It seems that being mistaken for an employee in a shop or a restaurant is a pretty common thing. Even though a lot of such places have work outfits and name tags so there's less confusion, sometimes these things do not help. Especially when a potential Karen is on her way to yell at someone.
As it turns out, a lot of people have experienced the situation where they were mistaken for an employee. This gave the perfect opportunity for Reddit users to share their best stories in a subreddit called I Don't Work Here Lady. You’ll be surprised how some people are able to reach new depths of rudeness by yelling at people, accusing them, or even physically assaulting them. Bored Panda already covered a story about customers getting yelled at by other enraged customers, but it seems that with time, these stories only continue to pile up. Even though most of these incidents occur in grocery stores or cafes and restaurants, these “mix-ups” also happen in establishments such as schools and workplaces. So you never know where someone might cause a scene by taking you for someone who you are not actually are. Of course, not every situation that was shared by people ended up with pressed charges; some of them were simple misunderstandings that later became a funny story to tell your friend, or share with the users of Reddit.
Have you ever experienced a similar situation? Share your stories in the comments down below!
More Info: Reddit
#21
We were out getting groceries last week, as we were checking out I was bagging up all our stuff because the store now requires that you bag your own goods if you bring your own bags. No big deal. He pays, and I stay to help a very elderly lady behind him bag her groceries and put them in her cart (he had helped her unload them) and we offered to help her put them in her car. She shuffles away from the register and I move to follow, as I turn away I hear behind me "Where the HELL do you think you're going?"
I turn to see a very angry looking woman glaring at me. I told her politely that I didn't work at the store and I had just helped the elderly lady to be polite and that I was now leaving with my husband to go home. I had never met an American Karen before so I thought this would be the end of it, I turn to walk away and feel a vice grip on my arm. "Don't be LAZY! Just do your job and help bag my groceries!"
I didn't even have time to respond, she had barely finished speaking when my husband wrenched her hand off me and was yelling in her face. This was the first time in the 10 years we've been together that I saw the old soldier come out, his nose might have been 3 inches from hers and his voice was loud and frightening, "WHO THE F*** DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? HOW DARE PUT YOUR HANDS ON MY WIFE! SHE TOLD YOU SHE DOESN'T WORK HERE, ARE YOU TOO F***ING STUPID TO UNDERSTAND SIMPLE ENGLISH? GO PAY FOR YOUR S***, BAG YOUR OWN DAMN GROCERIES AND DON'T YOU DARE UTTER ANOTHER F***ING SOUND!"
The the silence after that was intense, a store full of people could hear a pin drop. The look on her face wasn't even angry, it was pure terror. She shuffled back to here isle and waited for the cashier. My husband went to the old lady and said, "I am so sorry you had to hear all that, ma'am. I apologize if my language was offensive. I hope you will still allow us to help you load your groceries into your car."
It was surreal, like he had just flipped on a switch and flipped it back off.
Also, we got chased down by the store manager who suggested we could be banned because of the yelling and bad language. Husband just shrugged and said they had better ban the Karen too for assaulting me, and that there are other grocery stores in town, we just go to this one because it's close. Didn't get banned.
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117points
#22
A few years ago, I was a sweet summer child freshly out of college with zero idea what I wanted to do with my life, I was a homeowner after maternal unit moved overseas and gave the house to me, and I decided to work for a house painting company for one summer while I got my metaphorical ducks in a row.
The next summer, I was out of the painting business and working as an EMT, which meant sometimes I would have a full day or two off (24 on/48 off). I noticed my house was in some need of paint touch ups, so I decided to do them myself. I had brushes, paint, nothing to do, and some beer, so I went at it one Tuesday afternoon.
So I’m working on the frame of the front door, dressed in old painter whites and a T-shirt with the sleeves cut off, and I sit down to let the primer dry and have a beer. I’m happily perched on the front step when I notice a can-I-speak-to-your-manager haircut with a face that looks like she just ate 12 lemons staring at me from the sidewalk. My front lawn is decently long and slopes down a hill, but I could see an artery pulsing in her neck from my spot.
She had a dog next to her, so I just wave and say “cute dog!” I guess my words broke the floodgates, and she unleashed upon me a verbal assault of which I understood about 30%.
The gist: “HOW DARE YOU DRINK ON THE JOB ON THIS NICE PROPERTY. YOU DON’T DESERVE TO SIT THERE AND WASTE THE HARD EARNED MONEY OF THE WELL EDUCATED PERSON THAT OWNS THIS PLACE”
While I’m pondering this, she’s still spewing frothing condescension at me, which culminated in “UNEDUCATED, LAZY, MENIAL, FREELOADING, IMMIGRANT DRUNKS LIKE YOU ARE WHAT IS WRONG WITH THIS COUNTRY”
Well, I’m white. Like, really white. Blond hair, green eyes. Born and raised in the good old US of A. Specifically, in this house. Perhaps I look like some sort of insidious immigrant from far away, so I stand up and make my way down to her, but not before cracking open another beer.
She’s positively quivering with anger and indignation, her dog is pulling at the leash to say hi to me, and so I bend down to say hello back, when she says “WELL, WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF?”
I raise myself to my full 6’2” height, which towers over her little 5’ nothing self. She doesn’t back down, and the following conversation ensues.
Me: “Hello ma’am, what seems to be the problem?”
Her: scoffs “YOU. Sitting there wasting the homeowner’s money so you can get paid to be a lazy drunk.”
Me: “Oh, I’m being paid? Seems odd, I didn’t feel the need to pay myself for this, but I suppose that could be fun to try.”
Her, gears turning: “Pay yourself? Don’t make me laugh, some deadbeat like you couldn’t afford this house. You need an education for a real job.”
I’m wondering what her education fixation is all about, but not caring all that much, I just want to entertain her conversation enough to really get her mad. Maybe her head will explode.
Me: “Well, I didn’t buy this house, my mother did, but she left it to me when she moved overseas after I graduated from college.”
Her, smirking: “Oh, did you go to local community college, known for not being that great? Only someone working as a painter would go there.”
Me: “Actually, if you look at my shirt, you’ll see it says ‘Ivy League School Athletics’, which is where I attended school and played a sport. I am in good shape because of that, so I figured I would keep that up by working on improving my own home while having a few beers to cool off in this heat. Did you attend community college? Because if so, I can see how you might not be able to understand that.”
Disclaimer: nothing wrong with that CC, it’s where I got my EMT license. Just wanted to watch her boil, and oh boy did she.
Her eyes widen bigger than I thought possible, and her mouth starts working like elderly folks‘s do when they’ve lost a lot of teeth, lots of lip twisting. This culminates in her reading her ugly head back, and spitting on the front of my shirt. “You probably stole that from someone, you ungrateful piece of s**t.”
Okay, wow, not sure what I’m ungrateful for, and ew germs, so I tell her that’s it’s been fun but I’m going to continue working and turn to walk back up the lawn. She grabs the back of my shirt and attempts to pull me backwards, doesn’t work, so I spin around and smack her hand off me.
She flops like a premier league soccer player, flinging herself all over my lawn, howling like she’s been shot. She’s let go of the dog’s leash, so he comes over to me for pets, happy as a clam.
Her yodeling has brought some neighbors out of their homes, including my cool next door ones. They come over and I give them the story, and ask for their phone to call the cops (mine was inside charging), they laugh and hand it over. I let the cops know that some cootcanoe is gyrating loudly on my lawn, could they please come remove her.
I return to my work, my cool neighbors probably have started making popcorn. A little while later, I hear the cops arrive, Crazy is still singing her f****d up opera, and starts screaming at the cops a story of a belligerently drunk squatter (who’s painting said site of squatting??) who chased her with a baseball bat and broke her arm in multiple places. Her talons point to me, so I come down and tell the cops the whole story.
They crack up, apparently they know the nutcase by name, and so they tell her to call her husband to get the dog “again”, and cuff her for trespassing and disorderly conduct. Dog hung out with me until the husband, apologizing profusely, came and got him. He also informed me that they are in divorce proceedings, so that may have made her “crazier than usual”.
Never saw the lady again, thank god, but have developed a neighborly friendship with her ex and the pup. Alls well that ends well.
The next summer, I was out of the painting business and working as an EMT, which meant sometimes I would have a full day or two off (24 on/48 off). I noticed my house was in some need of paint touch ups, so I decided to do them myself. I had brushes, paint, nothing to do, and some beer, so I went at it one Tuesday afternoon.
So I’m working on the frame of the front door, dressed in old painter whites and a T-shirt with the sleeves cut off, and I sit down to let the primer dry and have a beer. I’m happily perched on the front step when I notice a can-I-speak-to-your-manager haircut with a face that looks like she just ate 12 lemons staring at me from the sidewalk. My front lawn is decently long and slopes down a hill, but I could see an artery pulsing in her neck from my spot.
She had a dog next to her, so I just wave and say “cute dog!” I guess my words broke the floodgates, and she unleashed upon me a verbal assault of which I understood about 30%.
The gist: “HOW DARE YOU DRINK ON THE JOB ON THIS NICE PROPERTY. YOU DON’T DESERVE TO SIT THERE AND WASTE THE HARD EARNED MONEY OF THE WELL EDUCATED PERSON THAT OWNS THIS PLACE”
While I’m pondering this, she’s still spewing frothing condescension at me, which culminated in “UNEDUCATED, LAZY, MENIAL, FREELOADING, IMMIGRANT DRUNKS LIKE YOU ARE WHAT IS WRONG WITH THIS COUNTRY”
Well, I’m white. Like, really white. Blond hair, green eyes. Born and raised in the good old US of A. Specifically, in this house. Perhaps I look like some sort of insidious immigrant from far away, so I stand up and make my way down to her, but not before cracking open another beer.
She’s positively quivering with anger and indignation, her dog is pulling at the leash to say hi to me, and so I bend down to say hello back, when she says “WELL, WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF?”
I raise myself to my full 6’2” height, which towers over her little 5’ nothing self. She doesn’t back down, and the following conversation ensues.
Me: “Hello ma’am, what seems to be the problem?”
Her: scoffs “YOU. Sitting there wasting the homeowner’s money so you can get paid to be a lazy drunk.”
Me: “Oh, I’m being paid? Seems odd, I didn’t feel the need to pay myself for this, but I suppose that could be fun to try.”
Her, gears turning: “Pay yourself? Don’t make me laugh, some deadbeat like you couldn’t afford this house. You need an education for a real job.”
I’m wondering what her education fixation is all about, but not caring all that much, I just want to entertain her conversation enough to really get her mad. Maybe her head will explode.
Me: “Well, I didn’t buy this house, my mother did, but she left it to me when she moved overseas after I graduated from college.”
Her, smirking: “Oh, did you go to local community college, known for not being that great? Only someone working as a painter would go there.”
Me: “Actually, if you look at my shirt, you’ll see it says ‘Ivy League School Athletics’, which is where I attended school and played a sport. I am in good shape because of that, so I figured I would keep that up by working on improving my own home while having a few beers to cool off in this heat. Did you attend community college? Because if so, I can see how you might not be able to understand that.”
Disclaimer: nothing wrong with that CC, it’s where I got my EMT license. Just wanted to watch her boil, and oh boy did she.
Her eyes widen bigger than I thought possible, and her mouth starts working like elderly folks‘s do when they’ve lost a lot of teeth, lots of lip twisting. This culminates in her reading her ugly head back, and spitting on the front of my shirt. “You probably stole that from someone, you ungrateful piece of s**t.”
Okay, wow, not sure what I’m ungrateful for, and ew germs, so I tell her that’s it’s been fun but I’m going to continue working and turn to walk back up the lawn. She grabs the back of my shirt and attempts to pull me backwards, doesn’t work, so I spin around and smack her hand off me.
She flops like a premier league soccer player, flinging herself all over my lawn, howling like she’s been shot. She’s let go of the dog’s leash, so he comes over to me for pets, happy as a clam.
Her yodeling has brought some neighbors out of their homes, including my cool next door ones. They come over and I give them the story, and ask for their phone to call the cops (mine was inside charging), they laugh and hand it over. I let the cops know that some cootcanoe is gyrating loudly on my lawn, could they please come remove her.
I return to my work, my cool neighbors probably have started making popcorn. A little while later, I hear the cops arrive, Crazy is still singing her f****d up opera, and starts screaming at the cops a story of a belligerently drunk squatter (who’s painting said site of squatting??) who chased her with a baseball bat and broke her arm in multiple places. Her talons point to me, so I come down and tell the cops the whole story.
They crack up, apparently they know the nutcase by name, and so they tell her to call her husband to get the dog “again”, and cuff her for trespassing and disorderly conduct. Dog hung out with me until the husband, apologizing profusely, came and got him. He also informed me that they are in divorce proceedings, so that may have made her “crazier than usual”.
Never saw the lady again, thank god, but have developed a neighborly friendship with her ex and the pup. Alls well that ends well.
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117points
#23
I was an adjuster for "Lizard Insurance" and would go to many tow lots after car accidents and decide if a car was a total loss or send it to a body shop, as well as do the initial write up of an estimate on repair costs. the tow lot i was at this day also worked with the state police and housed their overflow storage for anything deemed evidence and on hold from release. these vehicles were kept behind a locked gate inside the already fenced, gated tow yard.
i was there to do a appraisal on two vehicles that had been involved in a minor accident however both were left unable to drive from the scene due to either multiple flats, lights knocked out or windows busted. i've finished the first vehicle and i've started taking photos of the second vehicle. i have headphones in and i'm listening to the album "Cavalcade" by The Flatliners (seriously, check them out.) anyhoot, i see a woman i'd guess around 50 walk up to the police evidence lot and the gate swing open out of the corner of my eye. not paying much attention as the vehicles i was working with were on the same side of the lot but about 50 meters down from the evidence lot. as my back is turned to this woman i will hear on refer to as karen i take the last couple of photos i need, the last being a photograph of the vin of the vehicle which is located where the windshield meets the hood almost on the dash through the windscreen (hope this makes sense.
Karen out of literally nowhere grabs both cables to my headphones from behind and rips them out of my ears.
Karen: EXCUSE ME... why are there two cars in front of mine so i cannot get it out. (this lot would stack cars in 4 or 5 deep side by side and move them around with a small truck to release them.)
Me: please don't touch me and i don't think you should be in there AND i don't w-
Karen: you shouldn't be listening to music on the job anyway or slacking off taking pictures of other peoples belongings, you're probably back here stealing.
i attempt to point at the "Lizard Insurance" logo on my blue jacket but Karen continues on
Karen: are you going to do your job or do i need to call the police because you're refusing to give me my property.
Me: have you went into the office at ABC Towing?
Karen: no i saw you here and you need to move these cars so i can get mine and leave.
(as Karen opens the door and gets into the first car in the ones blocking her)Me: HEY! HEY! NO! you can't go in there that is police evidence
(i use my cell phone to call ABC Towing and inform them)Karen: if you won't move these cars then i will, where are the f*****g keys?
Me: In the office with the employees.
at this time the Manager comes running out with one of those weird smart phone/nextel style phones in his hand.
M (ABC Manager): hey lady get the hell out of there those cars are property of the state police!(M frantically uses his nextel to talk to someone.)
M sees the chain used to keep the lot closed has been cut WITH BOLT CUTTERS YALL, Karen was carrying a pair of bolt cutters and had thrown them into her car when she was back at it.
M and Karen argue back and forth, i intently listen and half pay attention as i finish my duties for work.
about 8-10 minutes pass and SEVEN police cars come flying back into the lot.
M greets the police and explains what is going on, but not after Karen attempts to scream at the police that I had stolen her car. P (Police) tell Karen to stand over in a direction he points, sending one officer to wait with her. turns out the Lieutenant was on scene who was in charge of the County's Police Tow Licenses.
after getting M's story LT comes to me and takes mine, while i'm informing him of what happens Karen overhears and starts yelling and attempting to approach me, the officer standing with her grabbed her by her arm. Karen yanked that arm out of the female officers hand and shoved her, surprisingly knocking the officer down. Karen is screaming incoherently as she charges toward me. the LT steps in front of me and with his taser hits karen with the most beautiful sound in the world. Karen goes limp and face plants in the dirt/light gravel of the lot and skids slightly. they immediately handcuff her.
turns out karen had walked onto the lot carrying the bolt cutters while i was in the office talking with staff about the two cars i needed to adjust. she had been roaming the lot until she saw me and i happened to be near her car.
Karen was charged with burglary, two counts of tampering with evidence, assault on a police officer, assault on me, trespassing and resisting arrest. i know Karen did jail time but i'm not sure how much. years later the tow company i now own impounded her car for being double parked, she remembered who i was and quietly paid.
i was there to do a appraisal on two vehicles that had been involved in a minor accident however both were left unable to drive from the scene due to either multiple flats, lights knocked out or windows busted. i've finished the first vehicle and i've started taking photos of the second vehicle. i have headphones in and i'm listening to the album "Cavalcade" by The Flatliners (seriously, check them out.) anyhoot, i see a woman i'd guess around 50 walk up to the police evidence lot and the gate swing open out of the corner of my eye. not paying much attention as the vehicles i was working with were on the same side of the lot but about 50 meters down from the evidence lot. as my back is turned to this woman i will hear on refer to as karen i take the last couple of photos i need, the last being a photograph of the vin of the vehicle which is located where the windshield meets the hood almost on the dash through the windscreen (hope this makes sense.
Karen out of literally nowhere grabs both cables to my headphones from behind and rips them out of my ears.
Karen: EXCUSE ME... why are there two cars in front of mine so i cannot get it out. (this lot would stack cars in 4 or 5 deep side by side and move them around with a small truck to release them.)
Me: please don't touch me and i don't think you should be in there AND i don't w-
Karen: you shouldn't be listening to music on the job anyway or slacking off taking pictures of other peoples belongings, you're probably back here stealing.
i attempt to point at the "Lizard Insurance" logo on my blue jacket but Karen continues on
Karen: are you going to do your job or do i need to call the police because you're refusing to give me my property.
Me: have you went into the office at ABC Towing?
Karen: no i saw you here and you need to move these cars so i can get mine and leave.
(as Karen opens the door and gets into the first car in the ones blocking her)Me: HEY! HEY! NO! you can't go in there that is police evidence
(i use my cell phone to call ABC Towing and inform them)Karen: if you won't move these cars then i will, where are the f*****g keys?
Me: In the office with the employees.
at this time the Manager comes running out with one of those weird smart phone/nextel style phones in his hand.
M (ABC Manager): hey lady get the hell out of there those cars are property of the state police!(M frantically uses his nextel to talk to someone.)
M sees the chain used to keep the lot closed has been cut WITH BOLT CUTTERS YALL, Karen was carrying a pair of bolt cutters and had thrown them into her car when she was back at it.
M and Karen argue back and forth, i intently listen and half pay attention as i finish my duties for work.
about 8-10 minutes pass and SEVEN police cars come flying back into the lot.
M greets the police and explains what is going on, but not after Karen attempts to scream at the police that I had stolen her car. P (Police) tell Karen to stand over in a direction he points, sending one officer to wait with her. turns out the Lieutenant was on scene who was in charge of the County's Police Tow Licenses.
after getting M's story LT comes to me and takes mine, while i'm informing him of what happens Karen overhears and starts yelling and attempting to approach me, the officer standing with her grabbed her by her arm. Karen yanked that arm out of the female officers hand and shoved her, surprisingly knocking the officer down. Karen is screaming incoherently as she charges toward me. the LT steps in front of me and with his taser hits karen with the most beautiful sound in the world. Karen goes limp and face plants in the dirt/light gravel of the lot and skids slightly. they immediately handcuff her.
turns out karen had walked onto the lot carrying the bolt cutters while i was in the office talking with staff about the two cars i needed to adjust. she had been roaming the lot until she saw me and i happened to be near her car.
Karen was charged with burglary, two counts of tampering with evidence, assault on a police officer, assault on me, trespassing and resisting arrest. i know Karen did jail time but i'm not sure how much. years later the tow company i now own impounded her car for being double parked, she remembered who i was and quietly paid.
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108points
#24
So me and my gf were hanging out in this store that had a bit of everything when she decides to look for some covers for her phone, I stayed in an corridor near there looking at the tech stuff when suddenly a lady comes to me.
(I was wearing jeans and a red polo I guess she exanged me for an employee even if they had a blue uniform)
Lady: Hey you, can you tell me where I can get [item]?
Me: (I look around for a second before looking back at her) I don't know, I don't w-
She interrupts me before I could say the magic word "I don't work here" and says
Lady: You brown people are all the same don't know how to treat customers, disgusting!
Me: the face I made as she leaves mfw
I'm about to go to my gf and tell her the story about this crazy lady, but before I could reach her this lady comes back and I kid you not she starts spraying those house deodorants in my face blinding me.
Lady: serves you right for being lazy and [racial slur]
Me: wtf, HELP!
My gf heared me yelling and came and before I could say anything I could hear the lady realize that I didn't infact worked there as my gf calls the police and I guess staff didn't let her leave because when I could see again after washing my eyes she was crying getting arrested, police asked If I'd like to press charges I said yes.
Even if I was an employee there thats no way to treat people, treat others as you wish to be treated.
The end.
Ps: I went for a checkup to my eyes after that and everything was alright.
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102points
#25
I was getting wipers for my car because mine aren't clearing the rain off my window anymore... It's a riveting story.
They have this touch screen thing there where you select the vehicle and it tells you the specific sizes you need for each wiper and brand. I was fiddling with the screen and going through the different sizes and makes of wipers and reading reviews on each one (I research everything before I buy it, drives my wife crazy) I hear someone behind me say excuse me. I think she wants to use the screen to figure out what wiper to buy, so I move to the section that has the wiper brand I'm interested in and start looking for the size I need.
My assumption was wrong.
She followed me to where I was now poking through the very badly stocked wipers.
From now on I'll be ME, and she'll be douchecanoe, which I'll shorten to DC.
DC: "Why did you walk away from me, that's very rude."
I didn't even know she was talking to me at this point. So I kept looking at wipers.
DC: " This is unbelievable! I'm talking to you."
I finally click in that I'm the one she's talking to. So I stupidly turn to face her while gripping a 28 inch wiper like a toddler holds a crayon. ME: "You talking to me?"
DC: "Yeah you. I need to know what size wiper to get for my Mercedes."
ME: "That's what the screen is for." I said as I gesture towards it with the wiper in my hand and go back to searching for the second elusive 28 incher.
DC: "You are terrible at your job, this isn't proper customer service." She said all huffy.
ME: " Umm, I don't work here. I'm gonna go back to this now."
DC: "I want to speak to your manager right now. This isn't how you treat customers. Ignoring me and refusing to help me, its disgraceful." At this point she kind of stomps off, but only a few aisles away, and the aisles in the automotive department aren't full height ones, they are like chest height so you can see right across the whole department. She just does a few laps of the aisles around where I am, she's looking all over the place for a manager but not going far, I think so she doesn't lose sight of me.
ME: "Still don't work here. So going to be hard to find that manager... and you're not listening to me... ok... " I say to her and trail off as she's obviously not caring at all. I go back to my wipers.
While she's on her walk I find my wiper and start to head towards the check outs. She chases me down and gets in front of me, trying to stop my escape before a manager gets there.
DC: "No! You're not allowed to leave until I speak to your manager about you!"
I've had enough of this buffoon. I pull out my phone and call my manager. I'm self employed, so I call the one person in my life who could reasonably be called my manager. The wife, henceforth referred to as BOSS.
ME: "I'll call her for you, you aren't going to be able to find her here."
I put it on speaker phone so the crazy lady can hear. As the phone rings she's giving me this superior smirk like I'm about to get my ass chewed out.
ME: "Hey, how's the trip going? (She's on a business trip)
BOSS: "Great, been having a some excellent meetings with the L3's (VP level people). What's up?"
ME: " Picking up some wipers."
BOSS: "And you're so jazzed about them that you needed to call me in the middle of the day?"
DC is getting really frustrated at this point, I'm obviously not getting to the me getting fired fast enough for her.
ME: "Nope, got a lady here at Canadian Tire who wants to talk to my manager. I kind of thought you're the closest thing to that. Want to talk to her?"
BOSS: "What the hell Labtc?! Am I on speaker phone?"
ME: "Oh yeah, the crazy lady can hear you, how else is she supposed to talk to my manager? Say hi to the crazy lady."
DC is finally starting to realize that I don't have a store logo on my shirt, and that maybe I'm not an employee.
BOSS: "You're such a jacka**. I'm sorry ma'am, my husband is an idiot. But he doesn't work there." I start to laugh at this point.
ME: "It's cool hun, she seems kind of slow or something. She probably doesn't realize I'm laughing at her." I say through my laughter while DC makes some kind of appalled noise from the back of her throat and stalks off.
I managed to get my wipers and leave the store after that without any further incident. My wife thinks I was mean to her. I say I was fighting stupidity with dumbassery.
Tl,dr: Crazy lady demanded to talk to my manager, so I called the one person in my life who can be called my manager. My wife.
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100points
#26
This happened a couple of months ago. Backstory, I'm a youth worker and part of my job involves taking clients to a bowling alley. I do this a few times a week, sometimes more than once a day, and usually at odd times (9am Monday bowling anyone?) so the place is basically my second office and we have a good relationship with the proprietors.
During the quiet hours, they only have two staff working; one in the office/front-desk/cafe (three separate locations btw), and one behind the scenes. It means that often there's a bit of standing around waiting when the front of house staff member is in a different area. Myself and the other weekday regulars (mostly senior bowlers) are used to it - it actually works well for me because part of what I'm doing there is teaching my clients social skills and coping strategies, so having to occupy yourself and be patient and polite is a good teaching moment.
My client and I have finished bowling, and we're sitting at the cafe eating and talking quietly when a man approaches the unattended cafe and immediately starts huffing and pacing restlessly. I side-eye him, but keep talking to the kid. A minute later he comes and looms over our table and says "EXCUSE ME" in an aggressive tone.
Now I've got my calm neutral face on but inside I've started gibbering because
I hate confrontation
This guy is actually massive
The kids I work with are the zero-to-kick your f*****g teeth in kind. And they often get very protective of their workers, in a sweet but f****d up kind of way. So if this guy tries to start something, there's a good chance there will be red and blue flashing lights in my immediate future.
"Yes?" I enquired politely, keeping one eye on the kid, one hand on my phone, and a vapid smile on my face.
"How 'bout you do your farken job?" He leaned down over the table. His breath was as unpleasant as the rest of him.
I was surprised, because sitting at a bowling alley eating curly fries with a 15 year old at 10am on a Tuesday WAS my job, and I was doing it well thank you very much! I was also alarmed because said 15 year old has become very still and very tense. Not good.
I moved back in my seat and resumed the vapid smiling. "Oh, sorry, I don't work here. Sometimes you have to wait a minute for someone to see you and come over, but otherwise maybe try the front desk?"
"Well you're dressed like you farken work 'ere!" He leaned over more and jabbed (JABBED! HE JABBED ME!) my chest.
The staff at this bowling alley wear black trousers and violently orange polo shirts, that match the violently orange walls. Awful. I'm glad I don't drink because going in there with a hangover would kill me. I was wearing baggy hippy pants, my purple Manic Pixie Dream Tarantula tee, and a sparkly sequinned backpack. And a lanyard with the word "staff" printed on it.
I held up the company ID card at the end of the lanyard, which identified me as an employee of the non-profit I work for. "No, sorry, I work for [company name]. We're customers here. Now if you don't mind, you're being very rude." [me, trying to role model, terrified]
I smiled my best 'everything is fine' smile to the kid eyeing the cutlery bucket.
"Don't talk to me like that you little b***h! I want 3 beers and some farken wings." He actually smacked the table with his hand. I looked over to the main area. Oh goody, he has friends.
I leaned back as far as I could (the wall was behind me, tables either side, and him blocking my exit). The kid stood up. Bad. Staff member spotted us and started rushing over. Good.
We had a time for a few rounds of "I want to speak to your manager" "I don't work here though, please let me out" before the actual manager of the bowling alley reached us. He pulled the guy away so I could get up, but dude wants to speak to my manager and won't let up.
Manager says "I am the manager here".
Dude: "You're her manager?"
Manager:"...no, she doesn't work here..."
Dude, to me: "I want to speak to your manager NOW"
At this point I figured, why not, handed him one of our company business cards, and said "Ask for [my manager's name]". He turned away to dial the number and I grabbed the kid and whispered "now watch him make a d**k of himself". Kid laughs and relaxes a bit (thank f**k), and the three of us stand in a row and watch this dips**t call my actual manager and complain that I wouldn't serve him beer and chicken wings. My manager actually took the complaint on an official form and made me sign it when I got back to the office.
Meanwhile, dude is banned, the bowling alley gave the kid a huge pile of free arcade tokens in apology, and I was able to get him to give me back the knife he stole before I dropped him home. Wins all round.
During the quiet hours, they only have two staff working; one in the office/front-desk/cafe (three separate locations btw), and one behind the scenes. It means that often there's a bit of standing around waiting when the front of house staff member is in a different area. Myself and the other weekday regulars (mostly senior bowlers) are used to it - it actually works well for me because part of what I'm doing there is teaching my clients social skills and coping strategies, so having to occupy yourself and be patient and polite is a good teaching moment.
My client and I have finished bowling, and we're sitting at the cafe eating and talking quietly when a man approaches the unattended cafe and immediately starts huffing and pacing restlessly. I side-eye him, but keep talking to the kid. A minute later he comes and looms over our table and says "EXCUSE ME" in an aggressive tone.
Now I've got my calm neutral face on but inside I've started gibbering because
I hate confrontation
This guy is actually massive
The kids I work with are the zero-to-kick your f*****g teeth in kind. And they often get very protective of their workers, in a sweet but f****d up kind of way. So if this guy tries to start something, there's a good chance there will be red and blue flashing lights in my immediate future.
"Yes?" I enquired politely, keeping one eye on the kid, one hand on my phone, and a vapid smile on my face.
"How 'bout you do your farken job?" He leaned down over the table. His breath was as unpleasant as the rest of him.
I was surprised, because sitting at a bowling alley eating curly fries with a 15 year old at 10am on a Tuesday WAS my job, and I was doing it well thank you very much! I was also alarmed because said 15 year old has become very still and very tense. Not good.
I moved back in my seat and resumed the vapid smiling. "Oh, sorry, I don't work here. Sometimes you have to wait a minute for someone to see you and come over, but otherwise maybe try the front desk?"
"Well you're dressed like you farken work 'ere!" He leaned over more and jabbed (JABBED! HE JABBED ME!) my chest.
The staff at this bowling alley wear black trousers and violently orange polo shirts, that match the violently orange walls. Awful. I'm glad I don't drink because going in there with a hangover would kill me. I was wearing baggy hippy pants, my purple Manic Pixie Dream Tarantula tee, and a sparkly sequinned backpack. And a lanyard with the word "staff" printed on it.
I held up the company ID card at the end of the lanyard, which identified me as an employee of the non-profit I work for. "No, sorry, I work for [company name]. We're customers here. Now if you don't mind, you're being very rude." [me, trying to role model, terrified]
I smiled my best 'everything is fine' smile to the kid eyeing the cutlery bucket.
"Don't talk to me like that you little b***h! I want 3 beers and some farken wings." He actually smacked the table with his hand. I looked over to the main area. Oh goody, he has friends.
I leaned back as far as I could (the wall was behind me, tables either side, and him blocking my exit). The kid stood up. Bad. Staff member spotted us and started rushing over. Good.
We had a time for a few rounds of "I want to speak to your manager" "I don't work here though, please let me out" before the actual manager of the bowling alley reached us. He pulled the guy away so I could get up, but dude wants to speak to my manager and won't let up.
Manager says "I am the manager here".
Dude: "You're her manager?"
Manager:"...no, she doesn't work here..."
Dude, to me: "I want to speak to your manager NOW"
At this point I figured, why not, handed him one of our company business cards, and said "Ask for [my manager's name]". He turned away to dial the number and I grabbed the kid and whispered "now watch him make a d**k of himself". Kid laughs and relaxes a bit (thank f**k), and the three of us stand in a row and watch this dips**t call my actual manager and complain that I wouldn't serve him beer and chicken wings. My manager actually took the complaint on an official form and made me sign it when I got back to the office.
Meanwhile, dude is banned, the bowling alley gave the kid a huge pile of free arcade tokens in apology, and I was able to get him to give me back the knife he stole before I dropped him home. Wins all round.
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93points
#27
My husband is a peaceful giant. He is 6 ft 5 and can look quite imposing even though he really is a teddy bear. Never stressed or aggressive, never overreacting our raising his voice, just a peaceful giant.
So here we are, at the grocery shop, with our 6 mo baby shopping for food and whatnot. It is winter in Canada (so, you know, cold) and we are both wearing our coats. The kid is fussy and nothing really calms him except when we carry him in our arms. It is my turn and my husband is going back and forth gathering what we need and bringing the items to our cart when the banshee-from-hell (BFH from now on) got in his face (figure of speech, she was like 5 ft 2) and started yelling at him.
BFH: ARE YOU DONE? You've been helping her FOREVER and I NEED HELP! NOW!
Husband: (with his smooth everything-is-good kind of tone) I'm so sorry (we're Canadians), but I'm afraid I do not work here...
BFH: BULLS***! I just saw you help HER shopping. NOW, you help ME! AND YOU DO NOT TALK BACK TO ME!
Husband: But...
BFH: STOP! Don't talk to me unless it is to thank me. Are we clear?
My husband sees me boiling and about to interfere but makes a sign that's says he is going to deal with it. He then calmly look at her with a smile.
BFH: (smuggling) GOOD! Now, help me grad the last (item I don't remember, probably some king of condiment) on this high shelve. WHY IN HELL you people always put the stuff I need so high is BEYOND me. Now, chop-chop!
My husband grabs the item, but instead of giving it to her, he keeps it just a tiny bit out of her reach. He looks at it and then at me.
Husband: (grining) Honey, do we need (condiment)?
Me: (catching on) Well, as a matter of fact, yes! We do!
Lady: WHAT?! HOW DARE YOU GIVE HER MY STUFF! IT'S MY STUFF! GIVE IT TO ME!!!
Super slowly, my husband gets closer to the lady. He is so imposing that she calms down immediately. With the biggest of smile and the most polite voice ever, he says to her:
Husband: Again, I do not work here... but thank you for showing me (condiment). We were about to forget it.
And with that, he puts the item in our cart, grabs the baby and together, we left. In the background, the lady howling some profanities. All three of us smiling. I love my husband.
91points
#28
This happened years ago. I’m (M) at Walmart and a lady asks for help with a heavy item. I talked to her for a while then continued to do my shopping. I went through checkout and the lady was talking to the manager (F) by the registers. She pointed at me and the manager smiled. I walked up to them as the manager explained that he (OP) works at Wendy’s. The lady was slightly embarrassed but we walked out together. I loaded the stuff into the back seat and talked to her husband that was waiting for her. She kept saying “you know” just like my great grandmother.
The next day my manager asked it I was the one that helped the lady at Walmart. There are a few of us with the same name. So I do a little nice thing and this lady goes out of her way to tell my manager about it and I remember it for the rest of my life.
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88points
#29
So in the '90s I rented a large workshop with two friends. I was a woodworker and the other two were metal workers so obviously none of us resembled the previous business, which had installed skylights, in any way.
Cue the customer of the previous business. C. I have condensed this as the verbatim conversation went on for a *very* long time.
Arrives at my door. A real "Karen".
C: "I need repairs done to the skylights you installed"
Me: "Sorry, that business has moved and I don't know where they are now"
C: " No, I need you to send someone over NOW. The Skylights are leaking"
Me: " As I said, that business has gone. We are a different company."
C: "No, RIGHT NOW!"
Repeat the above a half dozen times...
About now I am realizing I am dealing with either genuine looney or else someone too entitled to listen to plain common sense. I try another tact, caveman speech, who knows it might get through.
Me: "Skylight business gone. New business come. You talking to new business now. Unnerstand?" (Ook)
C: ".........uhhh?"
Me: "Nooooo skylight here!!! Try look in f*****g phone book! You bugger off now!"
C leaves in a big huff.
It's all about communication folks.
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79points
#30
At the after party, I also didn't realize the waiters were dressed exactly like me. White shirt, black tie, shined shoes.
I'm walking around and a nice older lady (who would turn out to be the mother of the bride) approached me as I passed her table. She needed an extra seat for her table.
Her: "Excuse me...can we move this chair over here?"
Me: "Uh...yeah. Go ahead."
Her: "Do you think that will inconvenience the other table?"
Me: "I mean, that sounds like that's the other table's problem." (yes, I really said this)
Her: "...uh...alright. Are there extra chairs in the back?"
Me: "...probably? I mean, they know there is a wedding going on so I think it'll be okay."
Her: "...o-okay.Well, thank you."
Me internally: (that was weird)
Later, I had to go to that same table to drop off my portion of the wedding purse. And that nice lady was there with her sister.
Me: "Hello again."
Her: "Oh hi. Great timing. Do you know when we'll be eating?"
Me: "No, but I can't wait. Wedding food is the best, isn't it?"
Her: somewhat annoyed"Well, with what we're paying for this, I'd imagine it would be."
Me: "And thank you very much for paying for it. Really, I'm so happy to be here."
Her: "...."
Me: "...um, so is this where we leave the wedding gifts?"
Her: "Oh my god, I'm so sorry! Haha. You don't work here!"
Me: "I....What?"
2 seconds later, a waiter dressed like me walks by I understand. We all had a good laugh about it.
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66points