I’m at the store picking up a few things for baking and can’t remember where to find molasses. Rather than waste time combing up and down the aisles with too many people, I seek out an employee.

I hear someone say, “Excuse me?” a few times with lessening patience. I turn around and see the person and the employee he is trying to call out to. The employee is stocking some canned goods and doesn’t seem to notice the man at all. The customer grabs the employee’s shoulder and scares the crap out of him.

The customer gets in the employee’s face.

Customer: “I know you heard me, dips***! You ignore all your customers?”

When the employee’s back is to me, I see “I am hearing-impaired” in bold white letters on the back of his blue vest. I was heated by the customer already, and knowing he is harassing an employee — an impaired person at that — really burns me up.

I go up to the man as the employee backs away from him, clearly alarmed by the customer’s abrasive action.

Me: “Excuse me, but you don’t need to be so harsh. He wasn’t ignoring you. He’s hearing-impaired.”

Customer: “That don’t mean he can’t hear me talkin’.”

I resist face-palming, especially after touching things in the store. The employee is too unnerved to do anything, so I ask the man what he needs. He says he can’t find something and I tell him exactly what aisle it is in. He leaves, and the shaken employee leans against his locked cart, seemingly on the verge of crying.

My ASL (American Sign Language) isn’t great, but I know enough to be polite.

Me: *Signing* “Are you okay?”

His eyes light up for a moment.

Employee: *Signing* “I’m fine. Thank you.”

He goes on to sign more, but I only catch “jerk” and “rude customers” and “scared,” which is enough for me to get the gist. Over the years in my retail job, I picked up some ASL for retail workers in online videos to be more helpful to the occasional deaf or hearing-impaired customers who came into the store. So, I know enough key signs to hold at least a short conversation.

Me: *Signing* “Sorry, I only know a little ASL.”

He gives me a friendly smile.

Employee: *Signing* “No problem. Did you need help with anything?”

I don’t know the sign for “molasses,” so I spell it and shrug, feeling a little sheepish since I almost never have to sign. He signs to me where to go but I don’t catch much of it, and he can tell. He lets out a little laugh and signals for me to follow him, so I do, and he leads me to the aisle the molasses is in.

I can’t reach it, so I sign for the brand I want. He reaches up and hands it to me.

Me: *Signing* “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

He signs something and points to the jar. He does this twice, and I realize he is teaching me the sign for “molasses.” I sign it back to him and he signs, “Yes!” with a smile. We both laugh and he asks where I learned sign language. I tell him I learned online and just practice every now and then, mostly for fun and because I am fascinated by the language. He reaches into his pocket for a notepad and pen to scribble something. I patiently wait until he hands the paper to me.

Employee’s Note: “You showed me kindness I almost never see. Thank you for helping me and respecting my community when many don’t. Never stop learning. I wish more people were like you.”

Me: *Signing* “Thank YOU. I’m [My Nickname]. Nice to meet you.”

Employee: *Signing* “I’m [Employee]. Nice to meet you.”

Rather than shake hands, we bumped elbows and parted ways. That guy really made my day, and I bet I probably made his week.

When I made my purchase, I saw the rude customer from before in the other line getting an attitude because his card was declining. He noticed me as I grabbed my bags. I gave him a smile, signed, “A**hole,” and left.

Related:
A Sad Sign Of The Times, Part 6
A Sad Sign Of The Times, Part 5
A Sad Sign Of The Times, Part 4
A Sad Sign Of The Times, Part 3
A Sad Sign Of The Times, Part 2

I’m working guest service at a large retail chain. This guest comes in for an order pickup. Okay, no issue, but she’s making a fuss.

Customer: “My fiancé was supposed to get his order, but his name wasn’t on the order.”

Coworker: “With ID, we can add his name to the order, and then he’ll be able to get it.”

We’re getting her iPad, but as we’re doing so, the customer keeps saying:

Customer: “You know, I didn’t wanna come in. I have that disease that everyone is getting right now.”

Yes. THAT disease. She kept saying she had it. Multiple times. In front of all the guests.

So, we got her order and she left. We basically did what we could do to get her out as quickly as possible. We had to tell the closing manager what happened, but that was all we could do.

It’s been months and I’m still at a loss. She could have called and it could’ve been made a drive-up. We’d have done what we could to make it totally contactless.

But no. She had to come in and make a scene. Over an iPad.

We sprayed the heck out of the counter to be safe.

I’m sitting in a waiting area at the grocery store with my brother and I have a large cast on my foot. I get approached by a customer who keeps glaring at me, walking off, and coming back. Eventually, he speaks up.

Customer: “If only someone could be bothered to help me.”

I don’t know if he is talking to me. Frankly, I am in a bit of pain and don’t care if he is. I don’t have the patience today.

Customer: “If only a worker would actually do his job.”

He is staring at me now.

Me: “Are you talking to me?”

Customer: “Yeah, who else would I be talking to?”

Brother: “He makes a good point.”

Me: “Shut up. Don’t wind him up anymore.”

Customer: “Are you going to show me where the rice is or not?”

Brother: “Sure, hop to it, won’t you?”

Me: “Maybe he can just drag me down the aisle and I can point in the right direction.”

Brother: “Nah, better to stick you in his trolley; you could even make the beeping reversing noise as we went.”

Me: “Maybe he could… Oh, wait. He left.

The man apparently finds a manager and drags him over. The manager takes one look at us and turns to the man.

Manager: “They clearly don’t work here, do they? Even if they did, that one has a broken leg. How would he even be able to help you?”

Me: “Oh, we had some suggestions.”

He did not want to hear our suggestions. The man thankfully disappeared after glaring at us some more. We got our things and the leg healed really well.

Related:
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 34
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 33
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 32
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 31

I’m not feeling great and I go to my local large pharmacy. I’m masked up and keeping my distance; unfortunately, this woman isn’t. She looks like she is wandering around aimlessly, but she keeps getting in front of me, indecisively picking up everything or right behind me, impatiently reaching across me.

As I said, I’m not feeling great, and the constant rudeness is getting more and more on my nerves. She ignores all my requests for distance and I eventually cuss her out, so she stays away.

Feeling no better, I get all my medicine, food, and drinks and stand in line to pay. It’s not long before the woman joins the line behind me, no surprise standing way too close.

Me: “You need to back off. Give me some space.”

Customer: “What?”

Me: “Move back and stay back.”

Customer: “Or what?”

I’m not proud of this, but as she spat out the sentence, the pain in my stomach doubled. Without much control, my gaseous medical calamity revealed itself, silently but oh, so noxiously.

The thing about a man in his thirties who has a protein-rich diet with a particular interest in real ale is that this would be a particularly bad event on its own, even if I wasn’t also feeling so unwell.

The woman being so close felt its full force and coughed herself away and out of the shop.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t bear to look the cashier in the eye and had to leave my purchases. Luckily, I managed to get most of what I needed from another store.

I thankfully got better very quickly. As embarrassing as it was, I couldn’t lie, it was a really effective way to deal with these idiots.

Related:
You’ll Back Off One Way Or Another

I went on a winter holiday in Austria. It was my second time snowboarding after finishing my lessons the year before. On the afternoon of our third day there, I was exhausted and I tried to push myself up from a sitting position but fell right away. I felt a small snapping sensation in my right ring finger, but I didn’t think much about it.

Thirty minutes and two ski lifts later, I realized that my finger was swollen. I decided to go back to our hotel. I asked my cousin — a med student — about what I needed to use to reduce the pain. She tried to feel the bone but couldn’t because the finger was very thick already.

Cousin: “Can you bend your finger?”

Me: “Only like a third of the way.”

Cousin: “How painful is it out of ten?”

Me: “I think six.”

Cousin: “I think you just sprained it. Just use the ointment to reduce bruising, wrap it with elastic sport tape to keep it still, and you should be okay in a few days.”

Me: “You don’t think it’s broken?”

Cousin: “You would know it if it was broken. You would feel more pain.”

Me: “I don’t have to go to the emergency clinic here, then?”

Cousin: “Nah. It’s too expensive here. You can wait until we’re back in Amsterdam.”

Me: “Okay.”

A few days after we were back, almost a week after the accident, I had to go to Indonesia. By then, the swelling was gone, but the finger was still crooked and couldn’t bend. I decided to go to a clinic there.

From the x-ray picture, they saw that I had a hairline fracture close to the second joint of my right ring finger. Unfortunately, it had already been too long, so the bone already started healing itself, in the wrong position. Now the finger is forever crooked.

When I told my family about it, [Cousin] received a lot of teasing, and the story is retold every winter holiday. She did not choose orthopedics as her specialty.