(I am the only female employee (but also the most knowledgeable) in the tool department. Over the past two weeks a middle aged couple has come in several times for help with a home improvement project. After our first interaction they were so impressed with me they would seek me out, ignoring other associates altogether. This was the third time I have seen them this week and they have waited patiently for 10 minutes while I finish up with another customer.)

Me: “Hi! How are you two today? How’s the bathroom reno going?”

Female Customer: “Oh, just great, thanks to you! We would be so behind if we hadn’t had your help!”

Male Customer: “That’s right; you’re such a sweet girl. We wanted to ask you one last thing.”

Me: “Okay. Do you need a recommendation for a plumber like we talked about?”

(They look at each other and smile.)

Female Customer: “Actually, it’s been so nice getting to know you we were wondering if you would be interested in joining us in the bedroom.”

Me: *sure I misunderstood the request* “Um, you mean you’d like to make some improvements to your bedroom next?”

Male Customer: *laughs* “No, dear. We’d like to have a threesome with you. Or a foursome if your partner would like to join us, as well.”

(I stand there in complete stunned silence for a moment.)

Female Customer: *to her husband* “I told you this was a bad idea. We’ve scared her half to death.” *to me* “I’m so sorry, dear. I hope this doesn’t change the way you see us. It’s just so difficult to find people you get along with and trust!”

(At that point I just walked away, unable to think of any kind of response to such an inappropriate request. They left right away and I never saw them again, thank the stars!)

(My coworker and I work in the bakery section of a well known retail chain. During certain times of the year fruit flies are a problem in our department. It is store policy for the bakery to remove the self-serve donuts from the case if the fruit flies are too numerous. This exchange happens to my co-worker while I’m on break.)

Customer: *indignant* “There’s a whole bunch of fruit flies in here.”

Coworker: *checks the case* “You’re right. Sorry about that, sir.” *leaves to get cart to load trays on. comes back. starts loading trays*

Customer: “What are you doing?”

Coworker: “Getting rid of the donuts. We’re supposed to pull the donuts when there’s too many fruit flies.”

Customer: “Can’t you spray some poison in there or something? I really want one!”

(My husband and I both have a long line of twin births in our families. We have 12-year-old identical twin boys, a 7-year-old daughter and two-year-old identical twin girls. I’m in a children’s store looking for clothes for my daughters when an elderly lady asks one of my sons to get something off of a high shelf for her. As she turns she sees his identical brother then me with another set of identical twins in the trolley.)

Customer: *addressing my son* “Is this some sort of a joke?”

Son #1: “Er. Mum?”

Customer: *addressing me* “How dare you do this. What sort of parent parades their children like freaks? You should be ashamed of yourself!”

Me: “What?”

(Hearing a raised voice a member of staff approaches.)

Employee: “Is everything okay, ladies? Can I help anyone?”

Customer: “Yes, you can call the police and social services. I will not have these children treated like they’re freaks.”

Employee: *to me* “Is something wrong?”

Me: “No. She asked my son to get something for her, turned around, and started yelling that my kids are freaks!”

Employee: *to customer* “What seems to be the trouble, then?”

Customer: “Just look at these children. They all look the same. She shouldn’t be out with them. This isn’t a circus. No-one wants to see these freaks!”

(The employee then looks at my children. It can sometimes be overwhelming seeing five children that all resemble each other but at different ages. She laughs and turns to the other customer.)

Employee: “They’re just twins. That’s not unusual. Maybe I can help you and this lady can get on with her shopping.”

Customer: “But they’re all the same. The girls and the boys. All the SAME!”

(The employee leads her away and we can hear her complaining to other people about the “freaky kids.” We wait until the customer has left the shop before going to pay.)

Employee: “I am so sorry about that. She kept insisting I call someone and have you arrested for having ‘too many children that are the same.’”

(A customer is looking through our branch brochure as she seems to be redesigning her entire bathroom.)

Customer: *points at item in brochure* “That towel holder. What’s that?”

Me: “…”

Me: “It’s a towel holder. It grants wishes in addition to opening a portal to Narnia.”

(This happens with several different items…)

(I work at a general store in town. A lot of God-fearing people tend to come in there, especially on Sundays, since we are across the street from a church. We always have to watch our language when we work. We are stocking the shelves, when someone knocks into it, and a large, heavy can of meat falls on the head of one of my fellow employees.)

Employee: *drops the ‘F’ Bomb and falls right to the floor*

(Everyone in the store hears it. I go running to where he is at, and sees that the can has hit him so hard, he is bleeding, and out cold.)

Me: “[Manager], call an ambulance!”

Female Customer: *marches up to me* “EXCUSE me?! Did I hear this young man say a foul word just outside the steps of The House of the Lord?”

Me: *panicking* “Ma’am, please, he needs help—”

Customer: “He NEEDS to ask forgiveness from our Lord and Savior for using the Devil’s language!”

Me: “I will make sure he does when he wakes up, but please—”

(At this point, the Customer goes off about how sinful it was for him to speak to church folk and ‘befouled the ears of the innocent’ with his unholy talk.)

Manager: “Ma’am, please step back. This man is injured.”

Customer: “He is injured because he speaks in wicked tongues!”

Me: *at this point, I am scared and angry* “No, he is injured because a f***ing can fell on this poor bastard’s head! Now PLEASE step the f*** away from him so the medic team here can help him!”

(The woman was mortified, but the manager was understanding that I was upset. She did leave, and filed a complaint with our office. I didn’t get into too much trouble, thankfully. though that woman refuses to enter that ‘den of sin’ store ever again. Also, the employee is all right. He just needed some stitches.)