The emergency callout in the supermarket chain I work in is “Mr. Steed.” I’ve heard it several times throughout my time working. Every single time I’ve heard it, it’s always been a stealthily calm, “Mr. Steed, could you please come to [aisle/service desk]? Thank you,” to deal with a customer who’s starting to get verbally abusive or threatening. Nearly all the altercations have happened at the registers, and the staff there are good at de-escalating situations, while I work in the deli at the other end of the store, so I usually don’t even hear the altercations.

I’m working in the deli, serving customers as usual, when I hear extremely loud shouting from what sounds like a group of young men, erupting from the direction of the registers.

The store announcement is desperately screeching, “MR. STEED! MR. STEED! MR. STEED!”

Many of the customers around me are looking extremely nervous, and some customers from the fresh produce section hurry over to the group of customers waiting at the deli, I assume looking for safety in numbers. I start seriously wondering if I should open the deli gate and let customers in behind the counter, just in case there is a serious risk to their safety. There is another, equally desperate, “MR. STEED! MR. STEED! MR. STEED!” call, I can hear all the able-bodied grocery boys running to the front, and the shouting at the front registers continues for about twenty seconds or so until I assume they are tackled by all the guys who answered the Mr. Steed call.

As I can’t see what’s happening and understandably, none of the customers want to investigate, I don’t find out the bizarre extent of what happened until about half an hour later, when one of the cashiers comes up to the deli during her break.

It started off as an apparently standard shoplifting gig that got caught. It was a group of three or four guys, and the cameras caught them stuffing things into their backpacks, so when they got to the front registers the cashier had to do a bag check. During this check, when all the stolen items were emptied from [Thief #1]’s bag, a wallet came tumbling out onto the pile.

It turns out the wallet belonged to [Thief #2], which I thought was rather funny, but evidently [Thief #2] did not find it so funny. An all-out brawl ensued right there at the registers, which explains the testosterone-saturated shouting I heard. Apparently, stealing from the store is fine, but stealing from your fellow thieves is not!

(I have finished up work for the day and left the now-closed store from the back. I have walked around to the front and through the car park to begin my walk home, still wearing my store staff tags. A car comes hurtling into the car park and the driver, upon seeing me, winds down their window.)

Customer: “Do you work at that store?”

Me: “Yes.”

Customer: “I just put a dress on hold from another store for my daughter — she needs it for tomorrow — so I came here to get it.”

Me: “Well, sorry, but the store is closed; you will have to come back when they open tomorrow.”

Customer: “But I need it now! Can’t you just let me go in and buy it real quick?”

Me: “Ah, no. I am just a staff member; I have no keys to the building or the authority to do that. Also, we have been closed for a good fifteen minutes by now; I’m pretty sure everyone would have left the store by now. It is empty.”

Customer: “But I need it. I will be really quick, I swear.”

Me: “I cannot help you; the store opens at nine tomorrow.” *swiftly continues to walk home and away from this woman*

(I don’t know what possessed her to think a random staff member could open a department store after close, but I was glad I was not rostered the next day!)

(I’m sitting at home and get a call on my phone.)

Caller: “Hi. Can I speak to [Someone Else]?”

Me: “Oh, sorry, you have the wrong number.”

Caller: “Oh.” *pause* “Well, do you know her?”

(Silence.)

Me: “You. Have. The. Wrong. Number.”

Caller: “Oh, okay.” *click*

(I’m a systems and technology librarian. It’s during lunch breaks, so we are low on staff, and I’m the only librarian not at lunch. One of the clerks calls me over to the phone with the description, “Secret librarian business; she won’t tell me what she needs.”)

Me: “Hello. [My Name] speaking. How may I help you?”

Customer: “Are you a librarian?”

Me: “Yes, I am. How can I help you today?”

Customer: “What kind of librarian?”

Me: “Systems and technology.”

Customer: “You’re the wrong librarian.”

Me: “Unfortunately, everyone else is at lunch, so I’ll see if I can help you, and if it turns out that I can’t I will get someone to contact you back.”

Customer: “Are you sure that you are a librarian?”

Me: “Yes.”

Customer: “I used to volunteer at the library in the seventies, and I have never heard of a systems and technology librarian before; that doesn’t sound real.”

Me: “It is a more modern position; with the growing use of technology in libraries, it has become a need.”

Customer: “Because I would rather speak to the children’s librarian.”

Me: “She is at lunch, like I said. Give me a try, and if I’m out of my league, I will get her to call you.”

Customer: “Promise?”

Me: “I promise.”

Customer: “Who writes the Maisy books?”

Me: “Lucy Cousins.”

Customer: “HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT?”

Me: “I have a three-year-old.”

Customer: “I’m going to need that confirmed by the children’s librarian; she will need to contact me before three pm, at [number]. It’s really inconvenient that she’s unavailable. The world just doesn’t stop for lunch.”

(A drunk man has entered our store and asked a few customers for money.)

Manager: “You can’t do that here; you need to leave.”

Man: “But I lost my wallet and I just need some bus fare. Can you give me some?”

(He walks over to stand in front of the manager where there are shelves and our registers between him and her. He’s so drunk he leans against the shelves.)

Manager: “No, I want you to leave now.”

Man: *on his way out* “Some b****** stole my wallet and I just need a little money to get home.”

(He approaches a few passersby outside the store.)

Manager: “That’s it. I’m calling the police”

(She rings the police and as I’m serving I hear her say that the man threatened staff and customers, and she hangs up the phone.)

Manager: “That will get them here quicker”

(By the time the police arrive, the guy has moved on. I leave the manager to talk to them while I keep serving, but can hear the conversation.)

Policeman: “Can you tell us what happened?”

Manager: “A drunk man came in and wanted money.”

Policeman: “He tried to rob you?”

Manager: “No, he asked customers for money for bus fare, and he asked me, too, because he lost his wallet.”

Policeman: “You specifically said he threatened people. What did he do?”

Manager: “He asked customers for money.”

Policeman: “But did he actually threaten anyone?”

Manager: “Uh, no.”

Policeman: “Well, why did you say he did? You know, you could be in trouble for making false accusations.”

Manager: “Oh… I’m [Nationality] and couldn’t think of the right words in English at the time because I was upset; I meant to say I felt threatened.”

(It was not the first time I’d heard her lying to save her own skin, but this time she realised that she could have been in big trouble, and on the occasions that I’ve heard her calling the police, she’s never tried that one again. She had come to Australia as a small child and had spoken English with an Australian accent for over thirty years.)