(The mall I work in has a No Solicitation policy. They also frequently have tween and teen groups doing scavengers hunts. Ten minutes after opening on a Saturday, a group of seven girls, around age fourteen, walks in with two adults. While I know they are on a scavenger hunt, there isn’t anything I can do until they actually out themselves and/or break store policy by taking pictures. As they look around the store, I can hear them whispering to each other about what products will work for items on their list.)

Girl: *holding up a pack of tissue paper* “How much will this cost?”

Me: “$2.95”

Girl: *to group* “Well, this would work for #5, since it’s pink!”

Girl’s Mom: “That’s a lot of money for one item… Maybe you can just get one piece?”

Girl: *to me* “Do you sell single sheets?”

Me: “No, I’m sorry. They only come in the pack of eight sheets.”

Girl: “Do you have any swatches or samples we could have for free?”

Me: “No, I’m sorry, and we don’t participate in scavenger hunts.”

(Mind you, I haven’t actually asked them to leave at this point; I’ve just made it clear that we won’t be participating.)

Girl’s Mom: “EXCUSE ME?! What makes you think this is a scavenger hunt?!”

Me: “I can tell.”

Girl’s Mom: “No, I want to know exactly why you’re refusing service to my daughter!”

Me: “Ma’am, you brought a group of teenage girls into a specialty boutique whose typical demographic is middle-aged women. They are holding a printed-out, numbered list, and discussing what they can get to qualify for those numbers. They asked for free merchandise. All of those are tell-tale signs of a scavenger hunt, which is, by the way, in violation of the mall’s No Solicitation policy. But do correct me if I’m wrong about any of this.”

Girl’s Mom: “I want to speak to your manager!”

Me: “Ma’am, I am the store manager.”

Girl’s Mom: “Well, how do you expect to do any business if you won’t participate in community events?!”

Me: “Your daughter’s birthday party is not a community event. And I expect to make a profit by not giving away merchandise to teenagers who are never going to spend a dime in my high-end store.”

Girl’s Mom: “Come on, girls; let’s go somewhere else!”

(I promptly called my buddies in the security office, and later saw the group being escorted through the mall, I can only assume to the exit.)

(I check out a customer purchasing a large exercise ball that measures 65 centimeters. I say hello and ask how things are.)

Customer #1: “Good. I’m hoping this ball will be big enough.”

Me: “Well, you can use Google to convert the centimeters into feet.”

Customer #1: “I’m an American; I don’t want to do that.”

(I stare in disbelief and finish the purchase. Then, the next customer comes up to my register; they have overheard what the first customer said.)

Customer #2: “Wow, what a great way to prove your ignorance.”

Me: “You heard that, too? I thought I just imagined it.”

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(I am sixteen and have just started my first job. When I was 13, I was found to have thyroid cancer. I had it operated on twice, and because of this, it left a very brash scar. To prevent people from seeing it, I wear a scarf I made myself. Despite it looking out of place, especially in Texas weather, I feel it keeps people at bay from prying about what’s underneath. I am ringing in a woman with a rather large cart filled with items.)

Me: “Hello! Did you find everything?”

Customer: *seems very hesitant* “Yeah, thanks…”

(I finish ringing everything up without another word from her.)

Me: “All right, your total is $221.34. Is there anything else you’ll be needing?”

(She just shakes her head while rummaging through her purse, and I continue on with my work, assuming she’s just had a bad day or such.)

Me: “All righty, then! Will that be cash or credit?”

(She looks up at me scoldingly from her purse, and I am taken aback as I think I’ve been nice this entire time.)

Customer: *pulls out credit card* “Credit.”

Me: “Okay, just slide it in the card reader in front of you.”

Customer: *slides card through and signs reader*

Me: “Seems everything’s gone through smoothly. Would you like a receipt?”

Customer: “Why do you wear that?”

(I print out the receipt in an effort to dodge the question, which, despite the fact I’m asked it every once in a while, I hate having to answer, so much so that my friends usually answer with a lie for me.)

Customer: “Are you stupid? Why. Do. You. Wear that?”

Me: *getting nervous and uncomfortable* “Thank you for shopping with us!”

(She then leans over the counter and quickly grabs my scarf’s base right by my neck, making me give a slight scream in terror as I’m jolted forward. She continues to try and undo it, but due to its length, it just gets more and more tangled and tighter around my neck. I’m putting up a pretty big struggle, but she has me pulled over the counter so I’m obviously losing. It doesn’t take long for my manager to notice, and he rushes to me quickly and tries pulling her off of me with the help of my coworker and a few customers. Once she’s finally off, my manager calls the cops and she’s taken away. I’m asked if I’d like to press charges for assault, but lucky for her, I decline. I’m sitting against the wall, having redone my scarf and trying to catch my breath; this is the first time anything like this had ever happened. My coworker comes and sits by me. I have a tendency to make jokes out of bad situations.)

Coworker: “You okay? That looked kind of scary.”

Me: “Are you kidding?! It scared the daylights out of me! I thought I was going to die in the middle of a grocery store!” *laughs*

Coworker: “Well, I’m glad you’re not hurt; if you died you couldn’t go see a movie with me next Saturday.”

(I did quit that job, despite my love for my coworkers and manager, in the end. And yes, my coworker — now boyfriend — and I did see that movie together. He also bought me a new, shorter, scarf, which is now an annual thing for him to get me on our anniversary. I have never been happier.)

(I am restocking the department after a busy weekend when a very cute little girl taps me on the leg.)

Little Girl: “Excuse me, sir?”

Me: “Oh, hello.”

Little Girl: “I’ve lost my Daddy.”

Me: “Okay, wait here. What’s your Daddy’s name?”

(She tells me her father’s name and I’m about to contact my colleagues to see if they can locate the father. However, before they do, a woman who is close by the whole time and looks to be the little girl’s mother comes up to us.)

Mum: “What are you doing bothering this man, sweetie? You’re not lost; I was right next to you!”

Little Girl: “Yeah, but I wanted Daddy!”

(I laughed while the mother sighed in exasperation.)

(I have just started working at a store that sits right in the middle of the higher- and working-class population, so a mix of different people will come and shop. Within my first week, on a slow day, I’m chatting with two of my coworkers as a customer with a semi-noticeable limp enters through the elevators.)

Coworker #1: “Ugh, she’s back.”

Coworker #2: “Hey, [My Name], when she’s ready, can you check her out?”

Me: “Okay, why?”

Coworker #2: “Well, she has a bit of an attitude, and you’re new. Have to graduate somehow, right?”

Me: *rolls eyes* “Haha. But sure, all right.”

(Eventually, she comes up to my register. She smiles and acknowledges that I’m new, since she doesn’t recognize my face. She’s wearing a veteran cap, which I point out and ask about, as my cousin is a veteran, too. We end up chatting for a bit while I ring her out. She pays with an EBT card for her groceries and goes off on her way to the elevators once again. She was perfectly polite, and I am left confused over the warning I had received about her from my coworkers until they both approach me again.)

Coworker #1: “Wow. How did you do that?”

Me: “Do what?” *starting to think I was lucky for catching the customer while she was in a good mood*

Coworker #1: “Keep a straight face?”

Me: *more confused* “Over what?”

Coworker #1: “Come on, you know.”

(She then starts to imitate an exaggerated limp, mocking the customer. My second coworker laughs. I’m left speechless.)

Coworker #2: “I’m more surprised that you were able to keep it together when she flashed her EBT card. She always does it so casually, too! It’s so shameless.”

(By now, my confusion has manifested into anger.)

Me: “Why does it matter how she pays for her food?”

Coworker #2: “Well, I mean, it’s not just that. It’s just the shamelessness. I try to act casual, too, but then she always gets attitude and all mad about it. Like, dude, at least I’m trying!”

Coworker #1: “She always takes the elevator, too. Like, at least try to look active.”

(Now my anger is BOILING.)

Me: “Are you kidding me? She’s clearly a veteran!”

(Both give me a blank stare.)

Coworker #1: “So?”

Coworker #2: “Yeah, wasn’t that her choice, anyway?”

(I gave up and walked away at this point as I was literally shaking with rage. We never got along after that, but I got along with my other coworkers just fine — most of whom also had issues with how ignorant and conceited the other two usually acted — and I was always happy to see my regular who, by the way, never gave “attitude” towards anyone else BUT the two coworkers, solely because they gave it to her first. Eventually, one quit and the other was let go, the latter due to her behavior towards customers. None of us were shocked.)