(My friend and I are out shopping for makeup together. We decide to go into this store to check if they still have the same foundation she likes to use. We are quite happy browsing alone, but a shop assistant approaches us.)

Assistant: “Hi, girls, found everything you’re looking for?”

Friend: “Actually, I was just wondering if you still had this foundation?”

Assistant: “Oh, you don’t want that. It’s moisturising.”

Friend: “Yes, I know. I use it a lot and wanted to check if you still had it. I have very dry skin.”

Assistant: “No! You’re a teenager and you have blemishes. Moisturiser will just make your skin even greasier! Come over, I’ll show you our special range for oily skin.”

Friend: “No, it’s fine…”

(The assistant literally grabs hold of my friend’s hand and leads her over to their most expensive range of foundation.)

Assistant: “Now these will dry out the oil on your skin. Stop all those oily spots you have!”

Friend: “My skin isn’t oily. It’s actually really dry. That’s why I have these spots! I just want the foundation I always have. That’s all!”

Assistant: “But you’re a teenager! Teenagers always have greasy skin! And look at you, you’re really spotty! That’s typical teenager symptoms. You NEED to have this foundation!”

Friend: “Actually, we’ll just leave. Those are too expensive for me anyway. Thanks for the… um… help.”

Assistant: “Don’t walk away from me! You’re spotty! You need this!”

Me: “Thanks, but no…”

Assistant: “Well, you teenagers should get a d*** job! At least you’d be able to afford decent makeup!”

(We left without buying anything.)

(I am shopping at a popular punk/pop culture outfitter for some new shirts. I have recently moved onto a nearby college dorm and am wearing a lanyard with my keycard and keys on it that clearly have my school logo on them. I am also wearing a t-shirt referencing a popular rock band and an animated series and have a purple streak dyed in my hair. As I’m stepping out of the dressing room with several shirts, I am approached by two fellow customers.)

Customer #1: “Hi, is it okay if I try these clothes on after I buy them?”

Me: “…what?” *thinking she may be asking the employee nearby*

Customer #1: *looking me in the eye* “Yes, I want to try them on AFTER I purchase them.”

Me: *deer in headlights* “Uh… I guess there’s no harm in that.”

Customer #1: “Excellent, thank you!” *goes to pay*

(Immediately behind her, Customer #2 approaches me, having heard the entirety of our conversation.)

Customer #2: “Do you have dressing rooms?”

Me: “Yes…?” *points to the room I just exited*

(He leaves, and I turn to my friend.)

Me: “They both thought I worked here!”

Friend: *laughing* “Maybe you should apply here!”

(Considering the stupidity of those two customers, maybe I should NOT.)

(I am a customer in a store known for employees wearing uniforms of tan khakis and red polo shirts. I am shopping for just a birthday card when another customer comes up to me.)

Customer: “You! CLEARLY you are a manager here. I’m trying to find some printer paper. Can you help me?”

Me: *looks down at my blue jeans and Pink Floyd t-shirt* “Uh, actually I don’t work here, so I can’t help you.”

Customer: *gives me a blank stare*

Me: “I’m just looking for a card for my mother?” *shows him the cards I’m holding in my hand*

Customer: “Oh! That’s why you don’t have a shopping cart, because you don’t need one for something small like that!”

Me: “…yeah. Good luck finding what you need.”

(Don’t know why no shopping cart + rock band shirt = manager in his mind).

(I’m the customer in this story. I am with my girlfriend and her sister checking out one of the many Halloween stores that just opened up. I have purple and blue hair, a snapback on, and facial piercings, and my arm is around my girlfriend’s shoulders. An older woman approaches me.)

Woman: *says something I don’t catch*

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Woman: “Women’s restroom?”

Me: “Uh, I don’t know. I don’t work here.”

Woman: *walks off*

(I didn’t realize until she left that she must have thought that the fact that I was wearing a lanyard meant I was working. It was a Batman lanyard with my girlfriend’s car keys on it.)

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(I’m the customer here, looking at body jewelry in a popular alternative retail store. To be fair I have several facial piercings and my hair is pink. I’m right out of school so I still have my ID badge hanging out of my pocket.)

Lady: “Excuse me!”

Me: “Whoops, sorry, hon.”

(I move out of the way. She follows me and gets in my face.)

Lady: “I said EXCUSE ME! I need something out of that case.”

Me: “No, I don’t work—”

Lady: “I DIDN’T ASK FOR ANY OF YOUR LIP. NOW GET THE F****** CASE OPEN AND STOP BEING RUDE!”

Me: “I don’t work here! Find someone who does, or better yet, don’t, you nutcase.”

(She grabs my ID out of my pocket and heads deeper into the store screaming for a manager. Of course I follow, now pretty upset myself.)

Lady: “I want you to fire this god d*** b**** of an employee right now! I did not come in here to be disrespected by some brat who doesn’t know how to respect her elders!”

Manager: “Ma’am, she does not work here.”

(The lady waves my ID at him with a triumphant look.)

Manager: “Okay, go ahead and give me her ID. Hmm, well, doesn’t look like I can fire her from being a college student, but I can try if it will make you feel better.”

(The lady takes a closer look, turns bright red, and runs out of the store, almost knocking over a display in her rush.)

Me: “Well, that was something.”

Manager: “If it’s not women like her it’s twelve year olds trying to sneak into the back. You’re fired. How about I take your discount card and give you those last three punches?”

(He gave me my ID back and let me pick out a free piece of jewelry with my purchase.)