(My friend works at a bulk foods store.)

Supervisor: “Hey, [Friend], I need to have a quick talk with you.”

Friend: “Sure. What’s up?”

Supervisor: “I’m afraid we’re going to have to let you go.”

Friend: “What? I don’t understand. Why? I’m still only being trained, and I’ve been complimented on my quick performance.”

Supervisor: “It’s not about you. Despite being understaffed and needing to hire more employees, corporate just gave us a call and ordered us to fire half our staff. It’s not just you, but a lot of long-time employees are leaving, too.”

Friend: “Half the employees? That doesn’t sound right; how does a store this big operate with less than a dozen people?”

Supervisor: “I don’t know. It probably won’t. I’m so sorry for this; it wasn’t our intention to waste your time.”

(My friend took it well, despite the disappointment. From what I heard, they worked off of a skeleton crew, even during the holidays. The store is still open, shockingly. As far as I’m aware the chain, wasn’t going through financial troubles, and there was no news of mass layoffs at other stores.)

At our store, we have mannequins on very high shelves. Often, customers want clothes from the mannequins. That’s totally fine, but we have to drag out the ladder and climb up to the shelves, and dress the mannequins afterward. It’s a long and convoluted process, so it’s not done lightly.

Also worth noting is that the male mannequins are extremely ripped, for plastic headless dudes.

One very busy Saturday, I see one of the mannequins wearing a button-down shirt and shorts. I look up later and see that the button-down shirt has been undone and opened to show off its muscular plastic chest. As I go to break a few hours later, I see the mannequin has been stripped shirtless. This is weird, but it is summer and we do sell bathing suits and the like.

When I come back from break, the mannequin is completely naked.

To this day, I have no idea if a customer ninja-climbed up three times in a row to prank us, one of the newbies genuinely forgot they had to dress the mannequins again, or if our mannequins are alive and this one was a huge pervert.

(A young male customer in baggy clothes shuffles into the drugstore where I work and walks up to me.)

Customer: “Uh, yeah, uh… do you guys have any condiments?”

(I lead him to the condiment aisle and gesture to the ketchup and mustard.)

Customer: “Uh, no, uh… that’s not what I wanted… you got any, you know, rubber gloves?”

(By this point, I have a fairly good idea of what he’s looking for, but I diligently lead him to the cleaning supply aisle and point out the rubber gloves with a smile.)

Customer: “Uh, nah, I’m looking for… you know…”

Me: “Sir, do you mean CONDOMS?”

Customer: “YEAH!”

(I hope he used them properly; he wasn’t ready to reproduce.)

(I am buying baby supplies.)

Cashier: “Wipes, diapers, powder. What does a man need all this for?”

Me: “My daughter isn’t old enough to be potty trained yet.”

Cashier: “Surely it’s a wife’s job to handle the baby. Where’s your wife? Why aren’t you working?”

Me: “He’s at home with our daughter, and I’m on paternity leave.”

Cashier: “He? Your wife is a HE?!”

Me: “My husband is a he.”

(The cashier practically jumped away from me, sneering, and crossed her heart. She then refused to sell me anything, and I asked for a manager. When he came, she spoke directly to him, completely ignoring my existence. After she was finished, the manager “queer high-fived” me and gave me an employee discount. The cashier looked like she was about to collapse and asked to be excused. When I dropped by a few weeks, I was told she decided to leave due to a “conflict of interest”.)

(I am working the register just after Christmas. Since there is a lull, I step onto the floor to help a woman looking at the jeans that are marked down.)

Me: “Hello, ma’am, do you need any help finding anything?”

Customer: “NO!”

Me: *trying to be nice, about to offer the woman a store coupon for 20% off her purchase* “Well, we have some more of these jeans on the wall and—”

Customer: “Mind your own business! I’m from out of town!”

(The woman continued to rant about nosy store employees and walked off. I never once asked where she was from. Needless to say, she didn’t get the coupon.)