Due to a condom malfunction, I find myself in need of the morning-after pill. I’m (reasonably) agitated about this and decide to go to a superstore with self-checkout in hopes of avoiding interacting with any employees. I just want to buy my pill and go home and not see or talk to anyone about this.

I get to the store and, score for me, the pill isn’t behind the counter, so I don’t have to ask for it. The bad news: it’s in anti-theft packaging, so my plan of slinking through self-checkout without talking to another human is shot. Oh, well. I’m an adult; I can handle going through the checkout. I decide to pick up a pregnancy test while I’m there, just in case, since they’re in the same aisle.

I make my way up to the checkout, and I choose an aisle with a female cashier. I put my items on the belt, trying to feel nonchalant and casual. That is until the cashier holds up the pregnancy test to scan it.

Cashier: “Are you?”

Me: “Sorry, what?”

The cashier wiggles the pregnancy test.

Cashier: “Are you?”

Me: “Uh… I hope not!”

Cashier: “Oh! Well, if you hope not, then I’ll hope that for you, as well.”

Me: “…Thanks?”

She continues scanning the rest of my items.

Cashier: “I had a lady come through the other day buying a twenty-pack of these! It was like $30. But I guess it makes sense to buy in bulk.”

Me: “Yeah, I guess so.”

Meanwhile, I just wanted the floor to swallow me up. She wasn’t rude or judgmental, which is a plus, but I’d really have preferred no comment on what I was buying. Also, I couldn’t help but be confused by the question afterward. If I knew the answer, why would I be buying a test? The test was set on top of the pill, which explains why she wouldn’t have seen that first to know that this was obviously not a positive thing. Here’s hoping I don’t have to repeat the scenario any time soon!

I’ve worked in a large retail store for nearly a year now, and I’ve been promoted to cashier duties as I have turned seventeen. I am known for giving out my own bought stickers to the kids that come in.

A customer comes up with a kid. I look at the woman’s son bouncing around.

Me: “Hey, kid, you want a sticker?”

His eyes light up.

Boy: “Sticker!”

I hand him a food-themed sticker. The customer grabs her son by the arm.

Customer: “My son has allergies you know. He can’t have peanuts! And look what you gave him!”

I look at the sticker and see it’s a peanut one.

Me: “There’re no actual nuts in it—”

Customer: *Huffs* “If my son dies, I’m suing you for every cent you’ve got!”

She glared at me like I’d spat on her and pranced her way out of the store head held high as her son put the sticker on his face.

At my job, I have two managers: [Smart Manager] and [Jerk Manager]. [Smart Manager] is above [Jerk Manager] and can overrule his decisions at any time, thank all the gods of retail.

I got really sick at work — sick to the point of spending more time kneeling in front of the porcelain throne than actually working.

[Jerk Manager] happened to be the manager on duty. 

Jerk Manager: “No. You can’t leave. We need you to do your job.”

I struggled on for another half-hour. I’ll admit, I’d considered vomiting on [Jerk Manager]’s shoes to help change his mind, but at the time, I was still (perhaps foolishly) holding onto a thread of being a nice person.

[Smart Manager], by pure chance, happened to walk in, even though he was not on duty. He saw the condition I was in.

Smart Manager: “[My Name], go home, and don’t come back until you’ve stopped puking.”

Jerk Manager: “No, we need him to stay and work.”

Smart Manager: “You’re an idiot. He’s completely nonproductive in this state. He needs to get healthy.” *To me* “Now get the h*** out of here before I call you an ambulance. And if dummy here tries to write you up, I’ll write him up instead.”

Jerk Manager: “But—”

Smart Manager: “But nothing! HE… IS… TOO… SICK… TO… WORK.”

I managed to stop vomiting by the next morning.

[Smart Manager] called me that same afternoon to inform me that he had told his boss about [Jerk Manager]’s behavior. Apparently, the big boss man laid into [Jerk Manager] about not letting sick workers go home until they recover. The brunt of the big boss’s argument was that he didn’t want me getting all my coworkers sick because then we’d be REALLY up a creek.

So, no compassion for me, just concerns over being a vector for illness. Sigh. I love working in retail.

To make a long sob story short, I’ve lived most of my life in abusive environments. As a child, I grew up expecting to get hit if anyone moved in my direction, and then I ended up trapped in a relationship that was just more of the same.

Luckily, I managed to get out of my situation. I’m in therapy, I have my own apartment, and I have a job that I like very much. My boss and my coworkers are aware of my background and my PTSD diagnosis and they try to help me out by making sure I don’t have to deal directly with the worst customers.

One day, I’m on the floor folding clothes when a customer walks up to me. I don’t notice him at first, so when I turn around and a large man is standing right behind me, I instinctively jump a little.

Customer: “Haha, made you flinch! There’s no need to be scared of me, kiddo. I’m the nicest guy you’ll ever meet.”

Me: “Sorry, I just didn’t see you there. How can I help you?”

He needs help finding a shirt in the color he wants, and I show him the shirt rack. The entire time I’m helping him, he keeps standing right behind me, making wide gestures close to my face, trying to catch me unaware again. He manages to make me flinch again at least twice and I’m starting to feel the beginning of a panic attack coming on.

He doesn’t seem like the type who’ll get violent for real, but he keeps laughing about how he’s such a nice guy and how funny it is that I’m afraid of him. It doesn’t help that I’m clearly uncomfortable; it just seems to make him enjoy himself more.

My other coworker on the floor this day is my “work-mom”, an older woman who’s taken me under her wing and who I’ve become very close with. When I walk the customer up to the till, I try to get eye contact with her and telepathically yell, “Help me!” Thankfully, she immediately understands the issue and reaches the till ahead of me.

Coworker: “Good day, sir, so glad to see that my associate was able to help you find what you were looking for. I’ll ring you up over here. [My Name], can you go put these away?”

Customer: “Yeah, just run away from me. I’m so scary! Haha!”

He’s still grinning like this is the funniest thing that ever happened to him.

It’s not a big store, so I can still see and hear them, but at least I’m not in his immediate vicinity anymore, so I go to put away some clothes and take a moment to breathe and calm down. When I get back to the till, my coworker is just finishing up the transaction, and the customer turns to me.

Customer: “Hey, just some friendly advice. You really should find another job if you can’t even handle a normal social interaction. Either that or learn to take a joke. Have a good day now!”

He leaves, still with a wide satisfied smile on his face, and I turn to my coworker.

Me: “I know my frame of reference is pretty messed up, but what was normal about that interaction?”

Coworker: “Honey, there was absolutely nothing normal about that interaction.”

 An old guy came into our store after we reopened from the health crisis.

Customer: “Wow! You guys are really on top of things since you reopened! Your boss trained you well.”

Me: “Yeah, she’s great!”

He actually looked shocked.

Customer: “Your boss is a woman?! You let a woman tell you what to do?!”

Me: “Yeah. Our general manager has been a woman for a few years now, and she’s been with the company for like fifteen years. She knows her stuff.”

And he literally shook his head and walked away, muttering:

Customer: “Unbelievable!”

What year was this guy living in?