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And I Wasn’t Even Wearing My Employee Costume

, , , , | Right | CREDIT: RainbowSprinkles4 | January 7, 2023

It is Halloween, and I’m shopping, standing in the baking aisle of a crafts store. I am wearing a Halloween sweater, a skirt with a book pattern all over it, and combat boots. I have a handbag over my shoulder and keys in my hand.

Old Lady: “You! Hey!”

Me: “Me?”

Old Lady: “You work here?”

Me: “No?”

Old Lady: *Shouting* “I need someone to cut some fabric for me!”

Me: “Oh, I think there are some cashiers at the registers in the front.”

Old Lady: *Shouting louder* “I don’t want to have to walk back up there!”

Me: “Oh, okay.”

I go back to looking at frosting tips.

Old Lady: “Well?!”

Me: “Huh?”

Old Lady: “My fabric?!”

Me: “I don’t think the actual employees would want me doing that.”

Old Lady: *Sneering* “Oh, like you’re so busy?”

Me: “I DON’T WORK HERE.”

Old Lady: “Then what are you doing here?!”

Me: “Spending some hard-earned American money?”

Old Lady: “Don’t get sassy! I’m going to report you to a manager!”

Me: “They have no jurisdiction over me. Do you want to call my mom?”

We’re Believin’ In Steven

, , , , , , | Right | January 3, 2023

I was in an electronics store browsing through laptops when I noticed a young man standing near me. He looked to be somewhere between sixteen and eighteen, neatly dressed in a dress shirt and tie with polished shoes, hair slicked and gelled back, and he was wearing a name tag that said, “Steven”. (Name has been changed.)

Me: “Hi. Would you recommend the AMD or Intel processors for graphics design?”

Steven: “Is this for like a commercial setting? Home office?”

I explained exactly what it was I was looking to do. He launched into a very thorough and detailed explanation of what sort of computer hardware was appropriate for what. He brought me to a couple of display laptops and gave a well-formulated recommendation of what he’d personally go with. He ended it by taking out his phone and directing me to some tech websites that would further help. I was so impressed with his professionalism and courtesy that I decided to buy the laptop to make it worth his while.

Steven: *Smiling brightly* “Great! Let me know how it works out, or if you have any questions or whatever; here’s my Twitter and Facebook.” *Scribbling them down and handing the note to me* “Gotta run now, though. Take it easy!”

Thinking his shift was over and that he’d helped me more than enough, I smiled and thanked him.

I bought the laptop and later left a five-star review, specifically mentioning Steven and praising his excellent job. The store responded to the review.

Store: “Do you have the right business? We don’t have anyone named Steven who works here.”

Oh, it gets better. I checked out his Facebook… and discovered that he was only fourteen years old!

Customers: Complaining Since 1799

, , , , , , | Right | January 3, 2023

I’m a tourist at a popular living history museum, where many of the employees roleplay that they are living in the Revolutionary War and wear historical clothing. At the time I’m visiting, they are still actively encouraging guests to dress up, too. As I’m a hobbyist reenactor, I bring along my own eighteenth-century garb and play along.

My outfit is very authentic, and because I’m aware that this makes me look like an employee and I’m inevitably going to get asked for directions, I’ve scanned the visitor map and memorized a few key things that people tend to ask for. I’m actually kind of proud of myself for being able to point a few people in the right direction, despite the fact that I’ve never been there before.

At one point, my phone starts buzzing in my pocket, and I step off to the side of the street to answer it. I notice a few people giggling and taking pictures of me. I also see someone out of the corner of my eye standing nearby, looking uncomfortable. When I finish my call, she gets my attention.

Woman: “Excuse me, do you work here?”

Me: “No, sorry! It’s actually my first time here, too. If you’re looking for a restroom, though, I found one right over there, just beyond that souvenir stand. The entrance is on the other side.” *Points* 

Woman: “Oh, no, apologies for disturbing you. I’m a manager here.”

I’ve been on autopilot during this conversation and finally get a good look at her. She’s wearing a museum-branded polo shirt and holding a walkie-talkie.

Woman: “I got a complaint about an employee using a modern cellular device while in costume in the historic area.”

Me: “Oh. No, I… uh… I just like to dress up? I don’t even live in this state.”

I show her my visitor pass.

Woman: “…Okay. Sorry about that again. Enjoy your stay.”

Me: “Er, thank you?”

I’m not sure what was more stunning — that some other visitor had essentially tattled on me to management or that the management didn’t recognize their own employees and costumes.

The next time I had to make a call, I ducked into a less-busy area. The guy playing George Washington walked by at one point and gave me a weird look, but that I could deal with.

But How Did She Find You?!

, , , , , , , , , | Right | January 2, 2023

I’m shopping at a local supermarket, reaching up to get some food from a higher shelf, when a really prim woman walks up to me and starts to ask if I can fetch a bunch of things for her.

Me: “I don’t work here, sorry.”

She turns her nose up at me. Knowing how this goes from reading this site, I’m bracing for this whole song and dance.

Woman: “Well, can you help me anyway?”

Me: “No, I’m sorry. I have to finish my shopping and get to an appointment.”

She looks even angrier but drops it, and I breathe a sigh of relief at avoiding having a story to tell.

Or so I think, until about three days later when I’m at my job (working with insurance) and my manager gets a call complaint that cites me by name. My manager calls me in, laughing, to play the message back.

Woman: “You need to fire [My Name]! That [transphobic slur] refused to help me with my groceries!”

This is especially confusing because I’m cis male and look it.

Woman: “How you can allow anyone like that to work at an establishment like yours if they can’t practice good customer service even at a job that isn’t their own?”

While we both laughed at it after hearing it, I paused to realize that this woman had somehow managed to find my name and my place of employment without me volunteering any of that information. And she seemed to take it personally, in a demented fashion, that I wouldn’t take time out of my day to spend fifteen to thirty minutes helping her shop.

She called back daily, getting more openly threatening and viler in her speech until we blocked her number. Somehow, she kept escalating it until she found the direct line to our CEO…

…who, not having any of the lady’s nonsense, proceeded to call the police on her for stalking his employees and harassing me and the business — without so much as a word of warning — and the calls stopped. I never saw her at that grocer again.

Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Boobies

, , , , | Right | December 26, 2022

I’m a woman working at the auto parts counter — Will Call — where I help bring people their parts. Right in front of me, a customer decides I have less than no idea what the h*** I’m talking about and turns to a regular standing nearby.

Customer: “You look like you know what you’re doin’. Are you a tech? I need [starts describing his parts].”

The regular points to me — on the JOB SIDE of the counter.

Regular: “I don’t work here; I’m picking up something, too.”

I take back the conversation.

Me: “Sir, are you picking up today?”

Customer: “Yeah, I’m looking for someone in Parts ‘cause I have a question.”

Me: “How can I help you?”

He keeps looking at my T-shirt (my boobs) and not facing me fully.

Customer: “Yeah, I just need to talk to someone about my repairs.”

As if I’m a florist, not a parts employee.

Me: “Okay, so you haven’t created an order yet?”

Customer: “No, I have a question.”

Me: “Cool, maybe I can direct you to the right place. You’re at Will Call. Service is—” *points* “—that way, and Sales is—” *points* “—up front. That’s where you can create an order.”

He literally balks like I’M THE ONE CONFUSED and starts heading out the door.

I look back at our regular customer.

Me: “You caught that, right? I don’t know a d*** thing about the auto parts I sling every day because I was born with t**ties?”

Regular: *Cracking up* “I guess so!”

Related:
Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 25
Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 24
Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 23
Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 22
Can’t Hear You Over The Sound Of Your Ovaries, Part 21