(I work in a home improvement store.)

Customer: “Excuse me. Where are your pools?”

Me: “I don’t think we carry pools in the store.”

Customer: “Yes, you do. I saw them online.”

Me: “Yes, we have several, but they are indeed online.”

Customer: “So, where are they?”

Me: “They are online only.”

Customer: “But where are they in the store? I know you have them because I saw them online.”

Me: “I’m sorry; we only carry a few pool accessories in the store, like pool salt.”

Customer: “Oh, then would the pools be by the salt, then?”

Me: “No, all of our pools are online only.”

Customer: *to a different employee walking by* “Excuse me. Where are your pools?”

(I work in a higher-end clothing shop located within a national retail chain. I work for this other brand, not the retail chain that comprises the majority of the store. While both my shop and the store it’s inside use the same register system, we are generally supposed to handle our own purchases, questions, and returns, and the host store is meant to do the same. There are several registers for the host store set into the jewelry counter a few feet away. I see a customer approach my register with a cart overflowing with apparel from the host store. I’m helping a customer to my brand shop for school uniforms.)

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, this checkout is just for [My Brand], but you can take your purchases to the jewelry counter where they can ring you up.”

Customer: “I’m already here.” *begins loading clothing onto my small counter*

Me: “Sorry, you’re going to have to go to the [Host Store] register at the jewelry counter. I’m with a customer already, either way. There is no line at the jewelry counter.”

Customer: “Just do your d*** job and ring me up. I’m not taking all this over there.”

(She waves her hand dismissively at the mountain of clothing she’s dumped on my counter. I look at the customer I’m helping, not wanting to inconvenience her. She’s been so sweet and polite; she doesn’t deserve to have to wait for this rude woman. She smiles back at me, places her hand on my upper arm, and turns to the rude customer.)

My Customer: “Did she stutter? Take that cheap s*** over to the other counter! If you want to take up the time of a [My Brand] salesperson, you should be purchasing something from [My Brand] and not just a cartful of low-quality trash. Get over there before we have a problem!”

(I was stunned into silence. My customer turned back to me, smiled again, and looked back to the school uniform order form we were filling out together. The rude lady stormed off. My customer wound up ordering $3000 in apparel — on which I made a 5% commission, the way I make the majority of my income. I’m glad I didn’t lose her to that rude woman, even if her methods were extreme.)

(It is late afternoon, and I just got off my lunch shift as a waitress. I am at the bus stop waiting for the next bus home. The bus stop has a handful of people waiting, including an old man. The old man comes up to me and starts talking.)

Man: “Hi. How are you?”

Me: “Good.”

(I am young and have a friendly face, which unfortunately seems to make me a magnet for chatty strangers in the street. I have since learned to keep my answers short and my eye contact away from strangers.)

Man: “So, you are waiting for the bus to go home?”

Me: *nods, but quickly darts my eyes away*

Man: “What’s your name?”

(I start to get nervous and annoyed for many reasons. The first is that I just got off of a waitressing shift, which means I have a lot of cash on me. I also don’t want to answer him, but we are both waiting for the same bus, and I won’t be able to avoid him even if the bus comes soon. I am tempted to just walk away, but the buses in my city typically run every 45 minutes, which means that it would be dark by the time I got to my home bus stop if I waited for the next route. Eventually, my fear of getting mugged for my lunch shift money in the dark outweighs my fear of a creepy old man, so I decide to humor him, but to lie for the rest of the conversation.)

Me: “My name is Catherine.”

(My name is not Catherine.)

Man: “So, I guess you are a student here?”

Me: “Yes, I am a nursing student.”

(I am a foreign-languages major and absolutely can’t handle anything medical.)

Man: “Oh, a nurse. Do you have a boyfriend?”

Me: “Yes.”

Man: “Ah, good for him. If I were your age, I would certainly like to see what you could do.”

(He then proceeds to list a few crude acts. I am now completely uncomfortable and dart my eyes around the bus stop for help.)

Me: “Sir, please stop talking to me.”

Man: “Oh, what’s the matter? I am paying you a compliment.”

Me: “No, you are making me uncomfortable. Please go away.”

(Three girls are standing nearby, and one of them immediately goes over to me and takes me by the arm.)

Girl: “Hi, how are you? I haven’t seen you in ages!”

(She then leads me over to her friends and talks to me as if she has known me for years. I have never met this girl in my life, and I gratefully play along and have an animated conversation with them until the bus comes. When we get on the bus, she and her friends make sure to sit around me so that there is no way the man can sit near me. He sits far enough away that we can talk without him hearing.)

Me: “Thank you so much! I was starting to get really freaked out.”

Girl: “Yes, we saw how uncomfortable you looked when he went over to you, and when you told him to leave you alone, we decided to help out.”

Me: “I am so glad you did!”

(They sat next to me for the rest of the bus ride. The man was still on the bus as we got closer to my home bus stop, so I exited the bus two stops prior to my stop so he would not follow me home. Luckily, the girls were still on the bus by the time I was ready to get off, so I was not left alone on the bus with him. I took a very roundabout way to get home, but I got there just before dark. I never saw those girls again, but they were my angels that day. If you ladies are reading this, know that I never forgot what you did!)

(After being kicked out of my parents’ house and having most of my belongings destroyed, I have only three shirts, one pair of pants, and a single sweater to wear. I live in a state that gets absolutely frigid in the winters. I am freezing my tail off walking to and from work every day and catching all sorts of colds. Then, as my shift is ending one day and I am about to brave the freezing cold again, my manager calls me up to the front, where a regular waits. I’ve helped this customer frequently. She is an older woman with back problems that make trying on shoes — my department — difficult, so I often help put them on her and take them off, offer suggestions, etc. They’re smalltime things that really mean very little in the long run.)

Manager: “[My Name], good of you to join us.”

(My manager is a quirky, funny guy. He’s never 100% serious, except for just now. I am certain I am going to lose my temp position and nine-dollar-per-hour income. Instead, the customer takes out a bag with our store’s logo on it and hands it to me.)

Regular: “Go on; open it.”

(Inside are a pair of gloves and an honest-to-god winter jacket, fur-lined and everything. It is an expensive coat that I’ve been eyeing enviously ever since the temperature started dropping.)

Regular: “You help me out so much, and I can’t give you money, but I worked this out with your manager.”

(Then, she hugged me and treated me out to dinner. This is where I started crying. I hadn’t had a proper meal that wasn’t a peanut butter sandwich or ramen in months. This woman is a saint and an angel, and the world would be a better place if people were more like her.)

(I’m taking a bathroom break in the customer bathroom, since the employee bathroom is being cleaned. There’s only one stall in the men’s room, which I’m currently occupying. I hear the bathroom door open, and seconds later an older man pushes the stall door so hard that the lock comes loose and the door swings open. He gets a full view of me with my pants around my ankles, then turns around and closes the door.)

Me: “How about knocking next time?”

Man: “I didn’t know you were in there!”

Me: “That’s what knocking is for.”

(The kicker? He later tried to report me to management for being rude to him. Thankfully, my boss is nice and politely told him to f*** off.)