I’m with my two boys doing some grocery shopping. I used to work at this store, but I quit a few months back. But it’s still nice to say hello to some coworkers I used to enjoy working with.
I get in line at the checkouts, and the customer in front of me turns to see me.
Customer: “Oh, good! I forgot the pasta. Can you run and grab some for me since I’m already in line?”
Me: “Uh… I mean, I’m happy to have one of my kids hold your place in line for you if you want to go get something, as long as you’re quick?”
Customer: “I beg your pardon?!”
Me: “Uh…”
Customer: “You’re expecting me to go get it myself?! Fine! Not only will you be getting my pasta, you’ll also be getting your manager so that I can complain about you!”
It dawns on me what’s happening.
Me: “Ma’am, I don’t work here. I’m a customer.”
Customer: “I see you working here all the time!”
Me: “I used to work here, but I quit a few months ago.”
Customer: “Well then, it’s your fault for looking like you work here!”
Me: “Uh, how? I’m not in uniform and I’m here with my children!”
Customer: “Well, how the h*** am I supposed to know that!? You could be training new workers!”
Me: “They’re ten and twelve!”
Customer: “Good! Kids their age should be working instead of running around chasing those Pokémon things!”
Boys: *Both looking up from their Nintendos, both in unison.* “There are Pokémon?”
Me: “No boys, just a lady who isn’t minding her own business.”
Customer: “So rude!”
Me: “Coming from the woman demanding I leave my kids behind to fetch her pasta, even after I offered to keep your place in line for you.”
Customer: “Where do you work now?! I’m going to go there and let them know what a nasty woman they’ve hired!”
Me: “Full-time housewife, hun. My boss is the cat, and—” *I pat the premium cat food I have in my cart.* “—I’m getting good performance reviews all the time.”
The customer turns around, enraged but silenced, as she moves into the checkout area to start unloading her groceries. I can hear her complaining to the cashier about me, desperate to get me reprimanded in some form for daring to not let her get her own way.
The cashier looks over to me, smiles, waves at me, and then says something to the customer that forces her to stand there in silent fury for the rest of the transaction.
When it’s my turn to get rung up.
Me: *To the cashier.* “Sorry, she was crazy.”
Cashier: “Yeah! She was demanding that the store ban you as a customer for being disrespectful.”
Me: “What did you say to her?”
Cashier: “That you, while you worked here, you were our mama-bear who protected us from vindictive customers who tried to get us fired for small mistakes, and if the manager came down here to hear both customers’ sides of the story the one getting banned wouldn’t be the one she liked.”
Adding yet another reason to the list of why I loved working with my ex-coworkers!
Related:
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 54
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 53
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 52
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 51
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 50