I am putting away stock when an older woman comes in. My colleague greets her and asks her if she needs any help. She doesn’t even look at him and says:
Customer: “No, I don’t want your help. This girl is going to help me. She will help me. This girl. Her.”
Me: “What can I help you with?”
Customer: “Do you work here?”
I don’t wear a uniform.
Me: “Yes, ma’am, I do. What can I do for you?”
Customer: “I’m looking for hair stuff. It’s in a can. For roots.”
We don’t have many things that match that vague description and I show her to them.
Customer: “No, it’s not those. I paid $12. Where are they?”
Me: “Those are the only root sprays we have.”
Customer: “I know I got it here. Yesterday. Last week. What about those?”
She points to the wild hair colors; green, blue, etc.
Me: “Those aren’t for roots. And they don’t match your hair color.”
She ignores me and walks down to look at them. She grabs a bottle.
Customer: “This is it. What color is it? Wait, it’s in my purse.”
I try to explain that it is hair glitter and not root coverup.
She shoves the bottle at me and empties her large purse onto the floor. A can falls out; it is the right brand but a different color. I grab the right one off the shelf and hand it to her.
Customer: “Is that the right color? Are you sure? What color is it?”
Me: “Yes, ma’am, they are the same.”
Customer: “How do you know?”
Me: “They have the same color name.”
Customer: “Is it the right one? Okay. Go get me the other one I put back.”
I bite my tongue and grab it for her. Hoping that will be the end of it. She walks away without saying a word so I go back to what I was doing. Later, I hear her yelling:
Customer: “GIRL! GIRL! I NEED YOUR HELP! COME HERE!”
I take a deep depth and go to where she is. She is standing in front of the coolers filled with drinks.
Customer: “Go get me orange juice. Big one and a little one.”
Me: “They are at the other end if you would like to pick the ones you like.”
Customer: “No, you get them.”
She has not looked at me the whole time she has been giving me orders. I roll my eyes and get them for her. I start to walk away.
Customer: “Girl. I’m done; you have to ring me up.”
Me: “No, I don’t. There is a gentleman up there that will be happy to help you.”
I continue to walk away. I go to the stockroom to take a moment before getting back to my work.
After she leaves, I talk to the man that rang her up. She complained the whole time how rude I was. She thanked him for being so nice and told him that must be why he’s the manager. He tried to explain that he was just the clerk.
She gets home and calls to complain about my behavior. I answer the phone and tell her I am the manager. That makes her very mad. The last thing I hear before I hang up is her yelling:
Customer: “You’re a girl! You’re not smart enough to be the boss!”