[Coworker #1] is profoundly lazy. [Coworker #2] figured this out early and hates his guts. I initially thought he was struggling and tried to help him, so he sees me as a sap who can be tricked into cleaning up his messes. When this takes place, [Manager] and [Assistant Manager] are out of town, and [Manager] told me to “keep [Coworker #1] and [Coworker #2] from killing each other.”

I remind [Coworker #1] twice that it’s his turn to organize the stockroom and that he ought to start before the afternoon rush. After the second reminder, he lectures me at great length about how he’s faster than me and doesn’t need that much time. [Coworker #2] interrupts to tell him to stop condescending to me, and he yells that he’s not condescending. Then, they loudly take out all their grudges on each other from the past several months, while I try and fail to get them to stop. I end up literally standing between them while they yell at each other over my shoulders.

I don’t do well with yelling, so I have a panic attack in the bathroom. Meanwhile, [Coworker #2] calls [Assistant Manager] to complain about [Coworker #1]. [Coworker #1] swears at [Assistant Manager] and calls [Manager] to complain. [Manager] is dealing with his father’s funeral and wants nothing to do with this! Somehow, [Manager’s Manager] gets involved in these two floor-level employees having a verbal slap fight, and the only question is which one is getting fired for this.

Eventually, [Coworker #1] screams profanities at [Coworker #2] in full view of customers and then walks out, never to return. I’m the one who has to organize the stockroom, cleaning up his mess one last time.

I’m working at a shoe store. A customer holds up a brown shoe.

Customer: “Is this the color of your brown?”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Customer: “If I get this shoe in brown, will it be this colour of brown?”

Me: “If you buy that shoe, yes, it will be that shade of brown.”

Customer: “You’re sure?”

Two women in their sixties are browsing the shoe department. After some minor language-barrier problems, I bring out several pairs of our lightweight hiking boots.

That’s when the older of the two ladies takes off her shoes and socks and I see that the tips of her toes are black… and not with dirt!

She says something to her companion and the companion asks me:

Woman: “What causes that?”

In my head, I scroll down the list of possible responses: diabetes, wearing shoes that are too tight, long periods of inactivity, frostbite, and EEEWWWWW! But I settle on:

Me: “Ma’am, I’m not a doctor, but I think your friend should get that checked out by a doctor… and soon!”

She relayed that info, they both nodded and took their purchases up to the registers.

Meanwhile, I was thinking, “Why would you POSSIBLY let a condition like that just slide? And why ask a shoe salesman for a medical diagnosis?”

I’m still shaking my head over that one.

I spent over an hour working with a woman, trying to help her find a pair of boots. I pulled boots for her in-store, online, and from vendor catalogues. No matter what I showed her, it wasn’t good enough.

Customer: “You obviously don’t know what you’re talking about when it comes to boots or horses! You wear square-toe boots with low heels instead of rounds with tall heels!”

Me: “Well, the way I see it is that if you need a special kind of boot to stay on your horse, you don’t need to be on it in the first place.”

She didn’t purchase anything.

I was working in a shoe store. There were several customers in the store at the time, a few of them further toward the back of the store. I approached a lady that was shopping alone.

Me: “Do you need a hand, ma’am?”

Customer #1: “No, thanks, just looking.”

Then, I turned to a nearby mother-daughter duo and asked them the same question. The mother ignored me completely, but the daughter managed to snap a curt “no” at me.

As I was turning and walking away, I noticed one of the sample shoes had the laces undone — a big no-no — so I paused to fix it. All of a sudden, the mother just glared at me and yelled:

Mother: “You don’t need to keep watching us! We’re not stealing!”

I was completely taken off-guard since that thought hadn’t even crossed my mind.

Me: “I wasn’t watching you, ma’am.”

Mother: *Yelling* “Yes, you were! You don’t need to hover like that. You’re a terrible salesperson and horrible at your job! You’re the reason customers hate salespeople!” *To her daughter* “Let’s go. These people don’t want business.”

She kept up the diatribe against salespeople all the way out the door. I slowly walked to the front of the store and looked at my manager, completely flummoxed.

The first lady to whom I’d spoken walked past me on her way out the door and made a point of pausing to talk to me.

Customer #1: “I like your customer service. I’ll be back another day!”

Another customer, a regular, paused her shopping to come and stand next to me, shoulder to shoulder for a moment.

Customer #2: “Don’t listen to that b****. You are awesome at your job and a wonderful person. Some people are just s***ty.”

That woman almost ruined my day, but the other customers totally made my day.