I’m in the dairy section of the supermarket, paralyzed with indecision over something irrelevant that I won’t bore you with, when I hear muffled music approaching me.

I turn to see [Customer #1] pass me by. She’s a young-looking woman built like a warrior, wearing gigantic ear-consuming headphones. I recognize the model as one that is advertised as wireless but is compatible with an aux cord; she is using the corded function. She’s also dressed in a black [Video Game] T-shirt and pushing a shopping cart.

I dismiss it as a strange encounter and go back to trying to make my choice… and about a minute later, I hear this.

Customer #2: “Hey! Aren’t you going to help me?”

I turn to find a very skinny guy with a very dominating voice standing next to [Customer #1] and yelling at her. She doesn’t seem to notice him, grabbing a few items off the shelf.

Customer #2: “Hey! I’m talking to you!”

[Customer #1] continues to ignore him, starting to push her cart and continue down the aisle.

Customer #2: “Don’t you walk away from me! Do your job! Listen when I’m talking to you!”

He grabs [Customer #1] by the arm; she proceeds to turn around and grab his arm in turn, holding it still so she can wrench her arm free. She then proceeds to turn away and resume pushing her cart.

Customer #2: “Hey, you can’t treat your customers like that! Get back here!”

Out of equal parts morbid curiosity and an unfounded worry that [Customer #1] might need help, I go to follow them. [Customer #2] continues to yell at her and try to get her attention all the way to the (nearly empty) tills. As she’s pushing her cart into line, [Customer #2] grabs her headphones by the cord, wrenching them off of her head and disconnecting the other end of the cord from whatever they were connected to.

[Customer #1] immediately turns around, seizes the headphones, and pulls them away hard enough to disconnect the cord, putting them back atop her head and turning away again before loading her groceries onto the conveyor. [Customer #2] is left holding the cord.

One of the workers — dressed in blue and wearing a lanyard — approaches [Customer #2].

Worker: “Sir, I need you to give that back.”

Customer #2: “Your worker is refusing to help me!”

Worker: “She doesn’t work here. She’s a customer like you. I need you to give her cord back and leave her alone.”

[Customer #2] continued to yell at the guy, but [Worker] was having none of it. He took the cord away from [Customer #2] and told him to leave. When [Customer #2] was escorted out, [Worker] approached [Customer #1] as she was wrapping up her transaction, gently tapping her shoulder to get her attention.

[Customer #1] looked at him and saw him holding out the cord. Before [Worker] could even explain himself, she nodded her head, accepted the cord from him, shoved it into her pocket, and started loading her groceries into her cart.

She did not say a word from the moment I saw her until the moment I saw her cord returned. I went back to my own grocery shopping, absolutely baffled at how she had managed to have an “I don’t work here” encounter without a single word.

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I had just seen my partner off at the railway station. I was at the station entrance, just waiting to be picked up. I looked nothing like an employee. I was wearing a purple sweater and a purple backpack, and I was carrying shopping bags. I also had a green sunflower lanyard that — here in the UK, at least — people with invisible disabilities wear to alert staff that we’re disabled.

I was just browsing my phone. A rather irritated guy was walking around, and then he looked at me.

Guy: “Do you work here?”

Me: “No, sorry, I don’t.”

He pointed to a security guard in the distance.

Guy: “Do they work here?”

Me: “I’m not sure.”

I mean, I didn’t know whether they were by the station or employed by someone else to cover the station.

Guy: “I need to get a ticket!”

Me: “Oh, there’s a ticket machine over there. You can use that to buy a ticket!”

Guy: “I tried that, but it’s not working!”

And then I went back to my phone, thinking this was over. About thirty seconds later, I saw the jerk pointing his phone at me and, bizarrely, recording my disability lanyard.

Guy: “I’m recording this!”

Me: “What?”

Guy: “I’m recording this! You can’t be bothered to help get me a ticket!”

Me: “I just said I don’t work here!”

The guy turned to the security guard who had gotten closer.

Guy: “Where can I get a ticket? That machine’s broken!”

The security guard said something. I couldn’t really process what they said as I was too dumbfounded processing what was going on. I assume they said they couldn’t help him?

Guy: “You guys can’t be bothered! He—” *points at me* “—can’t be bothered!”

Me: “I can’t help you! I DON’T WORK HERE!”

And then the jerk started walking toward the ticket area, rambling about not being able to get his ticket. I don’t know what happened, but he did attract a crowd, and then the security guard had to stop him from whatever he was doing. Did he not know he could just buy a ticket from his phone?

That said, I wish he had uploaded the video. I would’ve loved to have a link to the altercation.

At only eighteen years old, I managed to land a job at a bank. My grandmother was so proud of me that she bought me three full three-piece suits with matching ties and dress shoes. It turned out to be a slight bit of an overdress; my coworkers would joke that I was dressed better than the manager, while the manager himself once joked to a customer, “Our bank president here can explain it further if you have any questions.”

It got even funnier when I would go to a mall after work and someone would come up to me and ask, “Excuse me. Are you the manager?”

It stopped being funny when I was in a restaurant waiting for my order to be prepared and suddenly a child in a nearby restroom began screaming. A man got directly nose-to-nose in my face and screamed:

Man: “Do you not hear my daughter screaming in your f****** bathroom stall?! And you’re just standing there like a g**d*** clueless fool?! Go unlock it and get her out of there!”

A kid nearby yelled:

Kid: “Dad! That’s not the manager! I just watched him order something!”

And the manager behind the counter said:

Manager: “Is there a problem here?”

As the man went over and explained that his daughter had locked herself in a stall and couldn’t open it, I couldn’t help but notice how deep red his face was.

To his credit, though, while I was eating my meal, he came over to my table with his hand extended, admitted to being “totally out of line and acting like a complete jacka**,” and apologized to me while offering to pay for my order. I politely declined the offer but accepted the apology.

But from then on, I’d leave the jacket part of my suits at home and would take my tie off when I was inside a business.

I worked at an American Chinese fast food chain during my senior year. I didn’t turn eighteen until a few months after graduating high school, but my parents “allowed me” more freedom than most in my circumstance.

There was a [Retail Chain] next to where I worked, and I often stopped by to pick up snacks or sodas before work. Because my work shirt was red, I often got mistaken for a [Retail Chain] employee, but nothing like this.

One particular summer day, I went to [Retail Chain] while on break to buy a new water bottle as I had accidentally broken mine during my shift and wanted to get it replaced. Corporate was really stingy and deducted money from our checks if we used the cups at work, and it was hot outside, so it was better to get a cheap replacement and a snack while on break.

While I was wandering the store with plenty of time to spare, I noticed that someone was following me. At first, I thought it was a coincidence, but after the fifth detour aisle, I realized she was following me. Being only seventeen, I was actually a bit nervous. I finally mustered up the courage to face her.

Me: “Can I help you with something?”

Woman: “It’s about time! I’ve been trying to get your attention for forever now.”

I often wore headphones as I had severe social anxiety and didn’t like being in public areas that were crowded like this.

Me: “Well, can I help you or…?”

Woman: “Is that how you treat your customers? Talk about poor customer service.”

I was genuinely confused until I realized that she, like so many people before her, had confused me for a [Retail Chain] worker DESPITE the fact that I had a giant panda on the back of my shirt along with the company name. These types of encounters were normally pretty easy, but this lady wasn’t having it.

Me: “Ma’am, I don’t work here.”

Woman: “DON’T GO LYING TO ME LIKE THAT! HOW DUMB DO YOU THINK I AM?!”

At this point, we had attracted the attention of a few employees, who called for their supervisor. As I tried to reason with this lady, the supervisor showed up and took over the conversation.

Supervisor: “Is there a problem here?”

Woman: “This employee is walking around and ignoring customers. She was extremely rude to me, and I want her fired.”

The supervisor looked at me and saw the [Fast Food Chain] logo on my shirt.

Supervisor: “Ma’am, she doesn’t work here.”

Woman: “ARE YOU CALLING ME STUPID?!”

At this point, she started toward me. I backed away, trying to hide behind the supervisor while struggling to understand what her problem was. She reached around the supervisor and grabbed a fistful of my shirt before either of us was able to react. She tugged so hard at my shirt that it almost slipped over my head, and I started crying at this point.

Woman: “SEE?! SHE’S WEARING A RED SHIRT, SO SHE MUST BE AN EMPLOYEE HERE! I WANT HER FIRED!”

Me: “Let go of me, please!”

Thankfully, one of my mom’s friends happened to be shopping that day with her kids. She saw this woman holding me by the shirt, immediately walked up to the woman with her kids (one of whom was my age) in tow, and grabbed the woman by the arm.

Mom’s Friend: “What on Earth do you think you’re doing? Get your hands off that child now!”

The woman paused for a moment and looked from me to [Mom’s Friend] and back again.

Woman: “She’s not a child. She’s a young adult.”

Me: *Still trying to get free* “I’m seventeen, lady, and for the last time, I don’t work here.”

At this point, you could hear a pin drop from across the room, and I thought that the woman was going to just let go and leave me alone. However, she huffed and looked away.

Woman: “Being seventeen practically makes you an adult. And that’s no excuse to act so rudely.”

The employees and the supervisor had had enough by this point and were already calling the police while my friend (who had seen me bullied all throughout high school) attempted to calm me down.

Mom’s Friend: “Where is your mom?”

Me: “She’s likely at home since I’ve been at work. I came to buy a new water bottle after breaking mine.”

[Mom’s Friend] actually paid for my water bottle. She told me to go back to work so that I wouldn’t get into trouble, but she also warned me that the police might be coming by to talk to me. I didn’t think anything of this and did exactly as she said, knowing that I was never going to hear the end of it from my mom when I got home that night.

As [Mom’s Friend] warned, the police showed up at work later that day and asked a few questions. My boss didn’t seem to mind as I explained what happened as soon as I got back.

I never heard what happened to the woman, but my mom told me not to let an adult grab me like that again as “they could be arrested for assaulting a minor.”

I’m constantly told that I’m like a taller version of my older brother with a deeper voice, but other than that, we are basically the same. We wear the same clothes, and I guess our mannerisms are pretty similar.

Around two or three years ago my older brother worked at a [Store]. One day, my brother’s car broke down and we had to take him to the store. I went to buy a Halloween mask while my brother was in the store working. I ran into his boss while I was crouching down, looking for a mask.

Boss: “Go get on a register!”

Me: “Yeah, I don’t work here.”

She looked kind of confused. I wasn’t able to find the mask, so I just stood up and went to tell my brother goodbye. His boss came stomping down, and I guess she wanted to scold me until she saw me high-fiving my brother. As I was leaving, I heard her say:

Boss: “Is that your twin brother?”

Brother: “Nah, that big guy right there is six years younger than me.”

I don’t really know how she confused me as an employee since I wasn’t wearing a red shirt, which all employees have to wear.

Related:
Oh, Brother! – Part 7
Oh, Brother! – Part 6
Oh, Brother!, Part 5
Oh, Brother! – Part 4
Oh, Brother! – Part 3