(There’s a long line of customers with two staff members serving. The phone rings and my coworker answers.)

Coworker: “Hi, this [Coworker]. How can I help you?”

Customer: “Do you have [item] in stock? I need to buy one.”

Coworker: *runs to check, comes back to the phone* “Yes, we have it in stock. Would you like me to hold one for you?”

Customer: “Yes. I’ll be in to pick it up. My name is [Customer]. Good bye.”

(My coworker goes back to serving the line. She serves two customers and then gets to the third one.)

Customer: “Hi, I’m [Customer] and am here to pick up [item].”

Coworker: “You called me while in the line?”

Customer: “Yes. I am in a hurry and didn’t want to wait while you went to get the item.”

Coworker: “Really? Did you realise that I had to spend extra time with the last two customers apologising to them because they were irate that I took a phone call while they were waiting? You would have been gone by now if you had simply waited your turn.”

(I work in a high-end retail store. It is very well known and we carry a lot of high end clothing brands. There are a few different types of sizing. It is incredibly busy and I have a ton of things in my hands. I have an injury so I shouldn’t be carrying this much.)

Customer: “Hi. Can you help me?”

Me: “One moment, please. My hands are completely full. I will be back in just one moment, though.”

(I drop the merchandise in a dressing room and come back out and she blocks my way, speaking just two inches from my face.)

Customer: “I need to try this on now! You have weird sizes and this is the only one my size!”

(I look at the size and her and clearly she will not fit in the item.)

Me: “Oh, this company runs very small. Can I grab another size for you? The four might be a little tight.”

Customer: “No, I am a four.”

Me: “If you usually wear a four dress size, you might still want to go up a couple of sizes. This brand runs very small.”

Customer: “No. A four is extra large and I don’t think they make any bigger!”

Me: “Oh, no. [Brand] is sized using dress sizes such as two, four, six, eight, ten. A four is the dress size.”

Customer: “No, it is not.”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, it is.”

Customer: “No, you are wrong. It is one, two, three, four.  Four is extra large.”

Me: “I am sorry, ma’am, I know that some companies do use that sizing and others use the dress size and many jeans are actually in inches. The shirt you have is [Brand] and they use dress sizes.”

Customer: “No, they don’t. You have no idea what you are talking about! You are wrong! You are too young to know anything! You are wrong. A four is XL!”

(I am 28 but I have been selling this brand since I was 14.)

Me: “Okay. Go ahead and try the four.”

(I walked away. The customer tried it on and then told us it is sized wrong.)

(I work in retail, and our store’s policy on employee discounts is quite similar to most other retailers’ policies: employees are entitled to a discount on any non-sale item, and such transactions are only allowed once a week. Any large purchases, such as that exceeding $250, must be approved by a district manager. One day, my coworker walks up to my register, with a rather hefty cartload of merchandise.)

Coworker: “Hey, [My Name]. Could you page [Manager] for me? I’ve got some shopping to do today.”

Me: “Gee, I don’t know if I can. Didn’t you come in yesterday and buy a whole bunch of stuff? We’re only allowed to do this once a week.”

Coworker: “No, it’s all right. I already talked to [Manager] about this and he said it’s okay.”

Me: “Well, if he says so.”

(I page for our manager, and he comes over to manually override the register prompt, which has blocked further sales for my coworker’s ID. After I had scanned every single item.)

Me: “All right, your total comes to… $463.02?! Hold on a sec, [Manager]. Are you sure this is okay? This is her second purchase this week, and this amount normally requires a DM approval! Not only that, but some of these items are on the flyer. I thought we weren’t allowed to buy those until after the sale ends?”

Manager: “[My Name], you’ve done a great job memorizing our policies, and as your boss, I am pleased by that and I appreciate it.”

Me: “Then why are we breaking the rules anyway?”

Manager: “Did you see the f***in’ truck that came in this morning? It did a number on our stockroom, and frankly, some rules will have to be broken to free up some space for the next truck. [Coworker] is doing us a godd*** favor by emptying us out like this!”

(Later in the day, I did take a look inside the back stockroom, and my manager was right: there indeed was a ridiculous amount of merchandise. To this day, our store is still very lenient with employee discounts!)

(I’m mute, but learned sign language as a way to communicate. Most people assume I’m deaf, and I usually don’t need to correct them. However, some people use this assumption to make comments. I’m at the mall.)

Customer: “Miss, do you know where [Store] is?”

Me: *signs that I only speak sign language*

Customer: “Stupid deaf people. Shouldn’t be allowed the same place as us normal people! You ungrateful s*** had better stay the f*** away from me!”

(I tear up a bit, but then the security officer, who understands sign language, comes over.)

Security Officer: “Ma’am, please stop harassing her.”

Customer: “What?! I did no such thing! I only asked her for directions! And, she’s deaf! How could she know?!”

Security Officer: “She’s not deaf, ma’am. She heard every word. I’d like you to apologize to her.”

Customer: “H***, no! She’s a little b**** who shouldn’t be out with the normal part of society!”

Security Officer: “I’m going to ask you to leave now.”

Customer: “Why?!”

Security Officer: “You’re being disruptive and rude. You need to leave.”

Customer: “She should leave! She’s wasting time and space!”

Security Officer: “She isn’t screaming profanities, harassing others, or even being the least bit loud. I’m going to ask you one more time to leave the property.”

(The customer refuses, and has to be dragged out by two other officers!)

(I am of Middle Eastern heritage, and I speak fluent Arabic, but because of my Western name and lighter complexion, I often get mistaken for a Caucasian man. I am working on the store’s stock team, running trolleys to the store’s grocery department. A customer in a hijab stops to ask me a question.)

Customer: “Excuse me. I am looking for some [spice I’ve never heard of].”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am. I’ve never heard of that before. I can tell you what aisle it might be on, but not if we have it. Why don’t you ask my associate over there? He’s far more familiar with this department than I am.”

(I point to my coworker, who is about 15 feet away.)

Customer: “Okay. I will, then.”

(The customer proceeds to mutter various insults and curse words in Arabic as she looks around the aisle. About a minute of this in, I decide to respond.)

Me: *in Arabic* “You know, it’s really shameful and cowardly when a grown woman, especially one in a hijab, is insulting a worker half her age in a language she thinks he doesn’t understand. Some representative of our culture you are!”

Customer: *in Arabic, sputtering* “You speak Arabic?”

Me: *in English* “No, I just said that specific statement to throw you off.”

(The customer turned bright red with embarrassment, left her cart behind, and exited the store.)