Unfiltered Story #124737

, , , | Unfiltered | November 3, 2018

(My cousin is cursed/blessed with a very young-looking face. Despite the fact she is 35, she sometimes still gets asked for ID. I myself am 21 and have also inherited the family baby-face. We’re walking round a well-known Mother & Baby store chain. She is pushing her oldest child (still a toddler) in a pushchair, whilst I have her younger baby in a papoose on my back, to make things easier for her whilst she shops. We get everything she wants and join the line for the tills. Behind us are a pair of older women, who start to make snippy comments about us):

Old lady 1: Look at those two. Can’t keep their legs shut!

Old Lady 2: Ridiculous. Our generation didn’t fight in the war so that ungrateful girls like them could sponge off our war pensions.

Old lady 1: I hope their mothers are ashamed.

Old lady 2: I bet they’re not married. Probably no father in sight!

Old lady 1: Probably a [racial slur] who slept with them for drug money.

Old lady 2: Disgusting.

(Finally, my cousin has had enough of this, and turns around to speak to them)

Cousin: Excuse me, were you talking about me and my cousin?

Lady 2: Your ears work as well as your ovaries, then, love?

Lady 1: *sniggering* as IF they know what ovaries even means!

Cousin: Not that it’s ANY of your business to judge who would and who wouldn’t make a good parent, but I’m 35, married, with a biology-based PhD, and I’m the head of Science at [local large secondary school]. [My name] here is my cousin, and just carrying my youngest daughter for me so I don’t have to use the bulky double pram on what I’d only planned as a very quick shopping trip. I’m not entirely sure what you’re doing in [franchise], since I wouldn’t voluntarily let you anywhere NEAR my kids, were you in my family. You’ve done nothing but make hated assumptions, which, whilst we’re on the subject, reminds me, if – unlike me, obviously – you look your own age, then there’s NO WAY you’re from the the WWII generation. This would make you baby boomers, who’d be relying on my and [my name]’s generation to foot your whopping NHS bills. I suggest you think before you open your mouths next time.

Lady 1: *massively backpedalling* Well, I didn’t mean MY generation, my father…

Lady 2: We didn’t mean YOU, dear, we meant… *looks around hoping to see a legitimate teenage mother in the store* I… uh…

Cousin: Come off it! I don’t want to hear it. But I seriously hope you think before spouting any of your [right-wing tabloid] nonsense to your children or grandchildren without being sure of your facts.

(The cashier, who was staring at my cousin dumbfounded, buzzed for her manager – who swiped his staff discount through for her. He also tells the ladies that he will serve them, this once, but that they are not to set foot in the store again. They don’t quite have the good grace to apologise, but do at least look a bit ashamed of themselves.)

Unfiltered Story #124590

, , , | Unfiltered | October 29, 2018

(I am the customer in this story.)

Employee: This is a new fragrance for the holiday season.
(The employee hands me an open bottle of lotion. Rather than trying some on my hands, I hold the bottle under my nose and gently squeeze it. Some lotion squirts onto my lip.)

Employee: Are you OK?!
Me: I’m fine. It smells nicer than it tastes.

Should Have Kept Zip!

, , , , | Right | October 24, 2018

(I work at a very popular discount store in a shopping center. We get employees from other stores in here all the time to get drinks and snacks before their shifts. A woman wearing another store uniform comes up to my register with a soda and chips when I notice something. I finish scanning her order and motion her towards me, covering the side of my mouth to let her know her zipper is down without embarrassing her.)

Next Customer: *slams her hand on the counter* “No, do not do this. I’m very late and you guys always do this.”

(I look at the customer, slightly confused, but tell the girl again since she didn’t hear me the first time.)

Next Customer: *gets angrier* “Seriously?! I’m late, and you’re sitting here gossiping! You guys always do this!”

Me: *turns to her* “Ma’am, I have never met this girl in my life before, but she’s just about to go to work with her zipper down. How would you feel going to work, interacting with customers and other employees for eight hours, and going home, just to find out your zipper was down the entire time?”

Next Customer: *stutters and turns bright red* “Well… I’m late and I need to go.”

Me: “Okay, just a moment.” *turns back to the girl and finishes her transaction*

Girl: “Thank you so much, [My Name]!” *smiles and walks away*

([Next Customer] was quiet throughout her whole transaction, still beet red.)

Even After Your Shift, They Find You…

, , , , , | Right | September 18, 2018

(I’ve just finished a very long shift at the convenience store I work at and forgot to pick up some bits before we closed. I go to a supermarket where their uniforms are similar to ours — green and black. I’m reading a label on some cat food down an aisle that is in view of the tills. However, my back is to the tills; my store’s logo is printed across the back of my jacket.)

Customer: “EXCUSE ME! I have been waiting at this till for ten minutes!”

Me: “Oh, I think there’s someone down the next aisle…”

Customer: “What?! How dare you?! I’m going to get you fired for this! I’ve been waiting and waiting; you need to come serve me now or your manager will hear about this!”

Me: “I don’t work here, you idiot.”

Customer: *literally screaming at this point* “HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT! WHERE’S YOUR MANAGER NOW?!”

(The employee down the next aisle is now trying to come to my aid, but the customer won’t listen.)

Me: “Probably at home, considering we finished twenty minutes ago! I don’t work here; look!” *turns so she can see my back* “I work at [My Store] and you’re in [This Store]! I have just done a ten-hour shift dealing with idiots like you. I am tired and hungry, so don’t start shouting at me because you’re a dumba** who can’t read the back of a jacket!”

(I stormed off after that to continue with my shopping. When I got to the till, the employee told me that the lady had demanded to see the manager, told him what happened, and demanded I was fired. The manager felt so sorry for me he told the employee to let me pick out a chocolate bar for free.)

Allergic To Your Attitude

, , , , | Healthy | October 23, 2017

(I have an itchy, raised lump on my leg, surrounded by a rash that is not getting better, so I go to see my doctor. I am 22.)

Doctor: “It looks to me like an allergy. I’ll give you these [Allergy Tablets] and if it is not better in a few days, come back.”

Me: “Don’t those tablets contain cetirizine dihydrochloride? I’m allergic to it.”

Doctor: “Don’t be ridiculous! Cetirizine dihydrochloride STOPS allergies. It’s impossible to be allergic to it!”

Me: “I was diagnosed by the allergy clinic at [Hospital]. It should be on my file? I know it sounds counter intuitive but I was tested for every ingredient in the tablets and that is the only one that came back positive. I can’t take it.”

Doctor: “You CANNOT be allergic to it. That isn’t physically possible.”

Me: “I took a hay  fever tablet with cetirizine dihydrochloride in it and had a rash on my face and my neck. I was referred to the allergy clinic and they said that’s what caused it.”

Doctor: “I know you’re just trying to be special, but fine, I’ll look.”

(The doctor looks at my file and finds the letter saying I’m allergic to cetirizine dihydrochloride. He then prints and signs the prescription and gives it to me.)

Doctor: *leans right in to my face* “Just take the tablets and stop making such a fuss! You little girls, you stupid BABIES, and your little made up illnesses. Teenagers! Can’t do anything, the idiots. Get a grip and take the tablets. It is impossible to be allergic to the medication that stops allergies. Grow up and stop wasting my time!”

(I took the prescription as proof and reported what happened to the receptionist, who was very angry at the doctor. The doctor was reported to the GMC (General Medical Council). Another doctor treated my itchy leg without giving me cetirizine dihydrochloride. I was eventually diagnosed with a bee-sting allergy.)