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Tell Them How You Really Feel

, , , , , | Right | December 14, 2021

I’m stocking when I overhear a commotion in one of the main walkways. I walk out to find one of the workers from the auto department covered in motor oil and being yelled at about his current state by a customer dressed in a suit, who is not letting him get a word in at all.

Customer: “You should be ashamed of yourself! Keeping yourself in such a state! I want to talk to your manager right now! You teenagers don’t know how to take care of yourselves at all!”

I don’t know why she called him a teenager when they are the same height and he has a beard. I step in to try and give my coworker a chance to slip away and clean himself off.

Me: “Ma’am, can I help you with anything?

Customer: “You aren’t the manager! Go get me a manager, little girl!”

She manages to stop both of us from leaving, continuing to interrupt us and yell at us. Behind her, I see the hunting desk manager come into view, immediately giving me some joy. He is well known for speaking his mind to customers due to being on the spectrum, and over the winter, he got a concussion from slipping on the driveway, and ever since he’s been sensitive to both light and loud noise.

Manager: “What’s going on here? I’m getting a headache overhearing it.”

Customer: “These workers are a disgrace! They can’t kee—”

Manager: “So, the guy covered in motor oil coming from the auto department on his way to the bathrooms is a disgrace? Holy s***, lady, the fact that you stopped him and have had him here for this long means he’s now going home to take a f****** shower. [Coworker], go home. I’ll tell your supervisor what happened.”

Customer: “I want to talk to your manager!”

Manager: “Sure thing.”

He then walks behind a rack of goods and then right back out with an evil smirk.

Manager: “Hi, I’m the hunting section supervisor. How can I help you?”

Customer: “You disrespectful b*****d! How dare yo—”

Manager: “Lady, I don’t give a d***. Please leave these two alone and go about your shopping.”

I managed to usher my oil-covered coworker away. I later got the rest of the details from the store’s manager. After I left, the lady started screaming into the hunting desk manager’s face until she left, defeated.

As for the auto department coworker, we went to the garden centre and used a hose to get as much oil off of him as possible before he walked home.

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