comes through my line with two carts full of groceries.
She is huffing and tapping her feet while I scan everything. About halfway through, she tells me:
Customer: “You need to hurry up! I actually have a family to get back to!”
I am working on Christmas Eve, which is fine by me. As soon as I clock out, I go off into the store to finish my own Christmas shopping. I’m not wearing a name tag, and our store doesn’t have vests or anything, so I easily look like any old customer in there.
I end up near electronics, and I am talking to my fiancé on the phone about what to get a particular family member when suddenly a woman just stops a few feet away from me. Not thinking anything of it, I continue my shopping, and then, suddenly, she starts yelling at me.
Customer: “Get off that phone! You should be helping me!”
Me: “I think it’s clear that I am not working when I am on the phone and doing my own shopping. I can’t help you, but there are employees working in electronics who can.”
Customer: “If that is your work ethic, it’s no wonder you work retail!”
Me: “So, retail workers are expected to work for free?”
Customer: “That’s not what I said!”
Me: “So, retail workers are expected to work off the clock?”
Customer: “No! That’s not what I said!”
Me: “You said both of those two things!”
Customer: “Where is your manager?!”
Me: “I’m not at work, so I don’t have one right now. Right now, I am only managed by my cat. I’m on the phone home. Would you like to speak with her?”
The customer shrieks in frustration and storms off.
Me: “Happy holidays!”
Related:
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 47
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 46
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 45
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 44
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 43
It is around Christmas time, and there is a line wrapping back around the wall of chips and soda fridges that separate the self-checkouts from the rest of the store.
I am waiting with a cart, ten or so people back from the self-checkout. Behind me is a very tall woman. She could be trans, but it isn’t any of my business, so I don’t initially pay any attention. Behind her is a middle-aged woman who is complaining about the line to someone on her phone. Behind the complaining woman is a younger, stocky woman.
Complaining Customer: “This is ridiculous. They never have anyone on the registers. Just these stupid self-checkouts!”
That’s not true, but the lines are just as long at each open register.
Complaining Customer: “Nobody wants to work anymore! That’s what the problem is. Fat, lazy, good-for-nothing pieces of trash wanna sit on their a**es with their food stamp cards and their stimulus checks!”
She’s not looking at me, I don’t think, but I’m standing there with my job’s logo on my plus-sized shirt, holding a SNAP card, trying to use up the few benefits I get. I’m feeling a little called out, so I fold my SNAP card back in my hand to hide it.
Complaining Customer: “It’s gonna be the downfall of society. You mark my words. We need a rapture, and we need it now! Then, some of these people, like this [transphobic slur] freak I’m standing behind, are gonna get left behind!”
Years of customer service have given me a de-escalation reaction to things like this. I turn to the woman behind me.
Me: “Ma’am, do you want to go ahead of me?”
She does so, which prompts scoffs and upset noises from the complaining customer, who’s turned her attention to me.
Complaining Customer: “Now this [slur] thinks she can skip the line! This ain’t right.” *Looks directly at me* “You’re not right!”
The young lady behind the complaining customer taps her on the shoulder.
Customer Behind: “Excuse me, ma’am? I just felt the spirit move through me. I’m being led to share my blessings with you. You see, I got a holiday bonus at work today. Do you know what that means for me and my family?”
I can’t tell if the complaining customer’s expression is confusion, disgust, or a small seizure.
Customer Behind: *Big demented smile* “It means I got bail money.”
Our small section of the line went silent. The complaining customer opened her mouth like she was going to respond. The customer behind her put a finger out and shook her head.
The complaining customer promptly got out of line and stomped off.
I am working at the meat counter in the grocery store.
Customer: “I want to order a standing rib roast for Christmas. We have six people.”
Me: “I’d go with three ribs. That’ll give you some for leftovers, too.”
Customer: “No, no, no. I want four ribs.”
Me: “Okay. That’s gonna be a lot.”
Customer: “Four ribs!”
Two weeks later, just before Christmas:
Customer’s Husband: “I’m here to pick up a roast for [Customer].”
Me: “Here ya go!”
Customer’s Husband: “This is huge!”
Me: “The order was for four ribs.”
Customer’s Husband: “There’re only six of us. Can you cut one of these bones off?”
Me: “Um… sure.”
Later, the phone rings.
Customer: “I ordered a standing rib roast with four ribs, and you gave my husband one with three ribs! Where is your manager?!”
I was running errands around town on a day off. I parked at the post office to send a package and noticed a large red truck pull up and park beside me. I didn’t think much of it except that the truck had a large bullet where the antenna would usually be and a former president’s campaign sticker on the door.
I mailed my package and went to my next stop: the pharmacy. When I came out of the pharmacy, I saw the same truck parked in front of my car. It could be a coincidence that we went to the exact same places, right? Small town and all that. There are only so many places you can go.
My third stop was a large grocery store. I parked and got out to get my reusable bags from the trunk. I turned around, and THE SAME TRUCK was pulling in. He parked two spots down from me, which was the closest available place. Now, I was getting concerned. I was a lone woman out and about by myself; this is how missing person reports start.
I went to get a cart, and I heard the driver of the truck getting out, too. I made eye contact with the man and made a show of taking his picture before going inside.
I was coming to the end of an aisle when another cart T-boned mine. It was the man!
Man: *Smiling* “I think you’re stalking me!”
Me: “I know you’re stalking me.”
Man: *Flustered* “N-no. I was just shopping, and you ran into me.”
Me: “No, you ran into me. And you followed me here from the pharmacy. And you followed me there from the post office.”
Man: *Blushing* “I just wanted to ask if you would come to dinner with me. I’ll forgive you for hitting my cart!”
Me: “If I see you again, I’ll slash your f****** tires.”
He walked away. After about ten feet, he turned and called back.
Man: “You’re a crazy c***!”
I laughed and kept walking.
