My friend and I often hang out in the form of running errands together. Last week, I accompanied her on a shopping trip and she wanted to try on some stuff at [Clothing Chain]. I was just there for company and moral support, so I was happily exchanging sizes and colors for her and just chatting through the door while she tried stuff on.

At some point, I took a seat and started doing the Wordle. A woman accompanying her daughter approached me.

Woman: “Excuuuuuuse me. We’ve been watching you running around waiting on this one woman. Meanwhile, we’ve been waiting for five minutes. Can we get a room or what?”

For some reason, I was compelled to apologize and then say I didn’t work there. She didn’t follow up with an apology or anything; she just said, “Okay.”

What is it like to be that bold?

I’m headed to the grocery store to buy more cat treats and cat food. I’m in a grey hoodie, a toque (beanie to you Americans), a grey Guinness tank top, and navy blue pajama pants, and I’m carrying an “Attack On Titan” man purse. I in no way look like an employee anywhere. I’m in what I like to call “bum couture”. I also have headphones in, listening to some music.

I get to the store, jamming out to some Slipknot, and proceed to go about my business. I grab a basket and beeline to the pet aisle. I pass the registers and am instantly accosted by this neon-green-haired woman in her late forties wearing a shawl and looking like she belongs in a craft show. She instantly starts in on me, looking everywhere else but at me.

Woman: “Listen here, little man. I’m looking for dish soap, and I have no f****** clue where you people hide that crap! Show me where it is now!”

I pull out one headphone.

Me: “Pardon?”

Woman: *Groaning angrily* “UGH! Do you morons even listen?! WHERE. IS. THE. DISH. SOAP?!”

She’s snapping her fingers in my face at every word, which instantly pisses me off.

Me: “I know where it is, but with your attitude, I’m not exactly inclined to help you.”

The woman puffs up in indignation.

Woman: “LISTEN HERE—”

I cut her off and yell right back in her face:

Me: “No, you listen here! These people don’t get paid enough to deal with your s***, and I don’t work here, so I’m definitely not getting paid enough to take your nasty s***! How about you open your d*** eyes and look at me? What about my appearance says I work here?! What about my clothing could possibly indicate that I’m employed here?! Hmmmm?

This woman is clearly taken aback that someone dared to talk back.

Woman: “Well, I never!”

An employee comes over from customer service.

Employee: “What’s going on here?

The woman speaks up before I can get a word in.

Woman: “THIS A**HOLE HAS BEEN RUDE TO ME AND DARED TO TALK BACK TO ME! I DEMAND HE BE WRITTEN UP AND FIRED THIS INSTANT!”

Me: “Page a manager, please. Clueless here thinks I work here and also requires glasses.”

The employee bolts to go grab the manager and we stand there. I just fold my arms and wait while the woman hisses vitriol at me about how I’m going to be mega-fired or whatever. I stop paying attention and go back to listening to my music. The employee appears with the store manager minutes later.

Store Manager: “What’s going on here? [Employee] sort of filled me—”

The woman cuts the manager off before he can finish his sentence and goes right back to screaming.

Woman: “THIS LITTLE S*** REFUSED TO SHOW ME WHERE THE DISH SOAP WAS AND WAS RUDE AND INSULTING TO ME! I DEMAND YOU FIRE HIM AND COMPENSATE ME FOR MY TROUBLE!”

Me: “She’s clueless and thinks I work here somehow. I just want cat food and treats.”

Store Manager: “Ma’am, he is plainly a customer. Look at him; PJs aren’t part of the uniform here.”

The woman actually looks at me and really takes in my appearance for the first time. Seeing that I’m literally here dressed like a lazy couch potato, she lets out a weak, “Oh…”

Evidently, she’s a common problem at this store because the store manager surprises me with his next remark.

Store Manager: *Coldly and obviously very annoyed* “Ma’am, this is the third time this week you have abused staff and customers. Leave now, and if we see you here again, you will be trespassed. You are banned from this location indefinitely. Now, please leave.

Enraged, the woman threw her basket to the floor and raged out, screaming about lawyers.

The store manager apologized to me, and the employee gave me a 25% discount on my kitty treats and food. All in all, not bad — all it took was dealing with an idiot for seven minutes.

I used to work in a [Coffee Chain] kiosk before moving to a better coffee shop with tips, privileges, and benefits. I haven’t had one difficult customer since starting there, but today I go to [Coffee Chain] to get my mom and my sister their daily fix, and the line is MASSIVE.

When I quit, I caused a mass quitting, and now there are only three fully-trained baristas there and everyone else is in training. Two trainees are in the kiosk.

Now, I can judge how they’re performing silently all I want, but they’re new, and of course, it’s going to take them more time to get through customers and drink orders, so people should be prepared for a wait when getting in an already massive line.

An older lady gets in line a few people behind me, and I immediately feel bad for the two East-Indian baristas in the kiosk, since this lovely lady is very volatile with POC; it was always my job to handle every part of her order when she came in because I was the only one she wouldn’t yell slurs at. (The store managers wouldn’t allow us to refuse service to her despite how hard I fought for it.)

Eventually, I hear her witch-like, raspy squeal:

Lady: “Why don’t you get in there and help them?”

She isn’t a daily customer, but she comes in at least once or twice a week, and I haven’t worked in the kiosk for six months at this point, so I’m looking around trying to figure out who she’s talking to. She points her cane at me as she speaks again:

Lady: “Get in there and help them! At least you can understand the customers.”

I groan and decide to interact.

Me: “They’re doing just fine. They’re new, so we all have to be patient. And I don’t work here anymore.”

This does not satisfy her.

Lady: “No, you work here! And even if you don’t, you used to, so you can go fix their mistakes!”

Constantly fixing the kiosk’s problems is why I left in the first place.

Me: “Ma’am, even employees can’t go in to help without clocking in or writing it down due to the union and work safety laws. This is especially true for me because I’m a customer just like you are; I don’t work in this establishment anymore!”

Lady: “You know how to use the PA; go call backup for them!”

Me: “I can’t use the PA because I’m not a store employee.”

Lady: “You should at least try, or you could tell the baristas to work faster or something!”

Me: *Less than kindly* “If you don’t want to wait, you don’t have to. Not serving someone as ungrateful as you wouldn’t be heartbreaking for those baristas.”

Thankfully, she shut up after that, instead of her usual tirades. But after she gave up in the line, I saw her talking to one of the supervisors at the customer service desk while I was heading to my car.

I didn’t handle it the best, but years of her being a monster and having to pretend to be nice to her really ate away at me, so I definitely needed the release. Hopefully, our little conflict stops her from going in for quite some time.

I work going door to door for a utility company with a team of five. We all dress the same — in black with our company logos — and in bad weather, we have very warm matching raincoats, also with the logo. We also have badges with our names on them and the company’s information so people know we aren’t random grifters.

On this particular day, there is a downpour so bad that it is one of only two times in four years that our leadership decides to pull us out of the field. As this is rare, we don’t really have a protocol in place, and we are told to hunker down nearby with the company van to see if it gets better before they send us home for the day or back out.

We decide to check out a small sandwich shop one of the guys swears is the best in the area. Wet and hungry, we all think this sounds great and head right on over to get some food while still on the clock and getting paid until we hear back.

The place is small but looks decent, and it’s also part convenience store. They don’t have a counter you order at but an employee that walks around and takes orders. With someone already talking to him, I know it’s going be a minute until all five of us get our orders in, so I elect to go last and check around the store as I’m in no hurry. After looking around, I see that my coworkers have all had their orders in, so I go up to do mine. Due to this, my order is made last and has a bit of a delay.

My four coworkers all sit down and start to eat while I wait for my sandwich. An older lady walks up to me and starts giving me a sandwich order without so much as a hello. I cut her off.

Me: “Oh, I don’t work here.”

To which I get the confusing reply:

Lady: “So, you’re working, you just don’t work here? Uh-huh, sure.”

Then, she rolls her eyes and starts giving me her order again. I put my hand up to cut her off, point to the logo on my jacket — which is still soaked, by the way — and ask:

Me: “Does this look like the store’s name to you?”

My order was announced at this point, so I stepped away, grabbed my sandwich, and smiled at her as I walked by her again to sit with the four people dressed identically to me who were already eating.

You’d think this would be the end of it, with me just eating my sandwich while basking in that lady’s indignation, but no. She stomped off and found the proper person to speak with, dragged him back into view, and started complaining about me while he desperately tried to explain that I didn’t work there.

By the time we finished eating and left, I still don’t think she had placed an order.

I’m picking up food from a restaurant chain. As I get to the door on my way out with my food, a little old lady with a cane is walking up to the door from outside. I hold the door open for her, she thanks me, and I start to head toward my car. I’m stopped by a woman who’s approaching the restaurant with her family.

Woman: “Your parking lot is full! Ugh! You need to put in more parking!”

Me: “What?”

Woman: “I said you need to put in more parking! The parking lot is full! There was nowhere for us to park!”

Me: “Oh! I don’t actually work here.”

Woman: “Oh. Well, I thought you worked here because you were holding the door. Sorry about that.”

She went on inside with her family, leaving me confused. Just because I hold open doors for little old ladies with canes, that doesn’t mean I’m an employee who’s required to do so; I was just being nice. And even if I was an employee, did she want me to go inside and ask some customer eating their dinner to get in their car and scram for this woman and her family?

The really funny part is that this restaurant sits in the middle of a shopping center. Many of the storefronts in said center have been closed and empty for years, so while the restaurant-specific parking area right next to the building is fairly small (and partially taken up by curbside pickup spaces), the parking lot for the whole shopping center always has a TREMENDOUS amount of available parking.

Related:
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
I Don’t Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 42