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Or did your mother not teach you any manners, jackass?
It's just a damn scar!
I have a redish scar up my forearm where I burnt myself a few years back. I was a cook and I accidentally got too close to the deep fryer. Anyways, it's pretty noticeable since it's about three and a half inches long and crimsom.
Wearing short sleeves, obviously, and stocking the shelves when this thing comes down the aisle, but stops a good bit away from me.
Jackass: *stares at me *
Me: Sir, may I help you?
Jackass: What are you infected with? I don't wanna get too close and catch it. You shouldn't be working if you're infected!
Me: *confused* I'm sorry, sir? I'm perfectly fine...
Jackass: Then what's that!! *pointing to my scar*
Me: Oh, it's a scar. I burnt myself on a deep fryer a few years back.
Jackass: You should really cover that up then if you're working.....
Me: I will, yes sir. Thank you for making me feel self conscious for the rest of the day!
Jackass: Um.....
Please do not sniff, touch, or taste the employees.
My uniform is all black. The store's AC system is malfunctioned. It's the South in September. IT IS HOT AS HELL. Naturally, at the end of the a shift, I smell like customers and teenagers. Gross.
Customer sneaks up BEHIND me and grabs my ponytail..... and smells me....
Creeper: Ya know, fur such a purty women.... you sure don't smell like one!
Me: That's because I wasn't born one, sir. Have a great night!
Just for the record... I was born a woman, I am a woman, and I meant no offense by the comment. I just needed him to leave me alone. I wish you could have seen the look of terror and confusion on his face, though.
I yell back, don't forget it.
I'm pushing heavy uboats full of 12pks across the store to restock them. There are six pks of cans on top of the 12pks on this one. The ones held together with the flimsy plastic bands.
This kid is running all over the store. I've told him to stop several times, but it doesn't stop him. He's just running back and forth likes he's hyped up on sugar. Well he runs out in front of my uboat. Like road runner fast, just zoom. I jerk hard back on the uboat, and narrowly miss hitting the kid. He's still running like nothing happened. I'd catch him, but when I jerked back, the whole thing shook and several of the six pks fell off, spraying soda everywhere....
I'm beginning to mop it up when this lady storms up to me.
SC: YOU ALMOST RAN OVER MY SON!
Me: Your son should not have been running in my store then, ma'am.
SC: Excuse me? You can't talk back to me!! I'M THE CUSTOMER!
*at this point, the kid runs by me again and bumps into a cardboard display of chips. Yup. Knocking shit everywhere and not slowing down a bit*
Me: Ma'am. If your kid doesn't STOP running in my store right now, you will not be a future customer.
SC: How dare you!! You can't do that! I'm calling your store manager. You're going to be in trouble and you will be fired! I can't believe you're allowed to speak to customers that way!
*kid runs by again, going the other way, and runs smack into the side of our Pepsi cooler. I rush over and am trying to make sure the kid is okay. He's unconscious and I'm trying to dial 911 for an ambulance, while his mother is screaming in the background about suing the store for not being more careful and not stopping the kid from running and on and on and on.*
Me: Ma'am, if you could just shut the hell up for five minutes, so I can make sure he's going to get help, that would great.
SC: You are so RUDE! What would your store manager say!
Me: I've had enough lady! Your kid is unconscious! Don't you even care about that instead of being a bitch to me? You can bitch later after I make sure he's okay! SHUT UP ALREADY!
She doesn't say anything else to me. The ambulances arrive and take the kid and mom to the hospital. I found out later that the kid turned out to be okay, just a concussion.
And despite that awful encounter, my day ended with a hilarious note. I overheard two elderly ladies talking about men when I hear this gem. This will be my new motto.
Aw. Honey. Men don't really care what you look like, what your weight is, what you're wearing....they don't care....not as long as you willing to get naked and get under!
It's just a damn scar!
I have a redish scar up my forearm where I burnt myself a few years back. I was a cook and I accidentally got too close to the deep fryer. Anyways, it's pretty noticeable since it's about three and a half inches long and crimsom.
Wearing short sleeves, obviously, and stocking the shelves when this thing comes down the aisle, but stops a good bit away from me.
Jackass: *stares at me *
Me: Sir, may I help you?
Jackass: What are you infected with? I don't wanna get too close and catch it. You shouldn't be working if you're infected!
Me: *confused* I'm sorry, sir? I'm perfectly fine...
Jackass: Then what's that!! *pointing to my scar*
Me: Oh, it's a scar. I burnt myself on a deep fryer a few years back.
Jackass: You should really cover that up then if you're working.....
Me: I will, yes sir. Thank you for making me feel self conscious for the rest of the day!
Jackass: Um.....
Please do not sniff, touch, or taste the employees.
My uniform is all black. The store's AC system is malfunctioned. It's the South in September. IT IS HOT AS HELL. Naturally, at the end of the a shift, I smell like customers and teenagers. Gross.
Customer sneaks up BEHIND me and grabs my ponytail..... and smells me....
Creeper: Ya know, fur such a purty women.... you sure don't smell like one!
Me: That's because I wasn't born one, sir. Have a great night!
Just for the record... I was born a woman, I am a woman, and I meant no offense by the comment. I just needed him to leave me alone. I wish you could have seen the look of terror and confusion on his face, though.
I yell back, don't forget it.
I'm pushing heavy uboats full of 12pks across the store to restock them. There are six pks of cans on top of the 12pks on this one. The ones held together with the flimsy plastic bands.
This kid is running all over the store. I've told him to stop several times, but it doesn't stop him. He's just running back and forth likes he's hyped up on sugar. Well he runs out in front of my uboat. Like road runner fast, just zoom. I jerk hard back on the uboat, and narrowly miss hitting the kid. He's still running like nothing happened. I'd catch him, but when I jerked back, the whole thing shook and several of the six pks fell off, spraying soda everywhere....
I'm beginning to mop it up when this lady storms up to me.
SC: YOU ALMOST RAN OVER MY SON!
Me: Your son should not have been running in my store then, ma'am.
SC: Excuse me? You can't talk back to me!! I'M THE CUSTOMER!
*at this point, the kid runs by me again and bumps into a cardboard display of chips. Yup. Knocking shit everywhere and not slowing down a bit*
Me: Ma'am. If your kid doesn't STOP running in my store right now, you will not be a future customer.
SC: How dare you!! You can't do that! I'm calling your store manager. You're going to be in trouble and you will be fired! I can't believe you're allowed to speak to customers that way!
*kid runs by again, going the other way, and runs smack into the side of our Pepsi cooler. I rush over and am trying to make sure the kid is okay. He's unconscious and I'm trying to dial 911 for an ambulance, while his mother is screaming in the background about suing the store for not being more careful and not stopping the kid from running and on and on and on.*
Me: Ma'am, if you could just shut the hell up for five minutes, so I can make sure he's going to get help, that would great.
SC: You are so RUDE! What would your store manager say!
Me: I've had enough lady! Your kid is unconscious! Don't you even care about that instead of being a bitch to me? You can bitch later after I make sure he's okay! SHUT UP ALREADY!
She doesn't say anything else to me. The ambulances arrive and take the kid and mom to the hospital. I found out later that the kid turned out to be okay, just a concussion.
And despite that awful encounter, my day ended with a hilarious note. I overheard two elderly ladies talking about men when I hear this gem. This will be my new motto.
Aw. Honey. Men don't really care what you look like, what your weight is, what you're wearing....they don't care....not as long as you willing to get naked and get under!
And she shouldn't have to police your hyper kid's behavior...that's YOUR job. 
in tale #3 is banned....and that the management has your back on this as well.
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