I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 33

, , , , | Right | May 25, 2018

(I work at a sports shop, and have gone straight from there to an electronics shop, so I can help my dad find the cable he needs. My uniform is very distinct, a bright red polo — with the shop’s name in very big letters on the back — and navy joggers, so as to look sporty. The uniform in the electronics shop is a black dress shirt and dress trousers, so as to look professional. I am currently facing a wall, so I have my back to everyone in the shop. I’m quite irritable due to having a bad shift and having no sleep, and it must be noted I am weird with people touching me depending on how much I know them — strangers often get shouted at and hurt. My dad very rarely intervenes because he know I can handle myself, but will do something if he sees it’s getting out of control. We’re both big swearers.)

Me: “Hey, Dad, pass me that—”

Customer #1: “Excuse me. Can you help me?”

Me: *ignoring them, as I don’t think they’re talking to me* “Pass us that one; I can’t see it from here.”

Customer #1: *taps my shoulder* “EXCUSE ME!”

Me: *CLEARLY irritated by being touched* “What? I don’t work here.”

Customer #1: “I want that TV.”

Me: “Good for you.”

(I turn back around to help my dad, but the customer grabs my shoulder, so I push away from him a little.)

Me: “What the f*** are you playing at? Touch me again and—”

Customer #1: “I want that TV; it’s your job to get it for me. I want to speak to your manager.”

Me: “Well, go into f****** town and talk to her, then.”

Customer #1: “GO GET HER FOR ME!”

Dad: “Listen, mate, she doesn’t work here; she’s helping me because she’s my f****** daughter. Don’t talk to her like that.”

Customer #1: “I’m a paying customer. I demand to speak to your manager.”

Me: “Then go into town and speak to her. I don’t work here; she doesn’t work here. Nobody I work with works here, because I work at [Shop]. Leave me alone before I call the police for harassment and assault.”

Customer #1: “FINE! I’ll find your manager.”

(We don’t see him again. Three minutes later, my back is still facing the shop.)

Customer #2: “Excuse me, miss.”

Me: “Not again.” *turns around*

Customer #2: “Oh! You don’t work here; I’m so sorry.”

Me: “Oh, thank f***.”

I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 32
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 31
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 30

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I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 32

, , , , | Right | March 21, 2018

(I work for an company that does auditing for multiple stores around the city. Our current assignment is to make the inventory at a large store. The employees of the store all have bright blue vests, while us auditors all have dark red shirts with the auditing company’s name on them. A middle-aged man walks up to me while I’m scanning items in the toy aisle.)

Customer: “Hi. Could you show me where to find [Plumbing Product]? I can’t seem to find it.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I don’t work here.”

Customer: “What? Of course you do! You’re working right now!”

Me: “Excuse me. I meant to say that I’m not an employee of [Store]. I’m just doing inventory. I’m not familiar with this particular location.”

Customer: “It’s only going to take a minute! Come on, now.”

(At this point he’s about to grab my arm when I move away. I then notice a couple of [Store] employees who have watched the whole thing with great amusement. One of them comes up to us.)

Employee: “Hello, sir. Can I help you with anything?”

Customer: “Yes! This other guy refuses to help me!”

Employee: “I’m sorry, but he doesn’t work for [Store]. He’s just there to do inventory.”

Customer: “What? How do you tell who works for [Store] and who doesn’t?”

(The employee gestures to her blue vest and then to my red shirt, multiple times, hoping the customer will catch on.)

Customer: “So, who’s going to help me?”

(We all had a mental facepalm, and the employee went to help the customer.)

I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 30
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 29
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 28

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I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 31

, , , , , | Right | March 16, 2018

(This story takes place after I have gotten off work at a well-known box store. I am still wearing the uniform: blue-collared shirt and khaki pants. Since the store I work in doesn’t have a device I am looking for, I go to the electronics store, which features the same colored uniform. At this moment, I’m the section for the devices, comparing prices and specs.)

Customer: “Hello.”

(As I have just gotten off work, my head instinctively goes up and I look around for a few seconds, only to chuckle as I remind myself that I’m just a customer at this store.)

Customer: “Hello!”

(Having finally decided which device I am going to buy, I turn to head out of the aisle and towards games to browse for a little bit while I’m suddenly stopped by a middle-aged man.)

Customer: “Hello! Didn’t you hear me calling for help?! And what do you think you’re doing? You’re not supposed to be shopping!”

(I take a step back in shock as I shake my head a little bit, confused.)

Me: “Huh?” *light bulb* “Oh, sorry, sir! I don’t wo—”

Customer: “Don’t give me that ‘I don’t work here’ bulls***. Why else would you be wearing that getup?!”

Me: “Sir, I don’t wo—”

Customer: “And besides, where’s your name-tag? I want to talk to your manager!”

(Realizing I’m not going to get anywhere with the man, I sigh softly before trying to find an employee, but as I’m walking away…)


(That is loud enough to cause an employee to approach with a confused expression.)

Employee: “Is something wrong here?”

Me: “Yes. This gent—”


(With a little bit of reluctance, the employee radios for a manager, forcing me to wait and taking up all of our time. Once the manager shows up, the customer goes into a full rant about how I was rude to him, shopping on the clock, not wearing my name-tag, etc.)

Manager: *finally able to answer* “He doesn’t work here. I’ve seen him at [My Store].”

Customer: “Oh! So, you admit you know he’s moonlighting! What’s your corporate number and your names?!”

(The manager, looking a little uneasy himself now, gives the number and we, just wanting to humor the guy now, give our names as he proceeds to call corporate to have us all fired.)

Customer: “Yes, I’m at your [Location] store, and three of your employees–” *lists our names* “–are prov…”

(I start to tune him out and stare around at other things, wanting to distract myself from the ignorance of the customer until I hear…)


Me: *now getting pissed off as it’s been at least 15 minutes, if not longer* “I… DO… NOT… WORK… HERE! SEE?!”

(I hope for the best and pull out my store employee discount card. The customer sees that and hangs up, turning red.)


Me: “I… tried… Never mind. Well, this’ll be the last time I come here in my [Box Store] outfit. Sorry. Though, would you mind if I headed to the checkout to pay for this?”

Manager: “Sure. Let me get you the ’employee’ discount, too.”

(I chuckled, but sure enough, he ran his card through for me and saved me quite a bit on the device. I have kept my promise and not worn my [Box Store] uniform in [Electronics Store].)

I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 30
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 29
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 28

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I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 30

, , , , , | Right | January 30, 2018

(After a morning shift, I go shopping at another well-known retail store located at the same shopping centre. I am still wearing my uniform, which is black pants and a black t-shirt with the company’s logo on it, as well as a name badge with a clearly-visible company’s name on it. I am going through a rack of jeans when a lady in her thirties approaches me, holding one shoe.)

Customer: “Get me these shoes, quickly!”

Me: *keeps going through the jeans, as I don’t realise she is talking to me*

Customer: *pokes me* “Hey! Are you deaf?”

Me: *confused* “Sorry?”

Customer: “Get me these shoes. Quickly, quickly, quickly! I am in a rush!” *starts to walk away* “I will be over there. I have to get a blouse.”

Me: “Oh, I am sorry, but I don’t—”

Customer: “I don’t want to hear anything! And I want a fresh pair from the back!” *just walks away*

(I try to find a shop assistant to help her out, but this is a busy period and no one is available. I can’t see the lady anywhere, so I just put the shoe back where she found it. After 15 minutes, I am carrying on with my shopping, and the same lady approaches me again.)

Customer: “Are you f****** kidding me?! I have told you I am in a rush; I don’t have the time to look for your f****** a**!”

Me: “I am very sorry for all the confusion, but I don’t work here.”

Customer: *gives me a blank stare* “You are kidding me, right?”

Me: *smiling* “No, I work at [Company]; I am just shopping after my shift.”

Customer: *freaks out* “I am going to get that stupid smile off your face, you f******  b****! You dare to lie in my face! You are wearing your uniform and you work here! I remember you serving me upstairs!”

(The store we are in at the moment only has one floor, and I actually work upstairs at the home department at [Company]. I explain this to the customer politely and apologize one more time for all the confusion.)

Customer: “Do you think I am stupid or what? You work in the same place! This same f****** building! You are wearing your uniform; it means you have to help me! I want to speak to your manager now! I would love to get your a** fired!”

Me: *getting annoyed* “Listen, lady: I have told you several times that I don’t work here!”

Customer: “Manager, now!”

Me: *losing it* “Seriously, f*** off! I do not work here! It is impossible to get my manager, because I work in a different store! I have just finished my shift, and I am shopping here before going home, so if you could just, please, leave me alone!”

Customer: *stares at me a little bit* “Jesus, why didn’t you say so?” *walks away*

(After two weeks, the same woman approaches me on the shop floor while I am working.)

Customer: “You do work here, right?”

Me: *nods*

Customer: “Good. I need some help picking up a wedding present.”

I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 29
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 28
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 27

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I Don’t Work Here: The Schooling Edition

, , , , , , , , | Friendly | January 4, 2018

(I’m 17 and I’ve just moved in with my grandparents so I can attend the college of my choice with a lot shorter commute than if I stayed living in London, where I was born. It’s 7:15 am, and I’m in the local supermarket to buy lunch for the day. I’m wearing black jeans and a purple polo neck shirt with my college name and course embroidered on it. I’m also wearing a black hoodie decorated with the logo of a Morris group I side with, I have a bright yellow cartoon bag on my shoulder, and I’m using my phone as I walk along the aisle. The shop employees wear smart trousers, and a blue shirt in a different material and style. I also grew up in South London, so I learned pretty quickly as a kid that I needed to be verbally aggressive to make up for my small size of 5’2″.)

Random Lady: *taps me on the shoulder* “Excuse me! Excuse me, boy!”

Me: “Hey, what are you doing? Get off me!”

Random Lady: “Don’t be so rude! Get off your phone and help me find the fresh vegetables.”

Me: “They’re right at the front of the shop; you had to walk past them to come here and attack me. Now, p*** off.”

Random Lady: “EXCUSE ME?! Where’s your manager? You’re so rude! How dare you be so rude?!”

Me: *turning properly so she can see my shirt* “What colour is my shirt?”

Random Lady: *stutters and blinks* “Uh, purple. Why? What’s that got to do with anything?”

Me: “Can you read, or are you illiterate as well as rude? What does my shirt say?”

Random Lady: “I— What? It says [College, Course].”

Me: “I don’t know what the f*** you think you’re doing, but I clearly don’t work here. I’ve been up all night working on coursework so I’ve had three hours sleep. I recently moved house, I’m trying to make new friends as all mine live two hours away, and it’s seven fifteen in the f****** morning. Don’t touch me again, and don’t ever treat an actual employee as rudely as you just treated me. Got it?”

Random Lady: *stares at me with her mouth open, looking like an oversized salmon, then nods*

Me: “Good. Now, f*** off.” *I go and pay for my food and massive energy drink*

(After paying, I headed to the bus station to wait for my bus, and as I got on, who should I see walking past but our dear [Random Lady]? She caught sight of me as I was standing in the door paying for my ticket, then scurried away, avoiding looking in my direction.)

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