I’m a retired investigator, and this happened over two decades ago.

I was called by dispatch to a bank robbery in which the subject threatened the teller with what he claimed was an explosive device and left a box at the teller’s window. Rather than wait for the automatic doors at the entrance to open, he smashed the glass and fled.

I arrived at about the same time that a couple of other detectives did, and the EOD [Explosive Ordnance Disposal] truck drove up a few minutes later. The patrol sergeant had set up two safe zones: one for the employees and customers and one for the investigative team. We went to one of the safe zones, which was right near the front entrance, far enough removed from the device with a wall between us. Some beat officers then replaced the crime scene tape over the door.

About ten minutes later, a dude came sauntering up to the entrance, wormed his way through the tape like Spider-Man, crunched over the shattered glass, and walked up to us. We just watched as it was so surreal that someone would do that. He appeared to be on a mind-altering substance, wobbly with red eyes. He handed us a check.

Dude: *In a sleepy voice* “Hey, dudes, I need you to cash my check.”

Now, mind you, we were wearing vests and had badge necklaces. Plus, the EOD guy was in his marshmallow suit nearby, prepping his gear.

One detective shook his head.

Detective: “Bro, did you not see the crime scene tape and the broken glass?”

Another detective pointed to our vests and badges. The man shook his head as if waking up.

Dude: “Ohhh. I didn’t know what that was.”

I just chuckled and escorted him back to the entrance.

Me: “It’s not safe for you in here, so why don’t you go home and sleep it off? Come back in a couple of hours. I’m sure the bank will be open again by then.”

A big grin lit up his face.

Dude: “Great idea, dude!”

With that, he got back in his car and left.

Nothing fancy. It was just amusing.

Aftermath: the device turned out to be a box of batteries stuffed with wires. We got fingerprints on the batteries, ID’d the mope, and put it out on the news. His mom dimed out his location and he surrendered peacefully. Also, the patrolman who was supposed to be watching the door got a talking-to.

I am talking with a manager and see an elderly lady approach us. Just as I think she’s about to ask us a question, she starts talking to a young girl who is also browsing the aisle.

Customer: “You! Tell me where the vitamins are!”

Young Girl: “I… don’t know.”

Customer: “What do you mean you don’t know?! Why don’t you know?!”

Young Girl: “I’m thirteen.”

Customer: “So?!”

Young Girl: “I don’t work here!”

My manager decides to step in.

Manager: “Ma’am, she’s thirteen. She obviously doesn’t work here.”

Customer: “Back in my day, this country put thirteen-year-olds to work!”

Manager: “Ma’am, back in your day, this was still a colony, not a country. Please stop bothering children.”

As winter is getting worse, I am finding that my old trainers are in dire need of replacement. I’ve had them for a few years, and the soles have been worn smooth. Any trip outside is becoming alarmingly slippery.

I’m down at my local shoe shop, in the men’s section. For a little bit more context, I’m transitioning. On a good day, I look sort of androgynous, but I certainly still need men’s size shoes.

I’ve been standing there for a while being indecisive about brand/colour. I’ve already been asked by a few different employees if I needed any help, but I declined. I am trying to force myself to choose when an elderly lady comes up near me and starts chatting. She’s very friendly and polite, and I’m happy to make small talk with her, too.

Old Lady: “I’m looking for some shoes for my grandson’s Christmas, but I don’t really know what style he’d like.”

She’s obviously fishing for suggestions, and I’m all too happy to try to help. I spend maybe five minutes suggesting pairs to her until she decides on something she thinks he will like. At that point, the issue turns to size.

Old Lady: “Do you have the right size in stock?”

It finally dawns on me then that she’s mistaken me for a store employee!

Me: *Embarrassed* “I’m sorry, but I don’t work there.”

She seems to find the mistake hilarious, but she does apologise, too, before moving on to find an actual employee. By this time, I’ve pretty much decided what I want myself, and having selected the shoes I like, I ask for my own size.

Skipping forward a little, I end up being behind the lady at the checkout. As she is being rung up by the employee, she turns to me.

Old Lady: “I’ll be paying for hers, as well.”

Me: “Oh, no, seriously it’s fine!”

Old Lady: “You’re going to refuse a fussing Grandma over Christmas?”

I caved into her fussing with a compromise, suggesting that I use my student discount for the both of us. She seemed pleased enough with that, and we both went our ways quite happy with the result.

It’s around 2006. I work in a department store. I have the day off, and school is starting soon, so I take my kids to the store to find some good buys. I am dressed in a tank top and shorts.

I am in the children’s department, and my kids are trying on clothes. They hand me the ones they want, and I put them by the register. The woman working in that department tells me she needs to use the restroom and she’ll be right back.

My kids make their final choices and I put them by the register. I am waiting for the woman to get back so she can check us out. I hear a man’s voice say, “Hey!” I turn around and there’s a man standing behind me.

Me: “I’m sorry, am I in your way? The lady who works here stepped away and will be back soon.”

Customer: “I need to check this out.”

Me: “The lady that works here stepped away and she will be back soon.”

Customer: “No, I want you to check me out. I know you work here. I just saw you behind the register.”

Me: “No, sir, I can’t check you out. I do work here, but this is my day off and I am shopping with my kids.”

Customer: “So? You are still an employee; it doesn’t matter if it’s your day off.”

Me: “Actually, yes, it does. I am not scheduled to work today, and I am not clocked in. It’s against policy to work off the clock.” 

Customer: “Just ring me up!”

I tell the kids we are going to the food court to get lunch, and we walk away from the man.

Customer: “Hey, where are you going? You need to ring me up!”

Me: “Well, unless you are paying me for my time, then I won’t be helping you.”

I come back thirty minutes later and go to get the clothes from the children’s department, and the lady working there stops me.

Employee: “You’ll never guess what just happened.”

Me: “What?”

Employee: “A man was complaining about an employee not wanting to ring him up, and he asked for the manager.”

She then tells me that about the conversation that happened when the manager came over.

Manager: “What seems to be the problem?”

Customer: “Your employee would not ring me up.”

My manager looks over at the lady employee.

Customer: “No, not her. This one was blonde.”

Manager: “I’m afraid that we don’t have a blonde employee that works in this department.”

Customer: “Yes, you do. She was wearing shorts, and she had two kids with her.”

Manager: “It sounds like you mistook a customer for an employee.”

Customer: “No, she said it was her day off, and she said she couldn’t ring me up because she was not on the clock.”

Manager: “I’m sorry, sir, but if you did encounter an employee of ours, and they were off the clock, they would not be able to ring you up.”

Customer: “No, if they are an employee, they are an employee at all times.”

Manager: “No, company policy says that if they’re not clocked in, they cannot work.”

Customer: “That’s stupid!”

Manager: “Sir, where do you work?”

Customer: “I am an assistant manager at a restaurant.”

Manager: “Okay, well, if you went in to eat at your restaurant on your day off, and a customer asked you to cook his food for him, would you do it?”

Customer: “No, I would not! I am not working that day or getting paid for it, so why would I?”

Manager: “Exactly my point.”

Customer: “She still could have rung me up!”

Manager: “Sorry, sir. We do not want your business. Please leave and don’t come back.”

I regret ever saying that it was my off day. If anyone ever asked again, I just would tell them I don’t work here. 

Related:
I Do Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 4
I Do Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 3
I Do Work Here, Does Not Work Here, Part 2
I Do Work Here, Does Not Work Here

I live close to a zoo and am a member, so I visit regularly and have come to know the keepers and the animals. I suppose I’ve begun to exude an air of confidence while I am there because people come up to me ALL the time to ask for help with directions, information on the animals, etc.

Customer: “You there! Over here, now! Tell me about this one!”

The customer actually stabbed a finger in my direction and then jabbed it toward her feet in a demanding way.

With a “Seriously?” look on my face, I walked over to the information board in front of the exhibit and began reading out loud, using my finger to trace the words as I went.

Customer: “STOP THAT, SMARTA**! I said tell me about it, not read it! You should have it memorized already!”

I mean, yes, I guess I pretty much do, but I have no obligation to play tour guide to anyone — especially not someone who makes demands.

Me: “The board is literally six inches from your left hand. You can read it yourself.”

Customer: “Are you refusing to do your job, in front of witnesses?!”

Me: “No. I’m telling you, in front of witnesses, that I don’t work here, and you can read it yourself, which is what these information boards are for.”

Customer: *Sputters briefly* “Well, what if I can’t read?! What then?!”

Me: “Then you nicely ask your friends, family, or a kind stranger to read it for you. But since you were so rude, and since you very loudly told me that you don’t want me to read it, I guess you’re out of luck.”

I then walked away.