Sounds Like She Doesn’t Need More Oxygen!

, , , , | Right | July 9, 2021

I’m an assistant manager at a dollar store. Two elderly women are shopping for toys and candy and I am ringing them out.

Elderly Lady #1: “My grandkids coming over this afternoon, this is for them.”

As I was ringing them out another elderly woman, with a cane and oxygen tank in tow comes in SCREAMING.

Elderly Lady #2: “Who parked in the handicapped spot!”

I guess the two women, who are on their way out the door, didn’t have their placard on the mirror and this set that woman off. She starts swinging her cane, screaming:

Elderly Lady #2: “I’m going to beat you two up!”

I pick up the phone and dial the dispatch number.

Me: “I’m calling the cops!”

Her husband literally dragged her back out the door and out quick before anyone answered. The two ladies I was helping were super apologetic the whole time. They had the handicapped plate but I guess she forgot to hang the placard before entering… they left so quick too, they just wanted to get their grandkids.

I’ve had to threaten to call the cops a few other times but usually that did the trick and people would leave. My husband made me leave that job for my safety!

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The Good, The Bad, And The Manbun

, , , , , | Right | CREDIT: ppgoodstorytime20 | July 5, 2021

Today was a strange day. I was just studying for a test when, around 10:00 am, I realized that I’d run out of snacks. I headed to a big chain store a few blocks from home.

I am about six feet tall and have long hair for a guy. I’m about sixteen years old and am apparently an old people magnet in stores. Because of my purple jacket, black pants, manbun, and earphones in blasting rap music, I don’t really look like an employee, or so I thought.

I was just browsing the store to find some snacks and maybe something for dinner that day. As I ducked to search between the salted nuts for a decent-looking bag, I felt a hard tap on my shoulder. I turned my music off and turned around, only to see a nice old lady.

Lady #1: “Could you help me?”

I always get asked to help by old ladies. I don’t know why, but they always seem to like me.

Me: “Sure, what can I help with?”

Lady #1: “I want a microwave, but I can’t lift it into my cart.”

Me: “I’ll come with so I can help.”

I already had everything I needed now, so I just tagged along with the nice lady and help her with putting the microwave in her cart and onto the belt. I kept talking to the nice old lady.

Lady #1: “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Me: “I just try to help elderly people when I can.”

Lady #1: “Here, let me pay for your things.”

Me: “Oh, no, thank you. I’ve got my card ready already.”

When I put her microwave in her trunk, she slid a 10€ bill into my hand.

Lady #1: “It’s good to see that some people still behave well.”

After the nice old lady drove off, I realized that I had forgotten to buy potatoes for dinner, so I ran home, dropped everything off, and went back into the store. This time was less wholesome.

I entered the store and went immediately to the potatoes. I dug around to find the perfect bag. As I was lifting the big bag onto my cart, I heard a groan and the tapping of a shoe on the tiled floor. Thinking that I was standing in the way, I tried to move aside, but the woman standing there wasn’t having it; she started to groan even louder.

I turned around and saw a woman around sixty dressed like a woman in her twenties.

Lady #2: *Loudly* “Finally! I have been trying to get your attention for at least five minutes now!”

Me: “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

Lady #2: *Screaming* “I demand that you help me put my stuff in my car after I pay for it!”

That’s right, demanding, not asking.

Me: “I’m not going to do that; you screamed at me.”

Lady #2: “You have no choice; you have to. It’s your job. I saw you outside helping that other lady fifteen minutes ago.”

Me: “First of all, I am not an employee here, and second of all, if I was, I’d decline to help you due to your behavior toward me just now.”

Then, I tried to walk away, but she tried to push me aside. She pushed harder than I expected and I ended up tripping over a tile that was sticking out partially and faceplanted into the aisle next to me. The woman clearly knew what she’d done, and started screaming:

Lady #2: “Ahhh! No! Don’t touch me!”

I was completely stunned by her actions, so I didn’t know what to say. An employee arrived and the lady started crying and telling him a bunch of lies as they walked to the closest bench so “she could sit to rest after being jumped.”

I tried to get back up myself, but due to my bad landing, I’d managed to hurt my back and couldn’t balance myself properly, so I just decided to just lay down and wait until someone arrived. Luckily, an old man saw everything and came up to me to help me up.

Me: “No, no, I can wait. I don’t want you to hurt your back helping me up.”

The old guy wasn’t taking no for an answer; he just picked me up gently and gave me his cane to lean on.

Man: *With a giggle* “My wife makes me use it just in case, but I don’t need it now.”

Me: “Thanks.”

Then, the manager arrived, looking unhappy. Then, he saw me barely able to stand, and the old man. He asked me what happened and I told him my story. The old guy backed me up.

Manager: “The police are already on their way. You can stay in my office until they get here.”

When we started to hear sirens, I got scared. I was an underage boy with a manbun being accused of assaulting an old lady, so in my head my life was over. I was trying not to puke out of.

The police arrived and the lady told them her story.

Lady #2: “He should be fired!

Because, yeah, the police can fire me from a store where I don’t work. They came to me and started asking me questions. The old guy was still with us and was getting bored.

Man: “[Manager], just show them the camera footage instead of wasting this kid’s time.”

Manager: “Okay, here.”

He turned his screen to show us the entire thing on security footage. I was so relieved to know that I had proof now.

Police Officer: “Would you like to press charges?”

Me: “I’ll talk to my parents and contact you later.”

He gave me his details and we walked out. The officer then cuffed the lady and she kept screaming all the way to the car.

I ended up buying the old guy’s groceries as a thank-you for helping me. I suffered no permanent damage. The lady was banned from the store and is now facing a lawsuit.

Was it worth it? Probably not. Was it on purpose? Probably not. Did she deserve it? Definitely!

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Get These Crazy Customers Out Of Your Hair!

, , , , | Right | CREDIT: ANONYMOUS BY REQUEST | June 30, 2021

I have very thick hair. My mum likes to joke that I can tie down ships whenever I have it in a plait.

I am working one night and I serve a lady and her family their food. I feel there’s something off about her. Her smile looks too forced and her voice drips sugar when she speaks to me.

Customer: “Thank you, and I love your hair, by the way. You have to tell me who did your extensions.”

It honestly takes me a second to process that part.

Me: “Thanks, but I don’t have any extensions in my hair. It’s just really thick.”

Customer: “No! No, it’s not. No one’s hair is that thick.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but this is my natural hair.”

I swear I see her eye twitch slightly as she continues smiling. I turn to walk away when I feel a really sharp tug on my head. I yelp in pain and turn around to see that the customer is trying to rip out my “extensions.”


This lasted about ten seconds until her husband pulled her off me and made her sit down. I hurried away, about to cry. I grabbed one of my managers and told them what had happened. I went upstairs, and from what I heard later on, my manager kicked them all out, banned the customer from the restaurant, and notified the police. I got to sit upstairs for half an hour. My head’s still a little sore, but I definitely won’t forget that encounter.

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Seasonal Work, Year-Round Jerk

, , , , , , | Working | June 17, 2021

For my sins, sometimes I have done seasonal work for Royal Mail. The first time was the most eventful. Several of us were assigned to push heavy trolleys called Yorks. These can weigh up to a quarter of a ton. For someone who had applied for seasonal work, one such coworker didn’t seem very hardworking or focused.

One evening, I was pushing a York cheerfully along. (I was cheerful. The York wasn’t, due to being an inanimate object.) Suddenly, I felt a pain in my foot. Recoiling in shock, I turned to see [Coworker] reversing his own York from where he had just hit me, before pushing past me at high speed.

Coworker: “Sorry!”

Apparently annoyed that I did not tell him, “That’s all right,” within about three seconds, he shouted again.

Coworker: “I said I was sorry!”

And then, he disappeared elsewhere in the building.

People pushing things weighing half a ton are trained to keep two metres’ distance from the person in front for reasons which are blindingly obvious. They are also not supposed to move such things fast enough to risk wheelies, as the damage caused by one landing on you is even greater than the damage caused by one being driven into you.

Once I had time to assess what had happened, I concluded that I could walk normally with a bit of care. I delivered my cargo and then went to speak to a manager. The coworker arrived before I had finished reporting the issue and immediately started yelling.

Coworker: “I told you I was sorry! Are you trying to start something?”

Apparently, he didn’t realize that it is possible to see the need to report a careless accident without thinking that the culprit was malicious. When he started advancing toward me with his arms flung wide, I was rapidly bundled away before things escalated. A few minutes later, I was seen by a first aider, who expressed amazement that my foot hadn’t been broken.

In due course, I was informed that the culprit had been escorted off the site by four burly postmen and informed that if he showed his face there again the police would be called. There were concerns that he might try to track me down, but thankfully, nothing happened.

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Never Mess With Someone Who Only Talks In Capital Letters

, , , , , , | Right | CREDIT: mtbikechick | May 30, 2021

It’s the beginning of summer during the health crisis and things are sort of getting back to normal with stores. I have been out mountain biking with some friends, and I stop by a big store to pick up a few things to make dinner for my daughter and me. Then, I happen to see my best friend with her child. He is turning four years old, and she is buying him a bicycle for his birthday. This is right up my alley!

Me: “Great! Let Auntie [My Name] help you out with it.”

We find a good sixteen-inch-wheel starter bike and look at helmets, and I even fit the helmet to him. [Best Friend] and I chat a bit while her child looks at other toys.

Then, I hear an “ahem” and I turn to see a woman standing there.

Me: “I’m sorry if I’m in your way of the shelves.”

Customer: *Rudely* “Now that you are done with her, you can help me with my child and a bike for him.”

Me: “Sorry, ma’am, I don’t work here. I was just helping my friend with her son.”

Customer: “Yes, you do! You are wearing cycling clothes!”

Me: “I just got finished with a ride about an hour ago and came here to pick things up and saw my friend. I’m just helping her. I’m sure one of the employees would be glad to help you. I really don’t work here.”

Best Friend: “She doesn’t work here, lady.”

Customer: “You need to butt out and shut up. I wasn’t talking to you.”

Me: *To my friend* “Oh, my God! Let’s go and get away from this crazy lady.”


Me: *Trying to stay calm* “I DON’T WORK HERE!”

My friends always say that I am really scary when I’m mad. I’m 5’10” and fit; I’m not a small woman. We try to walk away and the lady grabs my arm. I pull out of her grip.

Me: “If you touch me again, I will have you arrested!”

I try to walk away again and she grabs my cycling jersey.


Me: “Let go of my jersey, you f****** wingnut!”

Then, a manager comes around the corner and the lady screams at him.


Manager: “Ma’am, she doesn’t work here, and you need to let her go before I have you escorted out the door.”


I pull my jersey from her grip and she tries to slap me. I grab her wrist in mid-flight.


And I twist her arm behind her. The woman is now yelling about assault and screaming about how badly I am hurting her arm as I pull it up behind her back. I do have a lot of fighting training. [Best Friend] is recording it all on her phone and trying to calm her kid at the same time.

Me: *To the manager* “Call the sheriff’s department right now. I’m having her arrested!”


Me: “I don’t think so!”

I wrench her arm up harder, and escort her and her crying kid up to the front of the store as we wait for someone from the sheriff’s department. Two deputy sheriffs walk in; I know them both from having to use the sheriff’s department a lot in my line of work. I let go and the woman screams.


Deputy #1: “Ma’am, you need to calm down right now!”


[Best Friend], the manager, and I just stand there, wait for the deputies to handle everything, and answer anything that is asked of us.

Deputy #2: “[My Name]… what is going on here?”

Customer: “YOU KNOW THIS B****?! ARREST HER!”

Deputy #1: “You need to be quiet or I’m going to arrest you!”

I am feeling really bad for her child; he is crying as another employee tries to keep him calm. [Customer] keeps screaming. Then, they cuff her as the manager, [Best Friend], and I talk to [Deputy #2] about what happened.

I don’t want to press charges because I don’t want to spend time in court; I spend enough time in court with my line of work.

The woman is banned from that store. The manager apologizes for everything and gives my best friend and me $50 gift cards. I hand mine to [Best Friend], and it pays for the bike and helmet.

I think that will be the end of this and that I’ll never see that woman again. I am wrong.

Two weeks go by. I’m in my office at work; I own a home rental business, family-owned. I spent my whole life in this business and took over when my parents retired. I’ve told everyone in the office about what happened at the store.

This one fine day, this couple comes in to file and sign final paperwork on a home rental. My office manager buzzes me and asks if I can come out to meet the new renters and introduce myself to them. As I walk up front, a look of shock hits my face. It’s the lady from the store!


Me: *Calmly* “Yes, I do work here.”


Her husband turns red with embarrassment. I point to the office manager.

Me: “She is the manager; talk to her.”

Customer: *Yelling at my manager* “YOU SHOULD FIRE THIS WORTHLESS B****!”

Office Manager: “I can’t fire her; only the owner of the company can fire her.”


Office Manager: *Pointing at me* “She is the owner.”

Me: “Yes, you are in my place of business. I’m not going to rent a house to you and I’m asking you to leave right now, never to come back, before I call the sheriff’s department.”

She left in a big hurry with her husband in tow.

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