Swelling With Anger

| Germany | Working | April 11, 2014

(I have a condition which causes my legs to swell immensely to the point of severe pain. I am entering a clothing store with my mother, looking for a pair of trousers for a funeral. Having accompanied my mother for several hours already, my legs hurt.  When my mother goes to try on some trousers, I find a chair near the fitting rooms, sit down, and dig through my purse for my bottle of water and my painkillers. A worker comes up to me, gesturing at the chair.)

Worker: “You need to get up. Now!”

(She is speaking really urgently, and I get up, sighing from pain and stand there, while she grabs the chair and sits down herself. I am confused, but decide it might be best not to show it, so I ask if she might has another chair.)

Me: “Excuse me, but do you have another chair I might use? My legs are really swollen, and I’m in pain and—”

Worker: *cuts me off with a glare* “Lose some weight, and get out of my way. Fatties like you have no right to wear pretty clothes. You are ruining it for all the ones that are looking good!”

(My mother left the fitting room, threw the trousers into the worker’s face, her face red from anger, having heard what the woman said to me. She brought me to the outside waiting area in the mall and returned to the shop. A few minutes later she came back with not one, but two gift cards worth €50, and explained to me that the manager had profusely apologised for the woman’s behaviour. We found out later that the worker was fired for generally being a bad worker, verbally abusing customers, and refusing help.)

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Obsessions With Possessions

| Houston, TX, USA | Right | April 11, 2014

(We don’t have associates permanently supervising the fitting rooms, so they’re left unattended for periods of time while the fitting room associate cleans out the other ones. I enter an open fitting room to find an entire outfit of clothes that we do not sell. My first instinct was that someone had changed into our clothes in the fitting room and stolen them, leaving theirs behind. I then look over to see a phone and a purse left in the fitting room, and take the items to a manager to report the incident and laugh at the supposed thief’s stupidity. Just then, an angry looking woman comes up to the counter.)

Customer: “Those are my things!”

Me: “Oh! You left them in the fitting room.”

Customer: *angrily* “Well, I wasn’t finished…”

Me: “I’m sorry ma’am. You left your things in an open, unsupervised fitting room. You’re lucky I found them. If another customer had walked in there they could have just grabbed them at walked right out.”

Customer: “But I wasn’t finished!”

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They Met On The Bleach, Part 2

| Germany | Romantic | April 11, 2014

(My friends and I are cosplayers, and I am searching for a specific fabric for a bunch of new costumes we want to wear to the next convention. I go to a store and ask for that fabric. They don’t have any of it so I start to ask if there was something else we could use. There were two girls and a boy in this shop looking at the fabrics as well.)

Saleswoman: “So, what do you need that fabric for?”

Me: “A costume.” *in Germany a ladies’ suit is also called a costume*

Saleswoman: *blank stare*

Me: “You know… not like a skirt and a jacket. More like… a real costume.”

Saleswoman: “OH, MY GOD! YOU’RE A COSPLAYER?”

Me: “Um… yes?”

Saleswoman: “Oh, my God! Are you going to be at [Next Convention], too? Who are you going to be?”

Me: “Um yes… A character from Bleach. He is called Shunsui.”

Saleswoman: “THAT’S SO COOL!”

(By this time the two girls and the boy are standing practically next to me, talking about cosplay being ‘childish’ and so on. I really don’t want to cause trouble, so I ignore them and tell the saleswoman about the last convention we were at.)

Me: “It was really hot. I had this cosplay made out of this really long synthetic fur. And one of the guards told me to let security check me for weapons. So we went there and I let them put a sticker on my nose. And one of my friends was checked too, because she was dressed as the Easter bunny—”

(At this moment the boy whirls around and stares at me before he starts yelling too.)

Boy: “Oh, my God! YOU ARE THE MOONKIN!”

Me: *nods*

Boy: “How cool!”

(Complete silence, while everybody, including the two girls stares at him in disbelief.)

Girl #1: “You are SO embarrassing! I don’t want you to be my boyfriend anymore!”

Boy: *deadpan* “You insulted a moonkin… I don’t want to be your boyfriend anymore, either!”

(With that, he just turned and left while the girls just glared at me until they left, too. Wherever you are, young man, you made my day! Thank you!)

Related:
They Met On The Bleach

Steal Herself For An Arrest

| TX, USA | Working | April 10, 2014

(I’ve just been hired on at a store as seasonal worker. There have been a few random thefts that can’t be explained.)

Coworker #1: “They just started up around the time that you and [Other Seasonal Worker] started. It’s funny.”

Me: “The manager told me about it. She said someone had taken the money we’d collected for the breast cancer awareness and shoved the envelope behind the desk in the office. We’ve also been losing around $10 or $20 from the registers from time to time.”

Coworker #1: “I can’t believe someone would do that. It offends me so much. God provides for us. I bet they’re using it to buy their drugs. That’s disgusting. If someone wanted to be lazy and just steal, they should let the prison take care of them.”

Me: “That’s a little harsh, don’t you think? Besides, we don’t know who it is. What if they needed the money for food?”

Coworker #1: “Because no one steals money for food. I wonder who it is. I know it’s not me or [Assistant Manager]. It could be you or [Other Seasonal Worker].”

Me: *offended* “I know you don’t know me, but I’d rather have the job than just chance losing it by taking money like that.”

Coworker #1: “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just saying; it could be any one of us. Except for [Assistant Manager]. She works so hard all the time, trying to pay her way through school. I bet it’s [Other Seasonal Worker]. She just looks the part. Like a druggie, you know? And I heard she’s been flitting from one job to the next. I bet she just doesn’t want to get caught.”

Me: “I’m sure [Manager] will find out who it is and the matter will be settled.”

(Six months later, we have a robbery. I’m not in on that day, but I hear from another coworker how Coworker #1 was there and gave a lengthy description of the thief to the cops and how it happened. Two weeks after that, she’s no longer on the roster.)

Me: “Oh, we lost [Coworker #1]?”

Coworker #2: “You didn’t hear? She got fired for theft.”

Me: *shocked* “What?”

Coworker #2: “She kept urging the manager on duty to go get some food, and while he was gone, she shoved the money down her sock and made some sob story about how she dropped some dimes. While she was picking them up, she said the customer leaned over to grab the money and ran out. Except the till squeaks when you take money out and [Manager] tested that. They went over the tapes and saw her stealing it. So they gave her the option to come in and give the money back and just be fired, or they’d call the cops on her.”

Me: “She always talks about how much money her husband makes! Why would she need to steal?”

Coworker #2: “I don’t know, but she told the manager it’s because she’s bi-polar and was off her meds.”

Me: “Did she steal that breast cancer money?”

Coworker #2: “Yeah! She kept telling everyone it was that other seasonal employee, because she looked like a druggie.”

Me: “Oh, man. You realize she gave the police a false report, right?”

Coworker #2: *smirking* “Yeah, so she’s likely going to go to jail anyway.”

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Not Been Teenage For An Age

| ON, Canada | Right | April 10, 2014

(I’m older than I look, and married. I also have my nose pierced and a couple of tattoos that show if I’m wearing a t-shirt.)

Older Male Customer: “Do you have a boyfriend, young lady?”

Me: “No, I’m—”

Customer: “No wonder with all that nonsense on your arms and that hoop in your face. How do you ever expect to get a boyfriend looking like that?”

Me: “Well, my husband doesn’t seem to mind them.”

Customer: “Married?! You’re only a teenager.”

Me: “Sir, I’m 25…”

Customer: *blushes and turns away, fuming*

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